I haven’t cried in two weeks. The only way I’ve kept track of time moving, days passing, are the days I’ve lived without a breakdown. Tom’s death made me realize that only some things are truly worth crying over and I shouldn’t waste my tears on the worries of every day life. I see the way people stare. I feel the pity seeping from their skin. I’m proud, in a fairly twisted way, of the fact that I haven’t made eye contact with anyone since I last saw his. His eyes are burned into mine. I see them even when mine are open. His eyes were the brightest green and they were the kind of eyes that dared you to look into them, you just couldn’t resist.
I’m sitting in a pew in a church. I can’t remember what church I’m in or who drove me here. I can’t seem to remember what anyone looks like anymore. I feel as though the thought of Tom has driven out all my other thoughts. He’s taken over my whole life from the inside out. People are passing me and I know I’m supposed to say something but I can’t quite remember what the words are supposed to sound like. A man just stood up in the front of the room and he’s told everyone to take a seat. I try to look him in the eyes but just as my gaze reaches his cheekbone, it drops to the floor.

I’m fidgeting with the string coming loose from his sweater. I thought it fitting to wear the only thing I have that still smells like him to his funeral. Big, white, chunky and warm, wearing it brings me the only comfort I can find without him. I sniff the collar and wrap my arms tightly around myself. Everyone in the room turns to see if I’m just readjusting myself or if I’m about to make a run for it. No one thought I’d come. I don’t look up to see them turn back around in their seats. Staring at the dirty faded material, I remember how this sweater used to look on him.
It was a month after school had started and I was sitting in my seat in French. I was lost in thought, about what I can’t remember now, when the door opened. I turned to see a green eyed boy looking straight at me. He had tan, freckled skin and dark blonde hair. He was wearing jeans and his wonderful white sweater.
“Cara?” He said my name questioningly while keeping his eyes locked on mine.
“Yeah, that’s me…” I’m sure I whispered it because I couldn’t believe I’d never seen him at school before. Where had he been?
“I found this,” he held up my bracelet, “in Mr. Kingston’s room. Is it yours?” He started to walk towards my desk. I looked up at him and smiled.
“Yeah, it is.” As he reached out to give my bracelet back, our hands touched and I had the overwhelming urge to hold on tight and run. “Thanks.” I said as I slowly drew my hand back. He couldn’t look away either it seemed. Tom stood still in front of my desk. I didn’t want him to move. I wanted him closer.

“Well I have… to go back, but nice meeting you…” He trailed off because he didn’t even know my name yet.
“Cara, it’s Cara.” I said while trying to put my bracelet on with one hand.
“Here, let me.” He came close again and bent down to clasp my bracelet on to my wrist. His face was dangerously close to mine. My eyes danced over the details of his face. I reveled in the slight curve of his freckled nose. I envied his long eyelashes. I smiled at his defined cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. Much too soon, he’d secured the bracelet and began backing away.
“Thanks again…” I waited for him to fill in his name as I’d done earlier.
“I’m Tom.” He beamed at me from the frame of the door.
“Thank you, Tom.” The words barely escaped my almost painful smile. His face made me feel as though my whole body were smiling. I’d never felt so pleased to be me in my life. I was taken a back when I realized, only hours after seeing him for the first time, I’d begun planning things for us. I’d started to dream of the things we’d do together, the things we’d see. I was already madly in love.
Stroking the bird on my bracelet, trying not to hear the man speaking of Tom’s life like it was someone none of us knew, I remember thinking that we’d never fight. I never wanted to fight with him because I never wanted to see him sad or angry. We rarely disagreed on anything in the beginning. I can still hear the words we screamed at each other when we realized our relationship wasn’t perfect. The day we fought for the first time, our perfect world cracked just a little.
He was driving me home after a party he’d convinced me to go to at his friend’s house. Being stupid, I was angry that I wasn’t the popular girl I thought he deserved. Looking back, he’d acted perfectly the whole night. He introduced me to everyone and gave me all his attention. He loved me no matter who my friends were or how many of them I had. I was insecure and I didn’t want to lose him. Tom glanced over to my side of the car and saw my expression and my crossed arms.
“What’s wrong, love?” He seemed to have been in a good mood and I could tell I was disappointing him by not being equally as happy with our night.
“I’m not going to lie to you because I never want to lie to you.” I looked over at him to see his eyes narrow, trying to predict what I was going to say. “I know I’m not the best girl for you and I’m annoying myself just saying this out loud, but I can’t help it. I feel like you deserve so much better.” I felt terrible the second I’d said it. I didn’t want to cause dumb drama I’d always prided myself on avoiding. “I think I love you more than you love me and I just feel like you would be better with someone in your friend group…” I trailed off, hating the way the words tasted in my mouth.

