Life is changing. A constant current of time. Minutes turn into hours, and then into days. Days pass by, and a new month comes. This is how life moves. The darkness falls around me and then somehow it is morning. The clock on the shelf ticks quietly, seconds passing into memory. Dust settles on the shelf. The rain falls in a steady hum. It’s comforting, something to count on. It will always rain.
A memory lingers in my mind, like a picture that sits on my desk; it has yellowed at the edges. Two young girls stare out, arms draped around each other, and mouths open in childish smiles. I think about that memory, about the two girls I remember so clearly. It will be one year this June, and yet this is how I remember us, bad times overwhelming, bad times threatening everything I thought was our lives. Someone needs to knock on the door. I need to talk to someone about the first and last time I ever talked to her. That moment so long, long ago when we were close. And maybe, once I talk about it, I’ll begin to understand what it was that made us click, understand who we were way back then. Maybe I can move back towards that person again. Maybe.
Time fades away. The silence weighs heavy on my chest. And I look back at the memories like an old, yellowed photograph, that I pull out, sweep off the dust, and peer in close; hoping to find out what it was exactly that I felt. There is the memory, me opening the door to my house, calling to my mother and sisters, they are in the living room. Mom is folding clothing and the twins are playing Nintendo. I walk in and say hello, then curl myself onto the couch. The fireplace sends out a warm glow, casting yellow shadows across the white carpet and burgundy furniture. The television hums quietly. In the background I can hear the rain fall. The front door opens and Tiffany walks in, like always. Her hair falls in limp red tendrils down her blue coat. She comes to the couch and sits with me. I look over at her and wonder where she has been, what trouble she has been in. She smiles at me, and I smile back. I want to ask her about her day, about her feelings. I want to tell her she’s the best friend that I have.
And then I remember. The words were left unspoken. I never even started; Like so many things left unsaid. The memory fades back into the photo album of my mind. The rain falls. The time comes to me, sits beside me, curls its hands around my shoulders, it holds me tight, and then before I’m ready, it moves on.
When Someone Dies…
A curl of cold slipped through the opening of my jacket. I pulled the collar up around my neck, and trudged on through the rainy mist and soggy brown clay. It was cold out, my breath coming out in gray puffs. Tiffany’s pale, read head was barely visible through the sheets of rain coming down. Her eyes were red and puffy, she had been crying. I sat down next to her on the wet grass; letting the cold take over my body, numb my fingers, my nose, and my heart.
“I can’t believe this is happening. He can’t really be gone,” she almost whispered it. The words stung. I felt like a pie pan that has just been dented. Droplets of clear rain slid down my face in the place of tears. Tiffany slipped her hand out of her pocket, and grabbed mine.
“We really should go in. Come on,” she said to break the silence. I sat there for a moment, looking at her hand. The thin wiry red veins that traveled through her wrist, and then disappearing off into her milky flesh. Blood rushed through those veins. That’s what keeps her alive. The flesh stretched over her hands, the tendons quite noticeable, and her skin nearly translucent.
Something made me get up off the wet ground. Wet pieces of hair stuck to my cheeks. The cold air licked at the flesh not covered by my jacket. I imagine my reflection: blond scattered hair, puffy red face, eyes dark with anger and sadness. Tiffany was watching me from a foot away. Her green eyes scanning my face for emotion, and I glanced off in the opposite direction. She could see through my mask, the one I put on to get through today. My pain was recognizable; she knew I was only trying to be strong. My head swam with faceless thoughts, dizziness making me nauseous. Her arm settled around my shoulders, pulling me towards the church.
Everything was gray to me. Gray faces, gray words, and gray thoughts on a gray day. I didn’t feel Tiffany’s arm anymore, so I reached and felt her hand resting on my shoulder. She was there. The coffin was carried past me. Condolences said, but the words seemed meaningless. Alex’s mother came to me; the wrinkles in her face seem more defined. I try to say something, but the words are stuck in my throat. The pastor speaks. My eyes don’t leave the coffin. I’m losing my sanity. The wood is shiny, glazed black. I wonder if it will keep the bugs out. I’m seeing Alex’s face disintegrate before me. It’s funny though it shouldn’t be. A laugh escapes me. I’m laughing. Suddenly I feel horrible. What would these people think if they heard me laughing at my boyfriend’s funeral? I look up. Everyone has left, except for Tiffany on my right and Ryan on my left. They both have a hand on me. I can read their thoughts. They think I’ve lost it. The need to get away is too strong. My legs feel disconnected from my body. The door to the church stands open. It’s begging me to walk out it. Then there’s the coffin. It’s open too.
