01 March 2013

(OFF TOPIC) Short story: Best Buddies




I still remember that time when we were little. I don't know why there was nothing special about it. We were playing together in her room, she snatched a toy from my grip and my fingernail was ripped off. It hurt, and she felt bad, but I thanked her instead. You see a week or so earlier I had closed my finger in the door of my kindergarten class room, the nail was purple and ready to fall off anyway, so I hadn't minded when she's sped up the process. It's the most vivid memory I have of her from when we were kids.

Our mom's spent lots of time together when we were growing up. So much time in fact she was more then just a cousin to me. I considered her to be my sister, the sister I had always wanted. It makes me sad now though how little I can remember of all the time we spent together, and as we got older then less time we did spend together. Only at family functions, and a few times during the summer would we meet up again. We had our own little group, it was four of us. Him and his sister, and me and my little brother. We paired off accordingly her sister and my brother were closest in age, only a year apart, while I was only two years older then her. It's at these times I remember her most, because ever since our group was cut to three, I feel even more like the outcast. We never saw our other cousins too much, out side of family the family functions, and even then we'd rarely talk to them.

She was even more the outcast then anyone else, though I hate to say it. She'd often had destructive tendencies, and a poor listening ability that would always get her into trouble. I was probably one of the few people who didn't scold her for anything. I didn't put up a fuss no matter how many times she pushed me into the pool, and even when she was banished to the car for one reason or another I provided an excuse for her not to stay there. I was lonely, I wanted someone to play with so I asked her to stay. We were buddies, best buddies. I loved her like my own sister, and at her funeral my aunt told me she'd loved me too.

Now is where it gets harder to write, because she's barely been gone a year, and it still hurts to think of it. I remember that day, I came home from school on cloud nine because for the first time in my life I had been asked out on a date. My dad's car was in the driveway though, that was the first sign something was up, he was supposed to be at work. Inside the house my parents told me something really bad had happened. I couldn't have imagined how bad. At first I though that my dad had been laid off, or worse my little brother was hurt. They went into a speech about how much they loved me and how nothing was worth taking your own life then and I knew it was something else. I was shell shocked when I heard what had happened. Why had she done it? Because of some stupid boy. I didn't know what to do. My good mood had been shattered so fast and I was shaking so badly.

The first thing I could do was call my friend. Tell her what had happened, I needed someone to talk to. As soon as my brother got home I got off the phone though. He started to cry immediately, and by this point I still hadn't shed a tear. Various relatives called throughout the day, specifically checking up on me, who had been so close to her. It wasn't until that night, when I was trying to sleep that I finally cried. I bawled my eyes out silently until my head hurt, until I felt sick, until I just couldn’t be awake any longer. It had to have been at least an hour.

I went to school the next day. I only have a couple close friends and didn't see either until half way through the day. My stomach was in knots, and I couldn’t think, when I was left to my own thoughts. Of course the friend I had called had told my other about what had happened, and then they warned the boy who had asked me out, not telling him anything specific just that something had happened. I had never been more glad for my friends then I was that day, they lifted my mood higher then I thought it could go given the situation.

At the funeral I cried again. As I saw her in the casket, wearing the same outfit she had been just weeks before the last time I'd seen him at our grandparents 50th wedding anniversary. Those were the last photos of her too, the four of us had been fooling around with my camera, that was the last time I'd seen her too. I regret now not having any pictures of us when were older. There's several of us when we were kids, I never felt more honored then when I saw a picture of us in the slide show put together by the funeral home. Of all the pictures they had and the few they could choose my aunt and uncle had picked one of me and her. In return I used my amateur video editing skills to put together a longer video of pictures, set to some of the songs she liked. Crazy Train will always remind me of her, as will Welcome to the Jungle, and personally So Long by Sum 41, that was my choice song for the project, the piece of me I put into it.

I miss her all the time. Nothing has been the same since. I broke down and cried the day after the one year mark. Nothing is worth taking your own life. I don't know too many details about her death, I didn't and still don't want to. I just want to remember her as she always was. My friend, my cousin, and the only sister I ever had.

FIN

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