After the Impact

Grief doesn't disappear just because you change your address. It simply learns how to travel with you. I learned that on move-in day, standing on the cracked sidewalk outside Turner Hall, the late summer sun pressing against my skin, with my suitcase resting against my leg and my mother's hands smoothing invisible lint from my red cotton blouse. Maria Rose, my mother, stood an inch shorter than I at 5 feet 5 inches, but she was my rock and the woman I looked up to. We looked so much alike that strangers often mistook us for sisters. Same caramel-toned skin kissed by the sun, same almond-shaped brown eyes that always looked like we were holding back a thought, the same full lips that curved gently even when life pressed hard against us. Her thick curls were pulled into a loose bun, silver threading through the dark, a quiet record of years spent being strong without complaint. She'd been a single mother since I was ten, ever since my father died while serving in the army. One knock. One folded flag. A silence that never quite left our house. "You sure you're ready, Sapphire?" she asked softly. I nodded, though my chest felt tight. My own thick curls spilt freely down my back, dark and unruly, framing a face that strangers often studied longer than I liked. "I'm good, Mom," I said. "Really." She smiled, a familiar mix of pride and worry shining through. "Good. That's my girl. Project Management. First year of college. Your daddy would've been so proud of you. I am proud of you, and I want you to always remember that." I smiled despite myself. Project Management. My practical choice. My safe choice. Something structured, predictable, something that didn't require me to feel too much. My mom's words settled into me, and pride bloomed throughout my body."Thank you. You don't know how much I appreciate hearing those words." After a hug that lingered too long and whispers of staying in touch, she stepped back, memorising my face the way parents do when they know they can't protect you anymore. I watched her walk towards her dark blue 2016 Toyota Sienna, got in and sped off, before turning toward the building that would hold my next chapter. My name is Sapphire Coleman, and this was supposed to be my fresh start. I'm soft-spoken by nature, the kind of girl who observes before she speaks, who listens more than she talks. People often notice my body before they notice my silence. My body had filled out over the years, hips generous, waist soft, curves impossible to hide, no matter how loose my clothes were. I had learned early how to fold inward, how to make myself smaller even when my body refused to cooperate. Being an African American woman with a voluptuous figure means being seen even when you're trying not to be. Emphasis on the when you're trying not to be. College was supposed to be about becoming invisible long enough to figure out who I was again. "Sapph, are you daydreaming again?" Jessica's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She stood a few feet away, hands on her hips, a wide grin on her face like this was the best day of her life, which, honestly, it might have been. She stood petite and full of life, long brown hair flowing freely down her back. Her green doe eyes sparkled with excitement, and her body had blossomed beautifully over the years with soft curves complementing her small frame. Jessica Morales had been my best friend since kindergarten, back when we shared crayons and secrets and the certainty that we would always be there for each other, a constant in each other's lives. She was bold where I was cautious, loud where I was quiet, fearless where I was... broken. "I was just thinking," I said, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Girl, if you think any harder, smoke is going to come out of your ears. Come on, it's time to embark on our new journey. I can't wait to flip through the pages of this new chapter, baby," she squealed in a sing-song tone while twirling around twice, in her flowy pink sundress. Did I forget to mention that Jessica was a Journalism and Mass Communication major? She can be quite expressive and has a way with words sometimes. She wasn't afraid of being herself, which I adored about her. As we walked towards Turner Hall, the air buzzed with excitement. Students rushed past, parents called instructions, and laughter echoed off the walls. It all felt distant, like I was watching life through glass. My thoughts suddenly drifted, uninvited, to him. Malik. The boy who had known my body before I knew myself. The one who had kissed my fears away when I was sixteen, who had held my hand through my first everything. The one who died a year ago and left behind a version of me I still hadn't fully buried. My first love. My first taste of a future that disappeared in a single phone call one year ago. Car accident, they said. Hit by a drunk driver on his way to pick me up for a date on my eighteenth birthday. I haven't cared for celebrating my birthday since then. It was too painful. People said time would soften it. They didn't tell me it would also complicate it. Turner Hall loomed ahead, tall and beige and unimpressive, yet somehow monumental. Inside these walls, I would try to become someone new, or at least someone who could breathe without guilt. We were weaving through the lobby when I bumped into something solid. Or someone. "Oh— I'm sorry," I said quickly, stepping back. "No, that's on me." His voice was deep, smooth, and confident. I looked up. He was tall and athletic, broad shoulders filling out his shirt effortlessly. His skin was a deep, rich brown, his jaw sharp, his locs pulled back neatly. He carried himself with ease and confidence. He wore a crisp white shirt tucked into grey slacks that fit snugly, so snug, in fact, that my eyes betrayed me for a second before I looked away, heat creeping into my cheeks at the unmistakable outline in his pants that left little to the imagination. "I am Jason," he said, offering a smile. "And you are?" Jessica replied instantly before I got a chance to process anything. "I'm Jessica," she said brightly. "And this is Sapphire." "Sapphire," he repeated, slower this time, as if savouring the feel of my name on his tongue. His eyes held mine, not greedy, not invasive, just curious. Observing. "Beautiful name," he added. "Thank you," I murmured. We stood there for a few minutes studying each other, a satisfied smirk tugging at the side of his lips. He had the most beautiful set of hazel eyes I've ever seen, eyes I could get lost in if I allowed myself to. From Jason's perspective, there was something different about Sapphire. She didn't rush to fill the silence. Didn't perform to get his attention, as most girls at his high school did. The way she held herself, folded slightly inward despite her curves, told him she was used to being seen more than she wanted to be. "If we stare any longer, we might start burning holes into each other," he said lightly. That earned a soft, genuine laugh from me, surprising us both as I saw him raise his right eyebrow in amusement. Jessica grinned. "As much as I enjoy watching this staring contest, we do need to find our rooms." Jason smiled. "Good luck to you both. Maybe I'll see you around." As he walked away, he didn't look back, and I felt something unfamiliar stir, not desire exactly, but possibility. And that scared me more than anything. Malik's face flickered through my mind then, uninvited. His laugh. The way he used to tuck my hair behind my ear. The way loving him had felt safe. This felt different. This felt unknown. Jessica leaned closer. "Are you okay?" "I think so," I said honestly. I wasn't just carrying suitcases into Turner Hall. I was carrying a past that still claimed me... and there lingered a faint, unsettling sense that my heart might soon be torn between the two.