“I need to take a shower.” I felt numb as I walked away. My small breakthrough had opened up a chasm of forgotten pain and heartache that I didn’t want to revisit. Before I even hit the bathroom, I felt the tears fall. They splashed down my cheeks in warm trails that welcomed more.
I turned on the hot water, hoping my mother wouldn’t hear my sobs, hoping the tears would take away all the pain. I stepped into the overly-hot water, burning my skin before I could turn it down and then curled up on the floor of the tub, the water from the shower pouring over me. Only then did I open my hand. The tiny purple bead still sat in my palm, glistening as the water ran over it. It shimmered and sparkled as the color danced and changed. I clenched my hand over it, not wanting to see it again. No matter how much I wanted to throw it down the drain to be lost forever, I knew I couldn’t. This stupid thing would always serve as a reminder of what I had lost, and what my mother had so foolishly let slip away.
---
I woke around midday on Saturday to the rhythmic knocking that Ryland had used as his signature since he was fourteen. I sighed in frustration. He had been here a few times before, and his visits always made me uncomfortable. Ryland grew up in a two hundred thousand square foot mansion; I grew up in an apartment that was smaller than his bedroom.
I listened to the incessant knocking for a minute more before grumbling and rolling out of bed. My body didn’t hurt as much now, but it still felt stiff and heavy. I straightened out, cursing beads, Mexican food, and useless fathers for my endless illness.
I had fallen asleep right after my shower last night, meaning my hair had dried as I slept, resulting in an endless tangle of black hair. I flattened it around my right ear as much as I could, making sure the mark was covered, then threw a hoodie on over my cami and shuffled to the door with Scooby-Doo pajamas dragging on the floor around my ankles. I yanked the door open and walked away, leaving it ajar so he could let himself in.
“Good morning!” Ryland’s voice was loud and happy, as always. He bounded in, slammed the door and threw his arms around my waist, lifting me up in an attempt to tackle me to the ground.
“Put me down!” I pounded on his hands, trying not to smile. It was no use; his grip only tightened around my mid-section. “I’m going to hurl!”
He dropped me and came around in front of me, inspecting the probability. He smiled at me impishly, sending my stomach into a pattern reminiscent of a roller coaster.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.” His blue eyes sparkled, his smile widening to a grin. He was enjoying this game too much.
“I’m sick, remember.”
“Not according to your mother, you little faker.” He smiled wider and tweaked my nose. My stomach did another flip at his touch.
“Traitor,” I mumbled as I shuffled to the kitchen. Ryland bounded behind me, full of more energy than usual.
“Well, I had to get my information somewhere, seeing as someone wouldn’t return my calls.” He raised a brow at me as he settled into one of the two kitchen chairs, crossing his legs regally and looking out of place sitting at the tiny table at the end of our galley kitchen.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Sick or not, I did sleep all day yesterday.” I pulled down a box of Fruit Loops and a bowl, carrying them and the milk over to the table where he sat. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.
“People only sleep like that when they’re sick. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. His eyes widened in disbelief.
“Do you want some?” I shook the box of cereal at him, trying to break his gaze.
He shook his head and continued to look at me. “You know, when I was ten, I snuck into the kitchen and had some Fruit Loops from the box your mom used to keep in there for you...”
“And?”
“They were disgusting!” He made a face like he still remembered the sugar-sweet taste and it revolted him. I couldn’t help but laugh; the idea of Fruit Loops being disgusting was funny to me. Of course, Ryland had been raised on a whole higher class of food, so it made sense.
I looked up to find him studying me.
“I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I stuck a spoonful of cereal in my mouth, making it clear I didn’t want to elaborate.
Ryland leaned forward and exhaled. “That’s obviously a lie, Jos.”
I ignored him, and continued to scarf down my cereal at an inhuman rate.
“I was worried,” Ryland continued, his voice low, “that after I gave you the necklace, you thought I was looking at you differently, that you thought I wanted to be more than friends… that I scared you…” His voice trailed off and I dropped my spoon into the bowl. We stared at each other.