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.

Ace slaps a birthday hat on my head, cackling as he snaps a picture while I deadpan at him.

“Valentine is back in the city, fuckers!” Ace yells to the rest, pointing to my head.

“Christ,” I groan, attempting to yank the hat off.

But Ace is quick, swatting my hands away. “It’s not fuckinʼ optional, man.”

Knowing that he’ll only annoy me more if I take it off, I leave it on. Ever steps forward and pushes a silver candle into the cake and lights it up, before retreating into Mason’s arms.

Something bad churns in my stomach at the sight. It reminds me too much of Indie.

While standing amongst them, I can’t help but think about the girl I wish was here the most. I thought that we’d still be together around the time it came to celebrate my birthday. And she’d be the one singing to me. But life doesn’t work out the way you want. I learnt that the hard way.

“Make a wish, J.”

For the last few years, my wish remained the same. I wanted my mom to get better. But this year, I wish for something different. I blow out the candles.

I want her to be happy.

As soon as I open my eyes, the boys pat my back and rush into the kitchen to get plates and cutlery to dig into the food that Logan’s mom made for us. Eli reaches for my phone to play music on the speaker.

“This is insane,” Eli says, looking up from my phone, his mouth agape.

I reach for my phone to stop him from doing anything else, but he starts running his mouth already. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jem. You played Indigo Girl by Watershed like a hundred times this week.”

Everyone in the kitchen stops what they’re doing and looks at me. I snatch my phone back from Eli and pretend like he said nothing. Picking up a plate, I dish out some food onto my plate, ignoring their stares.

Eventually, Mason speaks. “If you love her so much. Why did you break up with her?”

“I didn’t want to use her.”

“Use her for what?” Logan asks.

Waving the spoon around me, I say, “Dealing with all of this.”

Mason steps forward towards me, “That’s not using. Fuck.” He pushes a hand through his hair, “If the same thing happened to her, would you have allowed her to break up with you?”

My chest sinks. “No.”

There’s silence after that and they continue to eat. But I think about that for the rest of the day. My phone buzzes with a call from Kendall, distracting me. I answer, walking to the bathroom where it’s quieter.

“Hey,” she says, “Called to say happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Ken,” I say.

She’s quiet for a while, and I know she has something to say to me.

“What is it?” I press.

In the back, I can hear Poppy and Gianna running around her to speak to me. “Guys, stop that,” her voice is distant as if she put the phone above her head and out of reach from the other two.

The sound of a door closes and no doubt she’s locked herself in a room to talk in peace. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

At this point I know exactly what she’s talking about, so I put her out of her misery. “I don’t know.”

“It’s been more than a week since they sent it to you, Jem. That’s more than enough time to think about it. I’ve been helping Jo out with organising it and it’s not easy. They both want you to be there.”

I run a hand through my hair, it’s been growing for a while now. It’s not particularly long, but compared to my usual buzzcut, it’s something. I’ve been getting used to the small strays that tickle the back of my neck. I figured I needed a change.

Kendall presses on. “They really want you to come, Jem.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say, “I promise.”

She blows out a breath. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

When the tone beeps, I realise she ended the call. I stare at the invitation on my phone.

That’s the funny thing about grief. When it hits you, you think it’ll last forever. And in a way, it kind of does. The only thing that changes is you learn to live with it. The grief doesn’t get any smaller. You just grow around it.

We’re all moving on. I’m not angry anymore. My father was horrible after Ma died. Jo helped him through it all. She helped him — the way Indigo was willing to help me. I should have never let my girl go.

She’s the fucking love of my life.

There isn’t, nor has there ever been, or will be, anyone who’s more perfect for me than her.

And I’ve hurt her. For months, I’ve kept her away from me. In a hopeless attempt to protect her, I tried to bury us when we barely even started.

I need to find a way to fix things.

For now, I watch as my friends pile up the alcohol on the table. It’s my twenty-first, and I’m about to get fucked up.