Five Pink Envelopes: A Short Story

Five Pink Envelopes

I never liked hospitals. Maybe there was something about the smell of the disinfectant, or the constant beeping of heart monitors. Or, call me a pessimist, but maybe it was the thought that people came here to die. Whatever it was, hospitals made me feel sick, a sort of dizzying, trembling sick. And that’s exactly how I felt right now, sitting in Cloverfield General Hospital’s waiting room, staring at the pink envelope in my shaking hands.

            I couldn’t stop thinking about Kara. I should have known. I should have paid more attention. I could have stopped this. This was my fault. My mind hadn’t stopped racing since the moment I got the phone call at two am.

            “Hello?” I’d answered it in a sleep-coated groggy voice.

            “M-Marine,” a voice I’d recognize anywhere in the world sobbed. I instantly got out of bed and raced down the stairs. If Lorraine was calling me crying, this wasn’t good.

            “K-Kara,” she sobbed, “My baby.” Lorraine was like my second mother, my best friend, Kara’s mom. I slipped on some shoes and grabbed my car keys.

            “Lorraine, what happened?” my voice cracked as I spoke, on the verge of tears.

            “She…She couldn’t t-take it anymore,” she sobbed, “I-I found her in her r-room, she had pills, she’s at the hospital.”

            “Is she alive?” my voice shook, silent tears running down my face.

            “We don’t know yet,” she cried.

            “I’m on my way,” I said and hung up. I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled out a note to my parents in case they woke up to find me gone. I raced out the door and started my car.

            The drive to the hospital was a blur. It wasn’t a very long ride, as Cloverfield isn’t a big town, but it felt like eternity. I don’t remember crying, but my tear-stained face and raw throat said otherwise.

            I picked at the pink envelope in my hands. It was so Kara, I guess, to have written the five of us notes, all on her personal stationery, our names written on the front in her curly handwriting. I just wished I knew what she was thinking, why she chose the five of us.

            The five of us had nothing in common, aside from the fact that we attended the same school, but each of us had something that tied us to Kara. I would consider Kara my best friend, the person who knew everything about me, and I thought I knew everything about her. I guess I was wrong, because I had no idea she was friends with any of these people.

            Rebel (which probably wasn’t her real name, but no one knew her real one) sat in her chair, her face also tear stained, sketching out a picture on the back of the pink envelope Lorraine had given her. Rebel was known around the school for her art. Teachers hung it all over the school and rumor has it that she’s gotten a full ride to a well-recognized art school.

            Flint Andrews sat to my right, playing with a lighter, flicking it on and off, and holding his pink envelope dangerously close to the flame. He was wearing his signature leather jacket and bedhead hair. I didn’t know much about him, but I suppose no one did, and that’s what made him the school’s mysterious bad boy.

            Ava Baker looked pristine, as always, aside from the mascara streaking her face from crying. Her blonde hair was straightened to perfection and she wore a pastel pink dress. It looked as if she’d spent hours getting ready, and I’d expect nothing less of the most popular girl in school. She sat, her legs crossed, filling her nails down to the bits.

            Sullivan “Sully” was the worst of us five. He sat, sobbing audibly the entire time, which, to my count was going on two hours. There is nothing more heartbreaking than hearing your school’s star quarterback bawling for two straight hours. I didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that he was one of the cool jocks that were given a nickname based on their last name.

            The silence was unbearable, but what could we say? My thoughts were scattered, incoherent even to me. I couldn’t help but think what if…what if she didn’t make it. A chill went down my spine at the very thought of going through life without my best friend. Flint shrugged out of his leather jacket beside me and placed it on my shoulders. He must have thought I was just cold.

            “She was just always so happy,” Flint muttered.

            “I know,” Ava laughed out a sob, “I was always so jealous, I thought I was missing out on some big joke.”

            “She was just hilarious,” I added.

            “You should have seen her when she was painting. It looked like she was born to be there with her paint and easel,” Rebel said, continuing to draw. This stuck out to me the most…I’d been best friends with Kara for seven years and I hadn’t even known she liked to paint.

            “I’m in love with her,” Sully mumbled through his tears. No one expected him to say that, or at least I never did, not in a million years. She was dating Sully? I felt like everyone was describing a completely different person than the Kara I knew. The Kara I knew was hilarious, but quiet. She liked to read and had bad anxiety. The Kara I knew had bouts of depression, and had a history of cutting. What I guess I didn’t know is that sometimes scars only scratch the surface of the problem.

            “Should we read them?” Ava held up her pink envelope. No one had the guts to respond. If we read them, it was as if her fate were sealed; her final goodbye. Then there was the thought of never finding out what she’d wanted to say to us, her last words to us.

            “How could she do this to us?” Ava asked, sobbing, “Did she think we didn’t care?”

            “Sometimes everything just piles up and then we snap. I think Kara’s pile was taller than we can ever imagine,” I murmured, “God, this hurts. She was my best friend.” I cried.

            “She was my neighbor. We grew up together,” Flint said, his voice raw.

            “She was the only person who really understood my art,” Rebel muttered.

            “She was my best friend, before I climbed the social ladder with complete disregard for who I stepped on. Why was I so stupid?” Ava said bitterly.

            “I was completely in love with her,” Sully sighed, “Why do we keep using past tense? She’s not dead yet.”

            “We’re just preparing for the worst I guess,” I sighed. The doors leading into the emergency rooms hallway burst open, revealing a stirred Lorraine. My heart pounded in my chest, threatening to break out of my ribcage. The five of us stood up, each of us tied to Kara in ways we couldn’t imagine. Sometimes you can’t really understand how much you influence other people. Sometimes you can see it coming, and other times, you can’t.