Rubber Band Rings

They knew they were lucky to find a love such as this. One beginning in preschool; hand-holding and kisses on cheeks, crayon-drawn love confessions, and weddings at recess. The rubber bands they’d fashioned into rings didn’t leave their fingers, not for any reason. He was her prince, even though she insisted she needed no man, even at the measly age of three.

He was shy and quiet; she was loud and social. She dragged him into the school yard to play (despite his pleas not to) while he took up hours of her time showing all of his books (despite her eyes becoming heavy from boredom). At recess, he would linger behind as she flitted from group to group, talking about the newest Barbies or the coolest art project from the week. Their teacher commented how sweet their friendship was every time they sat together at the small lunch table.

Kindergarten was more of the same. When kids made fun of her for being too loud, he spoke in a tone she’d never heard from him before and demanded they leave her alone. When one boy wouldn’t stop, he threw his first and last punch. When he got sent home from school, she begged her mother to make him cookies, insisting he was only protecting her. 

She did not like anyone protecting her, but he was the exception. 

First grade brought new hobbies and friendships. He remained reserved and quiet, but acquired a few friends throughout the year. She never had to acquire them; they seemed to pop up wherever she went. They worked on their project for the science fair together, and when they won first place, he hugged her in front of the entire class. His parents had never seen him do such a thing before. 

Second grade, she moved schools - only across town, but it felt like thousands of miles. They saw each other every weekend. She told him all about the new girl at school. He told her all about the history book he’d read on his own time. They built a fort together, and he told her she was his best friend. She said she always would be. They fell asleep telling stories. They were back in the same school the next year; she insisted she hated it where she was. He knew the real reason.

Third and fourth grade were a blur for him. His parents went through a divorce in the summer between, and she did everything possible to cheer him up. He was so much paler than usual, she observed. He stayed many nights at their house to avoid the hostile environment of his own. When he couldn’t sleep, she stayed up all night talking to him about his parents. He’d never told anyone about the silent dinners, the yelling behind closed doors, and the tears he shed alone in his room where nobody could hear. 

She vowed she would protect him forever.

In fifth grade, she was excluded from a sleepover the entire class was attending. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, and she cried to him later, sitting on the floor of her living room. He had half a mind to confront the girls himself. Instead, he offered an alternate plan - they’d have their own, and it would be bigger and better than theirs. Her doubt faded almost immediately when he let her paint his nails and do his makeup. She cried again, but this time from laughing. 

He could always make her feel better. 

Sixth grade was middle school. They learned most kids thought a girl and a boy being friends was strange. When they sat on the swings at recess, talking about their favorite TV show, groups would run past singing “K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. Her face burned, and if she would have glanced over, she would have seen his burning, too. They saw less of each other, and she wished it could be different. He did, too. 

Seventh and eighth grade only pushed them farther apart while school was in session. Outside of school hours, they were able to relax with each other - walking around town for hours, jumping in leaf piles. On days she had plans with her other friends, he barely heard from her. He didn’t put his phone down until he saw her name on the screen at the end of the night. Deep down, he wished it could just be them forever. 

In ninth grade, she joined cheerleading. He laughed at her suggestion to try out for football and instead sat in the middle of the student section every Friday night. Her personality was louder than her cheers; it always had been. He never realized how big he smiled as she clapped and cheered with her teammates. She would scan the crowd, finding him, and smile even wider when their eyes met. With him there, she was confident. He was her biggest supporter. After every game, she’d invite him to the after parties. He’d always decline. 

In tenth grade, the captain of the football team asked her out. She turned him down and was called crazy by every girl in the hallways. She never did need anyone’s approval; she just smiled and said she wanted to focus on her schooling. He wondered if that was the only reason, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. At lunch, she alternated days sitting with her team and sitting with him outside on the school steps. She caught him up on all of the drama. 

He never cared about the drama, but he loved to hear her talk. 

The summer before eleventh grade, her dad passed away. He was the first person she called, hysterical on the other end of the phone. He nearly got in three crashes speeding to her house. She was a mess, sobbing, and collapsed into him the moment he opened her door. They sat on the floor of the living room, like they had thousands of times before. He held her, and did nothing but hold her. At her dad’s funeral, he never left her side. None of her teammates showed up, but he brought her lunch for two months until she could make her own again.

Senior year, she quit the cheerleading squad. They had to focus on college applications, she insisted. They sat together every day after school, outside in the fall until it got too cold. She made a list of the schools they were looking at; they would go together. She said that was decided a long time ago. He couldn’t agree more. When the time for prom came, her mom was insistent she attend. They went together, as friends. He couldn’t breathe when he saw her. She felt the same. They spent the night laughing and dancing. She fell asleep on his shoulder on the ride home.

At graduation, he picked her up and twirled her in the biggest hug she’d ever had. Their parents begged them to go to grad blast, and they reluctantly made an appearance. They’d only planned to stay an hour; they didn’t leave for three. Everyone was elated she was there. 

People were drawn to her. He couldn't blame them.

At college, they finally admitted how they felt. Nothing felt different, though; it was the same as it had always been. They had always had each other, she’d said. He was inclined to agree. Their majors were opposite - Engineering and Literature - but they were used to coordinating schedules. While others in their programs had schedules full of parties and outings, they opted to stay in. They studied together, walked each other to class on alternating days, and walked side-by-side at graduation. He proposed the moment they were off of the stage. Of course she said yes.

At their wedding, they wore their rubber band rings on their right hand while they slid diamonds onto their left. Their parents’ speeches all talked about their bringing out the best in each other. Neither of them stopped crying the entire time, and when it was time for them to leave, they blasted their favorite bands and sang at the top of their lungs all the way to the hotel. Room service sent up complimentary champagne, and they spent the night giggling together like they always had. 

A few months were wonderful. They found a small apartment on the east side of town, a little run down, but they could easily overlook it. All they cared about was coming home to each other at night. That’s all they had ever cared about.

He was in a car crash. 

She rushed to the hospital. 

He was in a coma. 

She prayed to a god she’d never spoken to before.

He didn’t move for days.

She talked to him for hours. 

He might not wake up, the doctor said. 

Please, she whispered to the sky. 

She spent every night on the hard couch in his room. She stared at him, taking in every sight she could. She fiddled with her rubber band ring, and then her wedding ring. Back and forth. She talked to him about all of the things they would do when he woke up. They’d always dreamed about traveling along the coast. She promised him if he woke up she would stop at every history museum along the way, no complaints. She promised. 

He moved one day, and she slammed the call button. The nurses rushed in. She was pushed back outside of the crowd, clutching her hands. He woke up. They made sure he was stabilized. She was finally able to rush to his side. She grabbed his hand, tears of joy running down her face. He was awake. 

His face was blank. “Have we met before?”