The Ex Vows

by Jessica Joyce

Halfway into our inaugural year of middle school, the friends I thought were forever suddenly decided I was too needy, that my desire to hang out at their houses all the time was burdensome, and my occasional emotional moments were supremely irritating.

Years later Eli will tell me that he fell in love with me right then, and in this movie-like memory I always see it—how we can’t quite break eye contact, the flush along the shell of his ear when I sit next to him on the couch minutes later, the way his eyes linger on me when Adam and I bicker over control of the TV, the steady bounce of his knee. The beautiful, shy smile he gives me over the pizza we have for dinner later. He’ll hold on to it for years, but eventually that spark will become a wildfire. And then we’ll burn it all down.

This has been the only way to reliably stay in his orbit.

Sometimes I swear adulthood is staring at your phone and wondering which of your friends has enough time to deal with your latest emotional meltdown, then realizing none of them do.

All I hear is, you won’t be around if you’re too much. It’s an old fear, refreshed on an endless spin cycle.