Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I saved all of her text messages. All fifty two of them. That’s how many days Alex lived in the story of my life. After I managed to get through her funeral, I went and looked back at them all. I must’ve read through them a hundred times. And on about the sixty seventh time, I finally understood. It all hit me harder than anything I’ve ever realized. The reason she always asked me if I was okay was because when she was struggling at the lowest, darkest point in her life, no one had ever asked if she was okay. And when I recognized that, my heart broke for her. Without a doubt she would’ve made it on Broadway.

Now, they consist of my only reminder of her. And it’s a shame that I took each and every one of them for granted. I couldn’t help but feel at fault for her death. Hell, when the world was crashing down on her beautiful soul, she still valued my feelings over her own. I hated her for leaving. But I hated myself more for not showing her a reason to stay. And as she selfishly abandoned this world, I descended into a psychotic state of depression so fierce that the devil himself couldn’t attribute to his own creation.

I believed in the deep corners of my heart that I could’ve saved her if I had just tried. Considered her feelings for just a moment. But no, my own apathetic mind selfishly deprived her of her valuable life. She deserved better than me.

And as I stand here before her grave, I know I’m not worthy of walking on her sacred ground. I will never be able to give her back the gift of life that I thoughtlessly stripped from her. I had let her down. And now there’s nothing left to do but stare at the mess I made.

“Hi,” I whispered, wishing I had bought a bouquet of roses to lean against her headstone. She told me once how they were her favorite, but I didn’t ask why. Now, I wish I had. My teeth started chattering despite the sun’s heat beaming down on my skin. “I know you’re probably not happy with me, and I don’t expect you to be.” I took a deep breath, trying to organize the thoughts in my head. “I have something for you,” I said softly, digging through my purse and retrieving the letter I had written for her.

I wrote it shortly after her death, but I never had the audacity to bring it here. For years, I carried the envelope around wherever I would go. Hoping one day, I’d find the courage to bring it here. It contained the letter and a picture of her I cut out of my high school yearbook. Slowly, I bent down and placed the letter underneath a bouquet of flowers already on the ground. Someone must have visited her recently.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you, Alex,” I whispered, my voice beginning to choke up. I couldn’t control the tears forming in the back of my eyes. I traced the outline of the rose tattooed on my left shoulder. “I got this tattoo for you. To always have a piece of you with me. Protecting me,” I added under my breath. I doubted that she would even bother to protect a worthless soul like me, but I still hoped for it. I didn’t know what else to say. Honestly, nothing I would say could change the fact that she was gone, and I was to blame. Even though Noah had spent months telling me that I couldn’t possibly have saved her, I believed otherwise. Maybe I was just naïve like my father had been.       

All I know now is that I have failed her. Someone who I had never even given a chance. And despite over two years passing since her tragic death, her memory still haunts me. The nightmares awake me in the middle of the night, and I can’t combat the visions engraved in my mind. It makes me sick knowing she believed that the only friend she had was the blade that slashed her delicate skin. Knowing that she believed her only way out was suicide. She didn’t deserve the aching mind that she had, and I only made things worse by ignoring her as she reached out for someone to alleviate the never ending distress in her head. “My dear Alex,” I murmured, my voice barely audible, “I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me the most. I’m sorry for letting your unhappiness slip my mind.” Tears began to roll down my face as I shut my eyes. Even though she wasn’t here, I still didn’t want to cry in front of her. “I never got the chance to tell you how much you changed me.” Dizzy and weak, I fell to my knees. My bones were shaking and goosebumps covered my shivering body. Nonstop tears flooded from my eyes, forcefully like a waterfall, and I was losing all sense of feeling in my limbs. I felt a faint tap on my shoulder and spun my head around finding nothing but death surrounding me. I leaned my back against Alex’s headstone, sobbing. “You were loved Alex, and I wish you knew.”

