1: “The heart can continue beating even when disconnected from the body.”
Our stepmother Angel’s scarlet fingernail hovers above the page as she reads to us. My sister and I, sleep-eyed and curious, watch her intently. Then, Angel snaps the book shut, gives a dramatic yawn, and drifts off to bed.
2: “Tomatoes contain lycopene, which is good for the heart.”
At the pizzeria, Dad orders a Neapolitan, makes a sad face with the tomato crescents, watches us eat. Later, we stop by the butchers for that nice jam. “Unbreak My Heart” comes on the radio and Betsy, the checkout lady with cinnamon curls, turns up the volume and winks at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen Dad smile since he and Angel separated.
3: “A man’s heart is bigger than a woman’s.”
I read this fact aloud to Angel as she cleans the bathroom.
“That’s clearly a lie,” she declares, rolling her eyes, says “you know the spider that lives behind our toilet? Well, your father’s heart is smaller than that spider’s tiniest eyelash.” She pauses, looking thoughtful. “You know Ash, when your Da left, he took my heart with him.”
“Spiders don’t have eyelashes,” I say, pulling my mouth to one side. She sighs, shaking her head.
4: “It’s possible to die of a broken heart.”
On the weekend, we weave daisy chains in the park and I whisper Angel’s secret to the dandelion puffs. Later at the butcher’s, Betsy hands Dad a plastic bag, leaning in close, her curls brushing his shoulder. Dad’s laugh is a windchime. I wonder if it’s the sound of his heart unbreaking. I try to imagine what Betsy would look like with a shaved head. Miles better, I decide.
5: “Most heart attacks happen on Mondays.”
On Tuesday evening, Dad visits. We race upstairs, stick our ears tight to the doorjamb. A scream—we tumble down the steps, fear dripping from our fingertips.
“Your father’s a comedian,” Angel says, smiling, tears like tiny crystal balls rolling down her cheeks. Dad winks, holding a beef heart wrapped in butcher paper. “Brought her heart back,” he jokes, giving Angel a playful nudge.
Later, I pull the book from under the pillow and in giant capital letters, add my most favorite fact of all: HEARTS ARE STRONGER TOGETHER. Me and my sister stick our fingers down our throats and make gagging noises before I slap a steaming cheese sticker next to the quote, sink back onto the bed, and grin like a fool.
Julia McNamara is a working-class writer and poet from the wilds of rural Cork in Southern Ireland. She received her MA in Creative Writing from the University of Limerick and is exceptionally skilled in the ancient Japanese art of Tsundoku.