Jigsaw

The night is warm, the skies clear and my windows are open to allow the gentle summer breeze to stir the air in my apartment. It's been a whole three months since Rich left but Saturday nights are still so difficult to get through. At least, they would be if Zyggy hadn't stepped in and requested I take him through my list of top ten favorite films – his only stipulation, I had to cover multiple genres.

Tonight we're attempting to watch The Lost Boys having skipped over Marley and Me, knowing my emotional state definitely wasn't up for that beating just yet. However, my request to bypass the heartbreaking film seemed to have made Zyggy thoughtful.

We're about a quarter of the way into the film when I glance across at him and I'm struck at how still he is, his eyes focussed on a point only he can see. He's deep in thought, chips and movie forgotten as he mulls over something in his mind.

I think I know where his thoughts have taken him; the stilted conversation we'd had carefully navigating my raw feelings on the subject of love and loss had obviously led him to turn introspective as he contemplates his own memories. Love and loss, two things it would seem the pair of us have both experienced thoroughly. Maybe in different guises but still a shared occurrence nonetheless.

Settling back into the cushions, I ignore the movie too, letting it play to a distracted audience as I attempt to order my thoughts. He'd asked me about my past partners — how we'd met and what had happened to those relationships. Not because he was being intrusive, thoughtless or nosy, but because Zyggy has a compulsion to try and understand the world around him and the people in it.

Whilst he enjoys the simpler things in life, Zyggy is no simpleton. He has a complex grasp of the universe, he just knows how to bring childlike joy into almost everything and he's unabashed, and unapologetic about it. I wish more of us were like him, if we were, life wouldn't be quite so hard.

I wish I could be more like Zyggy, I try, I really do but there's always a cruel voice in the back of my head tainting my joy, bringing me down, hurting my feelings.

"What if...?" Zyggy starts, face still scrunched in contemplation. Tilting my head, I move my body, angling it towards my friend to give him my full attention. "What if it's not meant to stay whole. What if it was not designed to work best that way."

"What?" I ask, "What if what isn't meant to stay whole?"

Those starlit eyes widen. "Your heart," he says with a voice full of wonder.

A pensive sigh rocks my frame and I shake my head sadly. "I dunno Zyggy, it feels pretty damn miserable to have it shattered. Life isn't much fun with a broken heart."

His bright gaze turns to mine and his smiling expression instantly lifts my mood. It's impossible to stay sad when he's staring at me with such unbridled hopefulness and joy.

"I understand the pain of the breaking part... But what about what comes after?"

Without meaning to, I slip back in my memories to the many heartaches I've suffered. In my mind's eye I can see the upset, the fall out, the mess each break up caused, feel the anger, the hopelessness and the worthlessness I'd experienced. And then I see Rich; see him emptying his things from our apartment. See him walking out of my life, and a phantom knife twists in my chest.

"There's just more pain, for a long time after while you try and pick up the pieces."

His hand reaches across and covers mine but there's no sympathy in his expression, instead he looks... Pleased with himself.

"Except, what if you don't," he nods earnestly, "what if you don't put all the pieces back together?" He's excited to explain his theory and I don't have it in me to shoot him down, so I sit quietly and ponder his idea.