Pretty Little Bones

Come on Make it Easy, Say I Never Mattered

Come on Make it Easy, Say I Never Mattered

It was always hard to think of Ava as anything other than simply Ava.

She was such a big part of my life that it seemed wrong to confine her to a simple word. Smart. Strange. Sad. Nothing could describe her the way she was with me, because no word captured every side.

There wasn't one that described the way she whispered under her breath to herself or the way she covered her sincerity in sarcasm. One word would never be able to describe the little grin she gave when a curse slipped from her lips or the wink she gave when she told a joke. A single word wouldn't tell people how deeply she cared for the sunlight or how intensely she loved those that showed her any sort of affection.

Nothing was right enough for her. Not to me.

Everything she did was symbolic and people like that aren't just a word. They're an idea. A feeling.

Ava was something special.

And along with that something special, Ava also always carried her own special things: two rings, a piece of mint flavored gum, two hairbands, and a jacket.

The rings—a class-ring to remind her of how she was raised and a silver band given by her mother to remind her of how dangerous it is to trust and how easy it is to be hurt—she wore on the middle and ring fingers of her right hand every day. They never came off. Constantly, she twisted them around and around like they were the anchors keeping her feet on the ground and she was always toying with the idea of just taking them off and flying away.

The mint flavored gum she chewed daily, bouncing the green rubber between the sharp edges of her teeth and letting it roll about on her pale tongue long after the flavor had dissipated. At first, the habit started as a reminder to not run her mouth instantly, but to instead chew over her words until she had confidence in them. Once something is said, it can never be taken back and she feared words. 

However, I had a sinking suspicion that she also used it to cover up the scent of vomit on her breath, just like the liar she was.

The two hairbands she kept on her left wrist, one black and one red. While they served the practical purpose of allowing her to scoop the long, dirty-blonde waves of hair off her back and pile them on top of her head, they also reminded her that she was the one in control. Occasionally, she would slip a long, slender finger between the black band and her pale skin, pull it as far back as the colored fabric would go, and release, letting the elastic slap back into place and sting the flesh. The simple action told her she owned the pain. She controlled her life.

The jacket she kept on at all times, no matter the temperature. She liked the comfort it provided, stretching over the fragile, tiny bones of her arms, making her look bigger and feel warmer.

After the façade slipped, rumors started that the sleeves hid scars and tender veins, but they were lies created to stoke what originally looked to be such a promising fire but had instead dissolved into a disappointing ash. They should've looked at the fact that she only ever wore long pants if they wanted some kind of fiery damnation to douse her in. There was promise under the fabric on her thighs.

But I knew better than to listen to any rumors, because after the façade slipped, I was the only one that actually saw Ava.

She only took the jacket off for me.

I guess I was the only one to notice any of the things she did. People probably didn't notice the rings, or the gum, or the hairbands. They certainly didn't know what everything stood for.

And I guess that's why Ava did things for me that she didn't do for everyone else. I was the only one she trusted. I was the only one making an effort to understand.

So it became my job to understand every little thing about her, which wasn't hard. I knew her so well already.

Still, there was always a sense of burning pride when I could make her smile. A real one, where she couldn't help showing me her teeth, the ones she hated so badly. The ones she kept hidden behind her thin, pink lips. The ones she chewed on the inside of her cheeks with.

No one else could make Ava really smile. They couldn't make her throw her head back, let the ends of the blonde waves kiss the waist of her jeans, and laugh like a little kid. Not like I could.

"I'll never admit to sayin' this, but life would suck without you, Carter," she'd say, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, careful to keep the happy tears from sliding down her cheeks. "Life would really suck."

I'd just laugh and shake my head like it all meant nothing. But it meant everything to me. People like her don't come along very often and I loved every second of her storm. 

So it worried me how preoccupied she always was with death. It scared me when she'd let her eyes get pale and say "I think I'm dying, Carter. I think there's something wrong with me."

Because I thought so too. There was definitely something wrong with her. She wanted to love everyone so badly that she forgot to love herself.

I don't know how to fix that.