A Mix Of Worlds

Together, Forever

October 1, 1983

Perhaps it was the shadow beneath her eyes. Perhaps it was the pale tint to her usually glowing skin, splotches of white bleaching her face into a ghostly pallor. But I knew something was amiss the second I saw Ainsley, silent and unmoving amidst the narrow crowd of students surging through the dank school hallway.

As I drew closer, I noticed lines etched into the corners of her mouth, a slight downward tilt making her seem to age a few years. Before I could say a word, she grabbed my wrist and tugged me through the chaos of the hallways into an empty classroom I knew would soon be filled with students. It was dark, weak rays of early-morning sunlight barely shining into the silent room. A cool draft blew through the mostly-opened door and I shivered.

What is it? I wanted to ask. In the fifteen years I had known Ainsley, I'd never seen more than a frown sully her cheerful mood. I figured it couldn't be anything too bad. After all, the last time she got moody was because I accidentally cut her hair unevenly while trying to give her bangs.

Ainsley fluffed her crimped hair, muttering. I leaned forward, the large hoops in my ears brushing against my neck as I strained to hear her. "Girl, you seriously gotta speak up," I said, raising an eyebrow as I popped a piece of gum in my mouth. "Want one?"

She shook her head and picked at her chipped pink nail polish, the heels of her boots scuffing the floor. She still wouldn't look at me. "Thing is..." she started.

I leaned closer.

"I'm leaving."

It hit me like a slap across my face. Nothing but empty thoughts surfaced and I blinked, smile gone. What?

"Leaving?" I asked. I didn't know what to say, how to react. I crossed my fingers behind my back. "As in, our class?" Even as I tried to convince myself that was the extent of it, I knew I was a pathetic liar.

Ainsley looked down. Until then, she'd been staring determinedly at the faint lines on the chalkboard no student or teacher had bothered to wipe off. They were scars upon the pristine, unblemished chalkboards, and no amount of scrubbing could remove them now.

"Cathy, I'm leaving the country." Though she kept her gaze downcast, I could see a few tears track down her cheeks like angry welts before being wiped away. For a split second, she dared to meet my eyes, and I saw her face was blotchy and red.

Even as I tried to come to terms with what she was saying—what did she mean—I couldn't help but be reminded of the lines on the chalkboard. Permanent. Scarred. To my horror, I felt a single, hot tear spill from my eye and I swiped at it with my hand. I didn't want her to see me cry. I had to be strong for her, and besides, I wasn't a wimp. "Why didn't you tell me?" I felt betrayed. "I thought we told each other everything."

"I wanted to!" She said miserably. "Ma told me like, a week ago we might move to Europe 'cause Dad got a job offer there. But she didn't confirm it until yesterday." She placed a hand on my arm when I flinched. "I'm sorry! I swear I wanted to tell you, but Ma told me not to, and I was kinda hoping it wasn't true."

"I thought money wasn't an issue." It wasn't a question, not really, and for the first time since we'd become best friends, I wondered what else Ainsley might have been keeping from me.

"I thought so too." Ainsley slumped. "Guess Dad lied."

I let that simmer between us for a long moment. "I thought we'd agreed to tell each other everything. Forever, remember?" I asked, still hurt.

"I promise, I didn't keep anything else from you." She took a step forward and wrapped her arms around me. "I'm so sorry," she cried into my shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Mindless chatter and nonsensical noise filled my head as I hugged her back. What when why where who how? How? I had no plans to keep her with me, no plans to help her at all. Suggestions flew through my head, considered and discarded within a moment. She would leave, and she would take all the happiness in my life with her. I couldn't help but feel abandoned.

I clutched Ainsley as the school bell rang and students flooded into the classroom, ready to begin another long day.

"I'm sorry, too," I whispered.

My thoughts would never feel safe again.

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October 1-6, 1983

There were so many things left undone, so many things left unsaid. We would never be able to watch the new Star Wars film together, never again eat ice cream at the park, eyeing cute guys and giggling when one of them made eye contact with us.

So, we condensed all the lost moments into one blissful, beautiful week.

We sat together under the burnished gold trees as leaves fell around us, crowning us in a halo of happiness; we fell asleep under the stars, half-eaten s'mores in hand, skipping school so we had more time. We were immortal and nothing could tear us apart.

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October 7, 1983

"That's the last of them," Mr Thompson, Ainsley's dad, said, slamming the car trunk shut.

As the Thompsons climbed into their car, I grabbed Ainsley and pulled her into a hug. Apart, we were nothing but two girls, trying to find our way in the world. Together, we could conquer anything. It was almost as if we had crafted our identities around each other, slotting our friendship into every aspect of our lives.

"I'll write first," she said. "It'll take a ton of time for the letter to get to you, but hey, at least there's something, right?"

I nodded and we locked our pinky fingers together, foreheads touching. Right hand above the left, index and middle fingers crossed. Our special handshake for Forever.

Dazed, I watched as Ainsley got into the car and turned around to wave at me. I waved back as the car started to roll away. I smiled until my cheeks ached; I smiled until Ainsley's face was nothing but a blur in the early morning light.

As the car vanished from view, it finally hit me. She was gone. She was actually gone.

Dropping my arm, I collapsed on the Thompson's deserted front lawn, eyes searching, breath coming in short pants. Disbelief and contempt flickered through my thoughts. It wasn't fair.

Life isn't always fair, Cathy. You just have to find out why. A voice echoed in my head, a memory of my father surfacing. I had been angry—Ainsley got to own a lemonade stand, but I had to stay home and finish my schoolwork. My father's words did nothing to placate me before. But now, I was starting to understand what he meant.

Life and its sour lemons had taken Ainsley from me, but, years ago, it had also given her to me.

I looked up, chin resting upon my leggings-clad knees. I saw the sparrows chirping mid-flight, the lawn around me still wet with morning dew; I watched the clouds, the sun and the sky, and for the first time, I felt like something good could come out of this. So what if life wasn't fair? We were Cathy and Ainsley. Nothing could divide us.

"Goodbye, Ainsley," I whispered. "Don't forget me."

And if the autumn breeze whistled by with a pitying glance, if it whispered: you are the only constant in your life, it kept its words as nothing more than a gentle susurration across the now vacant yard.