Page 35 of Fragments of the Lost
You don’t love me.
I don’t love you.
It’s over.
But instead I shook my head, the words too foreign. A year together. Our existences too wrapped up in each other.
We were standing on the grassy hill after practice. He was in jeans. He’d been waiting for me. He’d been watching. I was sweaty and thirsty and the muscles in my legs burned, and I felt outside myself, like I always did after a long run—that I was overdosed on air. My hands started shaking.
Caleb looked over his shoulder once. Like even this part didn’t require his undivided attention. He was split in two places, even then, already gone—already ten minutes from then, a day, a week. This just an item on one of his to-do lists that needed to be crossed off.
“Just go,” I said.
Caleb narrowed his eyes, the muscles in his face hardening. “That’s it? That’s everything? That’sall you have to say?”
But didn’t he get it? I didn’t want to give any more of myself away. I’d given everything, and now it was time to take it back. To hold on to the mystery, and leave him wanting instead.
“Yeah, Caleb. That’s it.”
He looked at me like he was surprised to suddenly realize he didn’t know this person standing before him at all.
“Wow. Well, what can I say, I’m so glad we did this, Jessa.”
I’m so glad we did this.His words rang in my ears.This.This conversation? This breakup? The entire last year?
I turned to go, walking down the hill to the water cooler, where everyone was still gathered, stretching after practice. Watching. “Hope you’re happy,” he called after me.
I didn’t turn to look, but I knew when he left because everyone shifted their focus from him to me.
I felt their eyes on me, and I knew I needed to say something, that the rumors would begin whether I said it or not. “Turns out I could use a ride home,” I said.
Hailey took a step closer, and Max was still staring at the empty spot where Caleb had just been.
“What a jerk,” Hailey said, because that was what I would say to her if our places were switched. She placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezed, then said, “Oh, crap, guess I’m going to need a ride home, too.” Then she let out the slightest giggle.
And then I was laughing too, both of us, a fit of inappropriate laughter, to mask the moment, to mask the tears.
I knew Max would wait for us, after we got changed. I knew in a way that didn’t make me have to ask him, or him have to say it, even though his allegiance was to Caleb in that moment. But I knew, because of how he once pushed back through the crowd for me, how he saidYou just left her,to him after.
We dropped Hailey off first, on the way, and we were almost to my place when he said, “Want to talk about it?”
But I just stared out the window, resting my head against it. I felt the reality filter in, all the changes. I wouldn’t take out my phone to text Caleb as soon as I was alone in my room. He wouldn’t pick me up tomorrow. I’d have to ask my parents if I could use Julian’s car for school. They’d have to ask why. I’d have to say it. All this talk, and now I just wanted silence.
“No,” I said. He pulled up at my house, and I grabbed my bag from the backseat. “Max?” I said. “Thank you for the ride home.”
He nodded once, his face stoic.
I went to close the door, and he called my name. I turned back. “We’re friends, too. Whether you’re with him or not. We were friends before.” I’d known him forever, it was true, but the last year with Caleb had really cemented our friendship.
I nodded and looked quickly away, feeling the knot in my throat, the burn in my eyes.
Max’s words were both true and not. We could be friends at practice. He could give me a ride home if I needed one. But we couldn’t just pick up the phone, or meet up at the beach, or fight over riding shotgun.
All of this changes, too.
The car is mine alone again, now that Julian’s gone. I park in the far lot, with the rest of the juniors who have their licenses. My eyes scan the lot for Caleb’s preferred spot from last year—under the tree, facing the athletic fields. Not the most convenient spot for morning class, but the best location for leaving at the end of the day. Caleb was like that, always planning for the parts that came later.
I grab whatever spot I come across first, ready for another day of the places Caleb does not exist. The combination lock has been permanently removed from his empty locker. I won’t hear his voice in the hall, his laughter around the corner, or see the top of his head in a crowd, his eyes locking with mine over the people between us. All empty spaces, a gap in the world as I know it.
