Fragile Little Things ✓

21 lost

JEM WAS SERIOUS. It’s December, and three months since I’ve seen him. He doesn’t have any social media, and I’m slowly starting to forget how he looked. He’s becoming just a blur in my memories. It scares me, but I don’t know why. Or maybe I do, and I’m just too stubborn to admit it.

He doesn’t come to the shop anymore—I know because I don’t hide in the storeroom anymore. I could’ve sworn I got a call from him in my birthday, but it’s a shot in the dark. Whoever was on the other end didn’t say a word, then eventually cut the call.

Initially, it hurt. But now, everything feels like nothing. Because I don’t even have the right to feel what I’m feeling. Because he wasn’t mine to lose. I use life to distract myself. It helps, sometimes. But mostly it just feels like I’m lost at sea with nothing to anchor me. Like I’m drowning.

Right now, I’m brushing my teeth, getting ready for campus. I do a spit take and then lift my head to face myself in the mirror, but I can’t recognise the person staring back at me. I look pale, and my eyes are dull, with dark shadows under them.

These days, I can’t seem to do anything right. Sleeping, eating, studying. I’d talk to mom about it, but every time I call I feel like I’m wasting her time. The last time she called was for my birthday, which was more than two months ago. Kade was right. I asked her if she could come, but she was too busy.

As for Kade . . . I was going to break up with him so I could focus on myself—so I could try and fix the mess my life was becoming . . . but he organised a study date and came over every day for a week to make sure I ate, and I couldn’t do it. I just . . . couldn’t.

His kindness only lasted for a week, and now we’re back to where we were at the beginning. I should’ve guessed. Now every time I try to end it, it’s like he senses it, and makes me feel too guilty to do anything. I don’t know why I can’t do it. Maybe I’m just weak. And pathetic. Maybe the scraps of affection Kade throws my way is the only thing I’ll ever get, and maybe I should just get used to it.

I pull my gaze away from my reflection, but it just catches on my hand and the ring on my index finger. Jem’s ring. It’s worrying to admit, but I’ve been taking better care of this ring than I’ve been taking care of myself.

It’s magnetic. I figured it out when I was opening the fridge and felt a slight, but noticeable magnetic pull. I Googled it and found out that it’s hematite — and that to keep the magnetism, you have to clean and polish the metal. So I do that. As often as I can.

Maybe it’s stupid, but sometimes, when I don’t feel like eating, the soft magnetic pull of the ring beckons me to the fridge. And I end up eating something. And sometimes, when I’m lost in my own mind, the glint of the ring on my finger brings me back to reality. So yeah, maybe I am lost at sea. But maybe I was wrong about not having an anchor.

Mindlessly, I slip the ring up to the tip of my finger, around my nail, and my throat tightens, my eyes tearing up. Then, it slips off my finger completely. There’s a resounding clink as it swirls around the basin, once, twice, then down the drain.

All while I stand there, frozen in horror.

“No,” I whisper, clicking into motion as I grip the edge of the basin, peering down the drain. “No no no.”

My heart sinks as I look down the drain, my mind screaming. I can’t see it. Oh God. I can’t see it. I held on to that stupid ring for three months and now it’s …gone.

Something inside me breaks—something fundamental— and I lift my palm to my forehead trying to calm down, but my vision is already blurring and it’s painful to hold back the tears, so I let them stream down my cheeks. The ache in my chest makes it too hard to stand, so I sink down to the floor as a sob breaks through.