Fragile Little Things ✓

37 wish

Jem

IT’S BEEN THREE AND A HALF months since I’ve seen Indigo.

I can’t forget the look on her face when she showed up to the funeral. It was like she was begging for me to open up. Let her in. I didn’t say a word. Rooting myself to the spot, it took everything not to run after her. Not to pick her up in my arms and never let go.

But I couldn’t. Because I know that she wants to soak up all my sadness, and I’ll never let it happen.

So I let her leave.

And that was it. Indie hardened. She hugged Kendall, waved at Gianna and kissed Poppy’s cheek. And left. I haven’t heard from her since.

I got what I wanted.

But I didn’t feel the satisfaction of saving her from the wreck I was. Instead, I feel like fucking shit.

Absolute fucking rock bottom.

I don’t know how I’ve survived the time.

Moving day to day, with no clear purpose, with a giant gaping hole in my heart.

Without mom, it’s like I lost a giant chunk of my purpose. I was working full time at the garage to keep up with the hospital payments. Visiting her whenever I could. I stayed in Houston for a month to help Dad and Jo out with the girls.

Being around them actually helped. I helped pick up and drop the girls off at school.

Jo wanted to postpone the wedding, but Dad wouldn’t let her. It was around the time that I realised that they were moving on much faster than I was that I decided to head back to New York.

The girls got attached and didn’t want me to leave, but I promised I’d visit soon.

Once I figured out all my shit on my own.

With so much time on my hands, I was able to finish working on the prototype. I designed a new hybrid, fuel efficient engine, and submitted the design of the prototype to a company, with Mason’s help.

I enrol back into college. I’ll pick up where I left off on campus after summer break.

There are no more hospital bills to pay for. No more medication. So there’s enough cash to pay the fees.

I’m hardly at home anymore. Every time I’m there, those purple fucking flowers mock me. Memories of Indie plague me — in my kitchen, in my room, on my couch. So I start picking up more shifts at the garage. Filling in the empty cracks in my life that Indie once took up.

The boys say nothing to me.

I’m sure they suspect that we’re no longer together because I don’t sit on my phone during lunch breaks anymore, messaging Indie during her study breaks. They sit with me late till midnight while I work on cars and keep me company.

I realise that no matter how hard I try, she infiltrates my mind. Finding the cracks, she spills in and she’s all I think about. But I have to stop, because every time I see her, my heart aches in my chest. And I’m the one who did this to us, so I have to deal with it.

The night before I turn twenty-one, the boys and Ever come to the apartment. They rush in carrying packets and balloons that hit the roof with every move. Ever’s behind them, carrying a birthday cake.

“Happy birthday, Jem!” she exclaims, giving me a side hug while balancing a cake in her other arm.

But a second later, Mason is at her side, picking up the cake and giving her a smile which she returns.