Jem’s stance changes, shoulders stiffening. “What?”
“Marie. I saw the messages.”
“Shit!” He walks out of the room to the kitchen, slamming the door. My rapid-fire heart thumps in my ears as I scramble to catch up. I knew things weren’t right, but why this?
Jem returns, his face dark. “You read my messages?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did. I shouldn’t have.”
“Correct. If I let you into my life, that’s on my terms and they don’t include spying on me.”
“Wow, so you did me a favour by allowing me some of your precious time?”
Jem’s tone softens, but the cold remains. “I don’t want to fight with you.” What happened today that tripped the switch and re-erected his force field?
“No, you wouldn’t, because you have to feel something to fight. How long have you lied to me about how you feel?”
“Ifeelpissed off that you invaded my privacy, Ruby.”
“I feel like an idiot.” I grab my coat and phone. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“It’s late. You can’t go,” says Jem in alarm.
“What the fuck, Jem?”
“Wait until tomorrow. I don’t want to worry about you.”
“You bloody hypocrite! You don’t have to worry. If this is over, leave me the hell alone!”
As I stand, trembling, Jem closes his eyes, blocking me out.
“I don’t understand, Jem,” I say hoarsely.
“No, neither do I.”
Jem shook up our world again and scattered the pieces. Do I grab at them and try to push everything back together? “Talk to me.”
Jem turns away. “I’m sorry.”
I wait. I don’t know what for, but he doesn’t speak again. I could touch Jem, try to get through to the truth, but I’m scared. No explanation from Jem is better than one filled with words I can use against myself. Ones I’d use to rip apart my new self-belief. I know Jem lashes out when we fight, can say hurtful things, and I’ll use those words as weapons against myself if this happens. With calm from years of practice, from hiding the distress and keeping control, I walk away to pack a bag.
I play over and over in my mind what I might’ve done wrong. I backed off on being needy, or I thought I did. He has to be screwing someone else, otherwise, why would he drop what we have this easily?
Jem isn’t around when I leave the bedroom with my bag, and I stand in the lounge of the place I began to call home, overwhelmed by the grief twisting around my insides, strangling the life from me. How can Jem do this?
I climb into the car as anger joins the hurt, at being treated by him in such a dismissive way. Jem knows my self-worth is practically non-existent in relationships. This is nothing to do with me. This is Jem, the fucked up guy who can’t admit he feels.
Although he shattered my fragile heart into a multitude of pieces I won’t find again in a hurry, perhaps I’m thankful that he gave me the strength to leave Dan and push Ruby Riot’s need for success. I can be who I want and achieve the dreams I never thought possible. In the future, I can take what I’ve learned from this.
One day I’ll have a relationship with a normal man.
* * *
Jem
I’m doingthe right thing.
Exhausted, I go to bed, wrap myself up in the sheets, and fight away memories of seeing Mum today. I wake in the night and put a hand out for Ruby, but she’s not there. Of course, because I screwed up. I pull across the pillow she slept on and bury my head into the cotton, inhaling the sweet scent she left behind.
I’m doing the right thing.
Sleep eludes me and I pull myself out of bed, the process automatic. Get up. Dress. Treadmill. My guitar is propped against the drawers; the guitar Ruby likes to use on the days I persuade her to play to me. I should give her this, when she comes back to pick up the rest of her gear.
A spike of regret shocks me; an ache filling the void, reminding me it’s not only my bed that’s empty. I blank any thoughts of Ruby, retreat to the numb world where I’m on my own and I’m safe.
I’m doing the right thing.
Keep telling yourself that, Jem.