sometimes they stay still

chapter two

it's been two days and you feel like you're a test tube being held together with masking tape with liquid still inside and you're trying desperately to keep it in and hold yourself together so you don't explode

you haven't really seen jane since then, which can only be good, because every time your eyes meet hers you get yanked right back to when you were fifteen and back from france during the summer holidays and you'd just come out of the bathroom wiping your hands on your skirt to dry them and you froze because your mother was sitting on your bed looking at you accusingly and you were dragged out to the bathroom with the scales and you'd lost two stone in three months and your mother was crying because she thought it had just been a phase when the dorm mistress had called about it last year and you were crying because you'd wanted to lose three and you're so pathetic maura you can't even starve right-

when jane looks at you you get that same sick feeling

so you hide.

which is silly, because what can jane do? you remind yourself over and over that jane is not your friend any more, despite how the very thought makes you feel like you just bit your nails down to the quick and plunged your hands into a bowl of lemon juice.

she is not your friend and she can't do anything. and you remind yourself that this is a good thing- now you're out from under jane's shadow, you can be whatever you want

you can be maura 2.0, a smart but confident maura, a skinny maura, a skinnier than jane maura, a better than jane maura

because if she won't apologise, won't admit she was wrong, won't admit that for once you were superior

then you'll just have to show her. that was your logic here. you'll show jane that you don't need her to make you special and wanted. you can rip the friendship you had up just as easily as you can rip the fat from your body.

you have always been numbers.

the numbers of marks on the tests, the numbers of days until you could go back to france and away from this house full of words and conversation and art and illogic

the numbers of people you beat to get this job that job this placement

the numbers of zeroes on the end of the price tags on the dresses you wear

the numbers of bodies

you are a creature of logic. it had always been this way. and jane has been the anomaly in your life so far

she swept in on a chaotic wave of laughter and guesswork and blew away all your routines, your habits, your handholds, and she ripped off your comfort blanket and dragged you out to play in the sea

and for a while, it was fun. you forgot about your self-imposed curfew as you stayed late at the bar, clinging on to jane's arm as she loudly called for more beer

you forgot about the billions of bacteria in the public bathrooms you went to when jane dragged you out to the cinema and you shared popcorn and smiles

jane relaxed you and electrified you at the same time. she was like some strange kind of caffeine/ambien blend.

but now she's gone you've grabbed back on to your little rock, your numbers

but this time you're back to the scales and the ridges of your spine and your ribs. one-two-three-four.

eventually you get caught.

you're not stupid, you knew it would happen eventually. it's freakishly like a replica of the scene from twenty-odd years ago, except this time it's not your mother in your bedroom but it's susie chang in your office but the look in their eyes and the tornado of fear in your stomach are

exactly

the same

you pass it off as a bad stomach bug but you know you're not fooling her, but thank god thank god she doesn't say what she's thinking and leaves

and your hands are shaking and when you look down you see the cut on your knuckle has reopened, and you're dripping saliva-y blood on the floor.

susie seems to have lasted longer than you expected, but eventually rumours start slipping around. you can practically see it in the air, an oily black smear swooping from shoulder to shoulder and you can't help but shudder as their eyes light up with malicious curiousity- 'i knew no one was that skinny naturally!' 'especially as she wasn't exactly delicate before-' and the nasty laughter leaves smoke trails in the air and your stomach roils and clenches along with your hands and your jaw and all you can think of is jane

she has to know, she can't have not heard. the entire precinct was awash with gossip about their split. you're a hot topic and you know it.

their eyes bore into you and your legs as you step out the glass doors and into the city streets, and you don't feel half as triumphant as you did before.

later that night you break out the alcohol. no fine wines for you tonight- it's neat vodka shots, one-two-three-four-five-six and maybe more but you can't tell you don't know where you are or why you're doing this and you break down and cry and scream for janejanejane

you're like a little kid telling stories to yourself now. maybe jane will come in and throw herself at your feet and beg for your forgiveness

maybe she'll tell you that she's been jealous of you all these years

maybe she'll even join in with you. you've always wondered about how she stays that skinny with all that cholesterol-

but it's eleven already and the phone hasn't rung and something's off because jane can always always tell when you need her and even though you're not speaking surely she places you above her pride?

so you wait for another hour and after a few more shots you give up and start swigging directly from the bottle and your eyes are swimming and all of a sudden you're on the floor and jane still hasn't rung

why hasn't she called?

maybe she's coming over instead, you think. so somehow you make your way to the door and lie in front of it ready for her to come in and lay down next to you and hug you and make it all okay and tell you you're beautiful like she did that time when you had a panic attack about wearing a bikini when she wanted to go to the pool with you

one am and jane's not here.

two am.

three am.

and you sit and wait and wish and cry and you're so tired you can't sleep and you're possibly the dirtiest you've ever been in your life because your face is puffy from crying and your eyes are smeared with mascara and you threw up in the succulent by your door

this is probably why jane doesn't come, you think, and and you're all out of tears so you lie on your back and watch the room slowly fill with grey light until it's saturday morning and the birds are singing and your neighbours are driving and chatting but here in your hall it's as silent as the grave

because jane didn't come.