Page 39 of When Love Gives You Lemons
I want to ask why he ended things, ended us, why I wasn’t enough, why he didn’t try harder, why he never reached out, how I became his monster.
I want to fill him in on my entire last year, pull him down to the ground and talk to him for hours, filling in the blanks, the missing pages of our stories.
I want to ask what I missed of his life, see what he’s made with his strong hands, hear what he’s learned.
I want to nuzzle into his shoulder until my eyes flutter and the sun comes up over the mountains and bathes us in light.
“You’re still wearing the ring.” He points down.
I hadn’t realized I was fiddling with it, twirling it around my finger.
He moves closer, and I search his fingers for the ring I made him. And by “made,” I mean I watched Ricky make it after I picked out the materials. We’d been dating for about six months when one day he mentioned how much he missed wearing a ring after giving me his. I told him I wished I could make him a ring, and he got the wild idea to bring me into his nonno’s workshop. He showed me a piece his nonno was working on, an oak family tree that Sienna loved. After telling me about every tool, machine,and wood type, he asked me to pick out the wood to carve (oak leftover from his nonno’s project), and moonstone fragments he later infused into the oak ring with resin. I watched him work methodically for hours, unable to take my eyes off him.
The precision, the execution, was magic. At points, when I was in such awe I couldn’t believe he was able to possess such power of creation, I recorded him to capture that magic, even posted it to Clock, which my followers ate up, but he hated. When the ring was almost ready, resin dried, and it was time to polish and smooth it out, he sat me down and moved in behind me, placing his hands on mine, and guided me to completion.
When the ring was ready, Ricky wore it every day until our last.
Now, his fingers are bare. He rubs the center of his chest and looks away.
“Of course I am. I’ve never taken it off,” I say.
His eyebrows arch. “Really?” His surprise takes me back and fills me with a sadness I didn’t expect.
“Really.” There’s so much more I want to say, but nothing seems right anymore. I don’t know why I thought it would be easy to just get him alone and we’d see each other and, what, fall immediately back in love?
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the one I’ve spent all year hoping to get, yet I’m realizing how wholly unprepared I am. Where he once was my sun giving me strength, now he’s my kryptonite, crippling me.
Though we’re finally alone, I can’t break through either of our walls.
I don’t know how to not love Ricky, but in this moment, I don’t know how to stand here and love this version of us, either.
“You look like you have more to say.” Ricky folds his arms across his chest.
I do, but don’t know how. So I take the cowardly route and say, “Cam seems nice.” Again, my words come out twisted and mangled, and it sounds like I’m being sarcastic, but I’m not—Oof. What am I doing?! This is too damn awkward!
He shakes his head, a show of disappointment, and turns to walk away in silence.
“Ricky, wait—”
He stops beside me.
Cedar and sweat, Ricky’s signature scent, envelop me. His warm breath prickles my skin and smells like a full-bodied red wine. Shivers shimmy up my spine.
“What?” He’s impatient.
Say something, Fielder!
We were always each other’s kryptonite—uninhibited and raw, our bodies magnets. I fight the overwhelming urge to grab and kiss him.
Every fiber, muscle, tendon, bone in my body pulls me closer until—
“There you guys are!” Topher’s voice is a crack of thunder that splits us apart. “What’s, uh, happening here?”
I’m breathing so hard I might throw up.
Think fast.“I was going for a swim maybe?”
The water ripples and jiggles like neon-blue Jell-O.
