The Ultimate Memory

It was an assignment but I liked my story.

I looked at my best friend and smiled, “Mary, what do you want to do with your life when we get out of this place?”

            “I’m not sure Ivy. I think I want to fall in love and be happy. I don’t really care where I end up as long as I feel complete by the time I die.” She giggled softly and blushed. I couldn’t help but to notice how pale her cheeks truly are until I saw the blush on her face. She looked beautiful, just as she always has since the day we met. I never told her that I liked girls instead of boys. I never asked her if she liked boys but I just decided to assume she did like boys. She looked at me odd and sat down next to me.

            “Ivy, are you alright?” Mary asked worried. I nodded and smiled, feeling tired all of a sudden, I laid down. Mary laid down next to me so close that it would have been easy for us to cuddle. I blushed and looked away, ashamed of my thoughts.

            “Ivy? Hello?” Mary shouted. I jolted and looked at her.

            “Huh? Oh, sorry. Just a little lost in thought. I’ll be fine” I replied bemused. I got up and then walked across the street to the park. It was dark and it was that perfect autumn feel; the edgy feeling that glides through the air like the sweet scent that goes through the wind during spring. Mary followed me to the park and we sat down on our favorite bench. It was cut up, beat up, and ready to fall apart. It was the perfect bench for the perfect friends. We liked to take slight risks like this one. Any second this bench could collapse underneath us but we didn’t care. This bench represented us, edgy, broken, bashed and ready to roll. We liked taking weird risks but never in a way has that put our lives at risk. When she hung upside down on the monkey bars, I laughed as she made a funny face at me that seemed to resemble a monkey. We played at that park until the break of dawn with no thoughts of time or consequences.

            “Mary, do you think that life will tear us apart as we get older?” I asked. She waited a minute or two and then smiled and shook her head no. That was good enough for me, no separation, no cares in the world, no problem. I had been contemplating telling my best friend I found her attractive but quickly decided against it due to me wanting to keep things simple and carefree. Adding that observation would turn things awkward and I knew we would grow apart.

            “Do you remember the day we met?” Mary asked me looking deep in thought.

            “Of course. How could I forget? We met at school and we instantly became friends” I said quickly. I was trying to be so simple about it that I was ignoring the first time I had actually seen Mary. She was in the window of her new house. She looked like a devil dressed angel. She was wearing a tight, black dress with purple and black, striped tights. I couldn’t see her shoes through the window but looking back at it now, I’m pretty sure she was wearing her combat boots. It was rare to not see her in her combat boots; even in summer she wore them, even when they made her feet smell terrible.

            “No, I mean the first time you ever saw me, through my window when I moved into town.” She said shyly. I blushed and looked away but nodded.

            “Yes, I remember that day very well.” I replied, slightly embarrassed.

            “What did you think of me?” Mary asked, looking away from me. My hands were sweating and my heart was racing. I had a feeling nothing good could stay uncomplicated and this was proof that I was right. I sighed and decided to tell her what I had needed to tell her for years now. Then a cold breeze blew by and I motioned for her to follow me to my house. I crossed the street first and heard a big truck go by. One minute I looked to my right and there were headlights in my face and the next minute I was on the ground and I saw a trail of red liquid following the truck. The truck stopped and my best friend was nowhere to be found. I froze where I was and began to cry. I hoped and wished for anything that would turn back time but no such miracle came. The police came and told me what I already knew. The funeral was sad and her mother seemed to blame me for Mary’s death. Was it my fault? If I had been more careful, I would have been looking where I was going and Mary wouldn’t have saved me. Yes, this is my fault. This thought continued through my brain for the following week. The thoughts were maddening and the looks from others were crucifying. There was no more fighting this blame anymore. I had nightmares and I kept hearing Mary’s sweet, angelic voice calling my name. I had a knife that Mary had given me after I had gotten attacked before and I knew exactly what to use it for. On the one month mark of Mary’s death I positioned the knife just right and then simply let gravity take its place.