The world around us

Story #4~The Phone Call (Jan 2022)

I recently found a homework assignment for English class five years ago, where I had to continue writing a story following an already given paragraph. I read it through and was shocked that something pubescent little Silver had written was actually kind of good. So, I rewrote the story despite having to study for a test (hope I don't fail lol), added more details to make the plot more coherent and voilà, here we are. Enjoy!

I didn't see the lawn again for a year.

I walked past the chapel when it had happened, when all the police cars were there, but you couldn't get near the place. Someone told me that the funeral was going to be in London, later that week. It was a miracle I even heard, so lost in my misery I was. It was without question that I would go, pay my respects to one of the people I loved so much, but when that day arrived, rather than going and saying my last goodbye to her, I had skipped it. Instead, I decided to visit the local coffee shop, pretended that my whole entire existence hadn't just been uprooted, that everything was fine, most importantly, that I was fine.

Everyone probably just thought that I had decided to spend a free day at the local coffee shop, to spend the first spring day of the year enjoying the warmth. I had hated it, felt the sickly sweet scent of blooming buds to be mocking her and the fact that she couldn't enjoy any of this anymore. Where was the justice of the sun being able to shine so brightly, when my sunshine had been robbed from me forever.

I had just sat there, watched as the birds migrated back from the south, ready for mating season. But my mind was miles away, didn't even register the girl working the till, who came out a few times to check on me.

Back then, when I had sat there until closing time, I didn't even realize that I had been sitting at the same spot for over four hours, until the girl had come to politely kick me out so that she could go home, so lost in the depths of my mind I was. Startled, I had apologized to her profusely, but my thoughts were already floating away again, into the clouds and over the town I once trusted. I didn't trust anyone anymore, least of all myself.

Whether it was guilt or the devastation of a loss that kept me tethered to the iron chair, willing me not to face my loss head-on beyond the shop, I still do not know.

Even now, almost a full year later, at the same coffee shop, at the exact same table, I cannot escape the regret. As my macchiato gets colder by the second, the mug barely touched and the cigarette bud between my fingers ever-shrinking, a vice I had thought I'd fully gotten rid of three years ago, my head is pounding, searching for an answer I know I will never find a solution to. Still, my brain is working over-time, despite the fact that there is a hurricane in it at all times, sweeping around wildly and making everything a muddled mess. Migraine after migraine attacks my head, a result from the sleepless nights fueled by my constant battle of what-ifs and theories that get so wild, they're comparable to those of a rambling, crazed lunatic. I can't even get my brain to shut off for more than two hours at a time, its gears are ever steadily spinning.

I used to have everything in control, knew exactly what I wanted and the means to achieve my goals. Until I got the phone call exactly one year ago.

Unwillingly, my thoughts drift back to her. It was one year ago to the date. Once full year without her. I still see her smile before my eyes every night, when insomnia racks my body, exhausting me beyond relief. Then, just when I start to remember the way we used to laugh about our impromptu recipes, how we used to talk about our most hated teachers until deep into the night, how her hugs felt when I felt like the world was ending, I'd see her grinning lips morph into something hideous, a twisted scream, shouting inaudible obscenities at me in the dark. Even if I can't hear her against the silence of my room, I know that she is begging me for help, then cursing me out when she realizes that I can't help her.