The moon never falls
In college, I “bought” myself a boyfriend. His
deal was simple: stay with me, and I’d cover his
family’s medical bills. This proud, brilliant
scholarship kid swallowed his pride and stayed
with me for four years. Then my family went
bankrupt. When I broke up with him, he was ice
cold, not a word of protest. Years later, I was
bussing tables in a karaoke bar, drowning in
debt, and he was a tech millionaire, dating our
class homecoming queen. He asked me, “Do
you regret it?” “No,” I said. “But I do,” he
replied.
- 1.
I never thought I’d run into Ethan Jones again,
especially like this. As I set down the fruit
platter, I kept my head down, terrified he’d
recognize me. Ashley Bell, the homecoming
queen, sat beside him. They looked perfect
together, a real power couple. “Excuse me,”
Ethan called out, “Could you cut the oranges?”
My back to him, I sliced the oranges into thin
wedges. A long time ago, when I loved oranges,
Ethan always cut them for me. He was
meticulous about it, each slice perfectly
uniform. Back then, I thought it was a sign of
affection. Later, I realized it was just a habit. He
could be thinking about anything while cutting
those oranges, anything but me. Four years felt
like a lifetime. Somehow, the conversation
drifted to college romances. Someone said, “I
heard Ethan had a girlfriend all through
college.” I froze. Ethan hummed in agreement.
“Wow, four years. That’s your entire college
experience.” Ethan didn’t respond. The guy,
sensing the awkwardness, pressed on, “Must be pretty unforgettable, right?” A heavy silence
hung in the air. Finally, Ethan let out a soft
laugh. “Not really.”
