Ruby

I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep, and I didn’t move. I sat on the corner of the desk, watching people move about. Today they seemed more agitated somehow. Then Laura came in, mascara streaming down her face, amber hair looking particularly mussed.

“She’s dead, Ruby,” she told me. “She’s dead.”

I knew who she was talking about. There’s only one She between us–her grandmother, Opal. Opal had introduced us when Laura was much smaller and in need of a soothing presence and someone to talk to. Laura was always such an emotional being. Her grandmother knew that.

“This is Ruby,” she told Laura. “Treat her well, and she will take care of you.”

Laura didn’t believe her then, but I had always been there, ready to help when needed, and over time Laura seemed to realize it. I know so many of her secrets, and I will never tell them to another soul.

Right then, Laura needed someone. I was there. She needed a friend. I was a friend. She needed comfort. I let her cry, her crystalline tears falling on me.

Eventually Laura stopped crying. I still sat with her, silently waiting, silently comforting. She sat up and looked at me. Her usually clear emerald eyes were clouded with streaks of carmine. She had been weeping for so long. Such an emotional child…

“I have to go take care of things now,” she said. She sighed, momentarily recovering. With her, everything is a moment. Her expressions, her looks, her life… She was always changing while I was always the same, and would always be.

She picked me up, turning me over and around in her hand. When we first met, she needed to hold me in both hands. Now she only needed one. The white light glinted off the bits of mica in my shell and made the amethyst in my center seem to glow. She smiled. She seemed to remember times with Opal, of good times, and other times. She seemed to remember times with me: secrets told, stories shared, and things forgotten.

“She was right, you know,” Laura sighed, giving a weak laugh. “Who would have thought a rock would become such a good friend?”