I tried to read his face to see what he was thinking. His expression hadn’t changed since I’d started talking. He stared out the window, concentrating on the road. It was infuriating. He had nothing to say, no reaction at all. Finally, he spoke. “I thought this would happen.” He whispered without looking at me. A spark of anger flared in me.

“What?” I said, the lack of patience starting to show in my tone. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean I thought you might get insecure because of my reputation… which is ridiculous because…” I didn’t let him finish.
“Really? You thought I’d get insecure? You make me sound like a little kid. I’m not a little kid. I can handle my insecurities. I was just thinking of you.” I nagged at him the whole way home. I hated myself but I couldn’t stop. The words just kept spilling out of me. I didn’t let him get a word in. I was wound up and I had to say everything I’d been thinking since we’d started dating.
He pulled up in front of my house and by that time I was so angry that I ripped off his sweater, threw it back in the car, and sprinted inside. Once I got in my bed to really think about how terrible of a girlfriend I was. I realized how ridiculous the whole thing was and how perfect he’d been. My ego had taken a huge hit and I couldn’t bare to call and apologize just hours after I’d made a fool of myself. I fell asleep thinking of the emotionless expression he’d worn through my tantrum.
I’ll never forget the feeling I got deep in the pit of my stomach the moment I saw him leaned against his car the next morning. I was just about to leave for school when I looked out the window and there he stood. He’d been waiting in my driveway to tell me he didn’t care how much I yelled or cried, he’d love me because he knew the person behind all the yelling. He opened the door for me and I saw that chunky white sweater waiting for me right where I’d left it.

“Tom impacted many people with his extraordinary kindness…” The man standing in the front of the room is going on about all the characteristics he doesn’t know Tom had. He didn’t know Tom. He’d never even met him. I can’t listen to this. I try not to think about the night he died, but being here, I can’t do anything else.
Snow fell outside my window as I wrapped myself in the white sweater and got into bed. I’d decided I was going to go to bed early when the phone rang. I remember the way my friend’s voice sounded strained, like she didn’t really want say what she knew she had to say. She told me that she’d seen Tom with one of the girls from the popular group. I was crushed.
I called him immediately and began shouting. He got upset quickly and screamed he didn’t want to do this over the phone before hanging up. Twenty minutes later his car pulled up in front of my house. I ran out in my pajamas and his sweater. Sitting side by side in his car, we didn’t really have much to say. We’d had time to cool off and I didn’t want to fight anymore.
“I think it might be over…” I whispered, not meaning a single word. I truly did not want to lose him, but being the daft girl I was, I’d decided I knew what was best.
“I don’t.” He said forcefully, turning completely in his seat to look at me. His eyes were pleading me not to continue. I knew he wouldn’t take my breaking up with him seriously and he’d show up at my house the next morning to tell me he loved me. That’s the only reason I felt comfortable saying all that I was saying.

“Look, don’t make this difficult. I love you so much…” I was about to finish my sentence when a blinding light stopped me. A truck had lost control on the snowy road and slammed into Tom’s side of the car. The last thing I remember before the crash was Tom seeing the car coming, and reaching for me. He’d been reaching out to hold me one last time.
I’d felt myself fly from the car and land with a sickening thud on the cold pavement. I lifted my body painfully off the ground and began to crawl over the broken glass. I could feel the shards slicing my hands and legs. I didn’t care about the tears blurring my vision and the wild screams ripping through my throat. I couldn’t feel any of it. I finally reached him and collapsed onto his chest. I sobbed into his jacket until the pain was too much and I fainted.
Waking up in the hospital the next morning, tubes coming out of my arm, leg in a cast, and bandaged from head to toe, I didn’t believe what had happened. I saw my body and I remembered the crash but when they told me Tom wasn’t here anymore, I simply didn’t believe them. He had to be alive and he would come tell me he loved me any minute. Only when I realized I wasn’t wearing the sweater anymore, did I let the truth fully sink in. I didn’t cry. All I could do was silently beg for a second chance.
I’m back at home from the funeral and I’m trying desperately to fall asleep. I’m trying to remember any bit of the funeral. I don’t remember what I wore expect for the sweater. I know I was wearing his sweater and my bracelet. Tomorrow is the first day back at school from winter break and I’m going to be exhausted. I’ll probably wear the sweater again. I’ve lost all shame. I’ll do anything because I no longer care what anyone thinks of me.
I couldn’t find the sweater this morning. It doesn’t make any sense because I’m sure I fell asleep in it last night. Wearing a sweatshirt not nearly as comfortable as his sweater, I walk into French. Sitting in this desk will probably always be painful because this is where he changed my life forever. I’m trying to focus on the board when I see the door open out of the corner of my eye. As I glance over, my breath catches and my heart stops. There he is, that green eyed boy in his white chunky sweater, and he’s staring straight at me.