Saving Ruby King

by Catherine Adel West

Silently and fervently, I protect the words that tumble off lips or the tears that fall down cheeks. Desired or not, I’m heir to their memories and I pluck out moments, those that are forgotten or want to be forgotten, those that are happy and hopeful, sad and incomplete.

One thought begets a regret which brings another thought which begets another regret and so on, his mind never loosed from the internal churning of his shame.

You need to figure out when to fight and when to be still,

What are the frayed bindings holding these people together when ties should be cut?

People say things so much we believe them, and Layla is good with strategy, but I don’t want her to scheme and plot and plan. I don’t want her to tell me things are going to be okay. I just need her to do something small but hard at the same time. I just need her to listen. Even if I don’t talk much.

“You believe a lot of things.” She said it to cut me a little, impress upon me some lesson she’d learned long ago: hope in too many things is as frivolous a luxury as a genuine Louis Vuitton bag.