“It’s not serious,” he tells Mr.R in a quiet voice. “I swear.”
I almost double over from the punch in my gut.
Jason scratches his head, clearly hiding his guilt, as he goes back to Other Zadie.
“Is everything okay?” Other Zadie says, intuiting Mr.R’s disapproval.
“Oh yeah,” Jason lies. “He’s just worried about his boat.”
The real me watches dumbly as Jason threads his hand through Other Zadie’s again. “What do you feel like for dinner?”
“Didn’t you hear? It’s always a good night for Tanner’s,” she says, reciting the diner’s catchphrase.
Jason laughs and pulls her into him, squeezing their bodies together for what feels like an infinite amount of time. I know that, in this moment, Other Zadie isn’t sure what to think, but she’s telling herself nothing significant just happened.
“It’s really not a big deal,” I tell Marcus now, because I’m trying to convince myself the same thing. I both hate that he’s standing here watching this with me and can’t think of anything sadder than if I had witnessed that alone. “Sometimes we say what we have to.”
Marcus nods. “I get it, but it can’t feel good watching…that.”
“It’s truly okay. Can we not talk for a minute?” I say, because my eyes are stinging. Thankfully, Marcus respects my wish. We only stand in silence for twenty, maybe thirty seconds, before a strong magnetic force grabs hold of our bodies. Before my arms turn blurry, then vanish. I’m relieved to feel the force whirling around me and Marcus, a noisy storm we’re starting to know well. Relieved to be snatched out of the dream, pulled out of the memory and into real life.
I feel whiplashed when I wake up in my room, as tired as if I’d run a marathon and as sad as if I’d lost something I loved.
***
I’m in my bed, alone.
It’s early, early morning. Sunday.
In the dark, Jason’s words echo.It’s not serious.
Maybe Jason really meant what he told his dad. Maybethatis why Jason broke up with me—I was just passing the time.
The thought won’t let me sleep. I sit up, turn on my bedside lamp, and pick up the ring from where I usually set it at night. Once it’s on, I twist it around on my finger.
I should hop out of bed, go for my run, go and visit Jason. But I don’t have it in me.
I’m wearing the ring still when I log on to social media to see the response to my last picture. And there is a big response. Mo and Amber hype me up in the comments as usual, but this post has the most likes I’ve ever gotten. Dozens and dozens of comments, eachone praising the love between me and Jason. A strange thing happens: the words of people who barely know me make me feel safe and warm. Less alone. Less uncertain.
Of course Jason didn’t mean what he said. Itwasserious. I was there. All these people have been there.
What I know is that this ring is on my finger for a reason. Jason and I, together, make something beautiful. Something impeccable. I’m about to close out of Instagram when I see that I have a new message. It’s from an account that has no followers and only follows me.
The message contains one line.
That’s my ring, Zadie.
Fifteen
Someone knows.
Who is this?I write back immediately.
I get no response.
Please just tell me who this is.
Nothing.