He’s lying there with eyes closed. The veins in his arms are blue. I remember that they drain the blood at the mortuary. His hair is parted in the way that makes him look older. Who dressed him? His mother? No, she didn’t even dress her own self half the time. He’s wearing a blue shirt that makes him seem like he’s going to a prom. His hands lay folded across his chest. Pale oh so pale. I take his hand in my own; let the warmth of mine warm his, as if I can warm him back to life. I want to climb in the coffin with him. Bury me too.
Tiffany read my thoughts, and pulls me away, out the door into the gray morning. We sit on the steps; my legs wont take me any further. I turn to face her, and let my eyes catch hers. Did I tell you I loved him? Did you know how much he meant? I loved him and you don’t even know. She pats my hand as if to say she knows, but I know she doesn’t. We never talked about it. It was my secret, my other life. I can’t look her in the eyes. I am too shamed. Her hand feels cold, and I let go. Do you even know that I will never be the same?
Cleaning up the mess left behind…
The song played endlessly in the van. I wrapped my blanket up to my chin, and held in the heat. ♪♬ Let her cry if her tears fall down like rain.♪♬ The words play over and over again in my head. Tiffany is reclining in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window. I like the way the droplets of water fall down the glass behind her. Her crimson colored hair glows against the dull background. I dig my camera out of my bag, and put it to my face. Her eyes are green shells with dark lashes. She doesn’t smile. The click of the camera is reassuring.
I tap on the steering wheel in tune to the song. My car doesn’t keep us warm enough, so I have to keep moving to stay warm. Outside people scurry to and fro, but we sit still, time creeping by. It never changes with us; the quiet, simple knowing we need each other. Tiffany starts talking about her new boyfriend. I laugh when she calls him a stage. They are all stages.
“What’s he like?” I ask her. She looks at me like I should know. The void that fills the car almost hurts. Like this silence is eating my soul. I pick up my camera again, run my fingers over the dials, along the sharp lines. How fragile is this lens? If I dropped it would it shatter? Would it break off into pieces like my life has?
“He’s the quarterback of the team,” she says suddenly. Her voice doesn’t have its typical perky edge to it. “He’s tall, muscular, the whole nine yards.” She seems in a trance, her voice floating above her body. I smile at her thought I want to ask more questions. How long is this one going to last? Why do you sound so unhappy about him? I fiddle with my fingers, dropping them into my lap. I pull down my visor mirror. My eyes look bloodshot and tired. Whose eyes are these? What have they seen? I am a stranger even to myself. I turn my head from Tiffany, and laugh at the silence.
“So any new guys yet?” The question catches me by surprise. I search for a quick answer. My head shakes no. There was no one new yet. There wasn’t going to be. Tiffany is searching for something there. The headshake is all I can come up with. Her eyes make me feel uncomfortable. What do you want me to say Tiffany? That I’ve found someone new to replace Alex? She can’t read my mind. She doesn’t even speak, just turns to look out the window at the people wandering down the barren streets. That wound has yet to heal, and it’s very far out of grasp. I try to ignore the hurt that has risen up in me. She should say something to me; something to make the pain go away. I want her to shrink herself down, sink through my skin into my veins and remove the pain. I know she can’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that I need to be healed.
The song ends, and I hit play again. ♪♬ Let her leave, let her walk right out on me, and if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be.♪♬
Autumn brings peace…
Concrete is cold and hard. I ignore where it is pressing into my backside. The sun is shining down through the trees in it’s cool, fall shimmer. A crow calls out from the top of the oak tree. It has clean black feather that reflect the light. Fall is sweet and refreshing, drifting over me in blue breeze. I don’t want to move from my spot, just sit here and take in the beauty of autumn.
The weather is the opposite of what is going through my mind. Despite the warmth of the day I feel very cold and alone. Tiffany sits a few feet away, her fingers tapping the keys on her cell phone. The number one person in her life: the phone. I watch the pieces of light flicker and move about on the concrete in little tendrils of gold and yellow; A puzzle of colors. I notice that the school’s lawn seems greener than usual. How much fertilizer did that take?
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s a text message from Ryan. I click the phone shut. I don’t feel like answering. I’m not even sure what to say as of right now. Everything is confusing. The phone vibrates again and I shove it deeper into my pocket. There were too many things to think about. I’m not 100% sure of who I am anymore. I’m not sure if it’s okay to feel anything.
The sun is temporary comfort when it peaks out from behind the trees. My thoughts are pushed away as I try to concentrate on my own breathing; the oxygen flowing into my blood. Can body distinguish these emotions?
“Who keeps texting you?” Tiffany asks. I squint at her through the sunlight. There is the big question. Once I answered she would want to know more. I felt so different, an effigy of the person I’m supposed to be.
“Ryan,” I say bluntly as if he means nothing to me, as if I barely know the guy. My heart is pounding in my chest, praying she doesn’t ask any questions. I doubt I could answer them. She must be watching me, because she is very quiet. I don’t want to look up, don’t want to catch her gaze. That would betray too much.
