F•R•I•E•N•D•S

T•W•O

Everly

"Death is tired of meeting people just to say goodbye. He decides to keep a soul or two, for companionship."

I could still remember the day I heard those words; it was at my parents' funeral years ago.
The sick bastard meant those words for comfort, instead, they did the exact opposite.

Who the hell in their right mind would tell a child that death took their parents because he wanted some friends?

The sun was at its highest peak in the sky, bathing everyone with warm sun rays. Grandma had waken me early in order to get a head start on the lengthy drive I had to make.
Pawpaw was in the kitchen packing a light lunch comprising of two egg sandwiches, cinnamon apple sauce, and my favorite, egg rolls.

I didn't care that they still 'babied' be from time to time; I was the youngest granddaughter under their roof, and it visibly made them more content. Also, it made them feel useful.

"Thanks Pawpaw," I say kissing him on his wrinkling, pale cheek.
"How am I going to make it without you two?"

"Evie dear, you'll be fine. You wouldn't need a couple of oldies like us," he chuckles freely.

"Pawpaw!" I exclaim in mock horror.

We continue our playful banter as Grandma sluggishly rolls into the tiny space with her walker.
If it were possible, I'd say she looks older, somehow aging ten years between last night and this morning.

"Hey GramGram," I say softly, approaching her like I would a wounded animal.

She had been suffering from a stroke she had last year. Her health never came back after that scare. We still weren't adjusted to this new version of her.

"Hi baby, you ready as yet?" Her frail voice asks.

"Honestly, I'm a bit nervous but I think I'm prepared."

College was no easy feat, especially in our family. We were living comfortably but still nowhere near what we would have liked. My aunts and uncles would get together and help each other in dire times and because of that, we all survived.

They even pot-lucked an impressive amount of money to help pay for my tuition, but when we all learned that I was awarded with a full scholarship, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

My suitcases were already packed and in my miniature box car, awaiting our road trip. We were all reminiscing and laughing over memories when we heard the front door open and close.
Several footsteps later, Emily emerges into the kitchen, a look of disdain permanently etched into her face.
When she sees me, it only deepens.

"You still here?"

She walks over to the fridge and pulls out the orange juice, pouring herself a glass.

"I'll be gone in a few actually," my voice comes out timid.

She drinks the last of the juice and presents me with a failed attempt of a smile.

"Great."

And with that, she retreats into the hall, to her room.
After all these years, I had no idea of why my only sister treats me such a way. I wanted to say it's because of the death of our parents, but she wasn't bitter towards me then.

In fact, we were extremely close, despite the fact that we were three years apart.

"It's okay Evie, she'll miss you. She just has a hard time showing it," my dear grandmother consoles me.

To save time, I simply agree with her, although everything in me wants to protest.

"Well, you best get going dear. Don't wanna waste that daylight," Pawpaw shoos me.

One last long hug later and I'm bravely out the door, timid as I'll ever be, nevertheless putting one trembling foot in front of the other.
My tiny car barely holds my suitcases with me being in the same space but I make it work; just like I do with everything in my life.

Reversing slowly out of the broken concrete driveway, I cast one last longing look at my home, cementing the picture of my grandparents stood in the doorway, waving goodbye into my memory.

A smile breaks out on my lips from the two people who meant the world to me; and then, that same smile vanishes as quick as it came.

Standing in the living room window was Emily, a sour expression staining her face.
And then she retreats.

Shaking the image from my mind, I shift the car into drive and pull off.