“Does this mean that you are getting over Alex?” her voice drops off so that I can barely hear his name. She thinks that the sound of his name hurts me. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s the guilt that hurts. She shakes me loosely, and then knocks on my head playfully.
“Hello, earth to Lydia. Anyone home?” she says jokingly. “You do realize that it is okay to tell me what you are thinking.” She just smiles that million-dollar smile.
“Tiffany it wouldn’t even be worth talking about.” I smile through my clenched teeth, praying she doesn’t see through this false smile. Who am I? Why do I lie even to my best friend? She just shrugs me off, knowing I’m hiding something. But the words still don’t come. I can’t tell her the truth. How am I to tell you that the guilt is worse than original pain? There is no way to explain how it feels to move on. She’s avoiding my gaze, so I lean back onto the cement and take in the sun. At least the I know that the sun will shine. It’s the one thing I can count on.
If only I had opened my eyes
The cold followed her in when the door opened. She took off her jacket and I saw the marks on her arm; Red lines that cut into her skin. Then I opened my mouth and asked her what they were. I should’ve been quiet like I always was.
“They’re nothing Lydia,” she had glared at me. Her eyes were flashing daggers that said, “Mind your own business.” But I couldn’t.
‘Don’t blow me off, Tiffany. I care about you. What’s going on?” I was begging her to tell me. I needed the reassurance that we were still close. Some sort of sign that she still cared.
“I don’t see why the hell you care so much. No one else does,” she said.
“But I do and I want to help you. You shouldn’t be hurting yourself. Please tell me,” I felt like crying. I was trying to be strong. The thin lines cut across the white flesh of her wrist. There were scars. She had been doing this for a while. Why hadn’t I noticed?
“You’ve been too wrapped up in Lydia. You’ve been so involved in getting over Alex that you ignored the fact that there were people around you with bigger problems,” she took a deep breath. My head swam. I was ignoring everyone? I didn’t even realize. “I don’t want to be around you anymore,” she said suddenly.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her arm, the lines that she had cut into her skin. They were thick, thin, bright red, and some fading. I reached out and grabbed her arm, ran my hands along the torn flesh. She didn’t pull away. Her skin was bumpy and lined, the wounds turning into scars as I sat there. She didn’t flinch. I don’t think she was even breathing.
“Why?” I said quietly. I held her wrist in my hands, and thought about when she cut herself. Why did she take out the blade and run it across her arm? What had she felt? Had she felt anything?
“Some people move on quicker than others. Some people are better at acting. I’m not you, Lydia. I haven’t let go,” her voice seemed sad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her wrist. “I can’t do this anymore. Sometimes leaving behind the past is the only way to heal. Even if it means letting go of the people who mean the most.”
I stopped and looked at her. I wanted to find the words, something to say to her that would change her mind. How can you forget nine years of friendship? How can you leave me? I need you. She put her coat back on, and opened the front door and stepped out. Out into the cold, and out of my life.
She couldn’t turn back. I watched her walk away from me, knowing that she wasn’t going to come back. The rain fell around her, and her red hair was plastered to her face. Why did she have to lie? My eyes wouldn’t leave her back, the slim figure of hers disappearing into the fine mist of evening. The kitchen chair that held me creaked as I moved. A candle flickered on the table, casting ghostly shadows across my face; across the kitchen walls. She should have told me the truth.
She was gone now. My own ignorance had stolen her away from me. I sat there watching the candle’s flame. What have I done? What things should I have said? The rain pelted against the windowsill. Do you how much you don’t know, Tiffany? And now you never will.
When the End Comes
Time is shattered. The sun still rises, and the rain still falls. The world moves around me as I stand still. The memory traps me here in this place. My house is empty, the rooms cluttered and dusty. Some days I rise from this ragged old mattress and look in the mirror. I look into the faded blue eyes of this old woman and try to reach out and touch her. But she’s really not there. The wrinkles and white wispy hair isn’t Lydia.
On my desk is that picture of Tiffany and me. We look young and innocent, naive even. I wonder what time has done to us. The seconds, minutes, hours, and days changing everything we were, everything we are. Life ticks away.
I sit on my bed, curl the blankets up around me, and close my eyes. The memories flood my mind. Little pictures of a lifetime. Two little girls swinging at the playground, pretty teenagers shopping at the mall, and then there is just my life; my life after her. There is the wedding day, the first child, the grandchildren, and then the end. I close my eyes praying for rest, praying the memories will fade like our friendship did.
And then the rain falls. Then time comes to me. It sits beside me for a moment, holds my hand, and then long before I am ready it moves on.
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Lydia Emily