For too long, I sat leaning against her grave, watching the sun drift through the sky and eventually set in the west. I watched the moon appear in the sky and the stars emerge from their hiding positions. Just a girl in a graveyard, I sat motionless. Silent. A young sparrow swooped down from the sky and landed her little legs on the headstone in front of me. I watched her glide through the sky, somersault in the air and always find her way back to that headstone. When she sang, her voice crooned sweet melodies that allowed my aching mind to rest. I wondered where the sparrow’s mother was. And that’s when it dawned on me. The sparrow was Alex. I know it sounds foolish, but I’m not insane. I had heard her hum those tunes before. I recognized them, and I knew it was her. Deep in my soul, I felt her presence, and for the first time in years I felt how still the world could be. My perfect little sparrow chirped and flew off once again into the darkness. Maybe He does exist.

…

The walk back was long. Two and a half miles to be exact. I considered calling Caleb, but I couldn’t explain to him why I was in a graveyard at one o’clock in the morning. My feet ached and my calves were on fire by the time I sauntered up the driveway and climbed the three steps to his porch. Yet, in retrospect, none of that matters when I think about the miracle that just happened to me. But, unfortunately, the more I think about it, the more I realize no one will believe me if I told them. I bet Caleb’s father wouldn’t even believe me, and he preached that bullshit every day of his life. So I decided to keep quiet about the sparrow.

Fidgeting with my keys, I found the silver one and placed it carefully in the keyhole. Slowly turning the key and unlocking the door, I stepped inside and shut the door gracefully behind me. I was cautious not to wake Caleb’s parents. I wondered if they even knew I was gone or if they thought I was hibernating in the guest room again. Each stair creaked as I gently creeped through the house and up into my room, hoping no one could hear me. When I reached the top step, I noticed the light shining under the door of Caleb’s room. Why was he still awake? I wondered. But now was not the time to wonder such trivial thoughts. I sneaked past his bedroom and into the guestroom, shutting the door tenderly behind me. Finally, I was at peace.

Flicking on the light switch, I threw my purse onto the bed. It landed with a slight thud, as did I as I laid down over the unmade sheets. Exhaustion overtook my body, and I fell asleep instantaneously to the melody of the sparrow playing on repeat in my mind.

                                 …

When I awoke next, it was afternoon. I had somehow managed to sleep through the entire morning. And as soon as the drowsiness wore off, I was sent back into reality, and the networks in my brain started shooting messages and thoughts of the previous day. An unbearable pain was settling in my stomach. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten something. Heading down the stairs and through the hall towards the kitchen, I admired the photos hanging on the walls. Various sizes of picture frames were spread throughout the hall. Caleb’s family looked like a poster family. I envied him.

Caleb was sitting at the kitchen table, vigorously writing in a notebook with a book open next to him. Biology I think it was. He told me that he wanted to go to med school after graduating from college. He dreamed of being a doctor and saving lives one day, or so he said. I don’t think that’s what he really wants though. I think that’s just something to please his parents. And that’s a sad way to live. Disappointing your parents is one of the truest forms of independence.  

“Good morning,” I stated sarcastically, walking into the kitchen, grabbing a pan from the cupboard and placing it on the stove.

I had hoped he would correct me and say “good afternoon,” like he used to, but he simply replied with “Morning,” without even looking up from his book. Why wouldn’t he look at me? I wondered. Opening the fridge, I snatched two eggs from the carton and cracked them into the pan, careful not to get any remnants of the shell in my breakfast. I scrambled them and cranked up the stove, waiting impatiently for my eggs to cook.

“Have a big test coming up?” I asked, watching Caleb slavishly write line after line. He nodded, refusing to miss a beat. I glanced at his notes from my position by the stove. They were outlined impeccably and his script was flawless. To him, it was just terms and definitions, examples and scribbled words, but to me, it was art. Beautifully constructed with every line and curve, and I loved watching his pen glide across the paper, creating a bubbly masterpiece.

“Would you like some eggs?” I asked, trying to generate some form of conversation.

Again he didn’t look up, but he responded with a polite “No thanks,” and continued studying the infinite amount of useless words in his book. This was the most we had talked in the past couple of weeks. I didn’t understand why he had been ignoring me like this. I hadn’t done anything wrong. How could he just forget about the six months we spent together? Did he ever care about me at all? I couldn’t take this anymore and I had to know.

“Why did you leave me?” I asked desperately. He didn’t look up, but his pen stopped writing. He sat there staring at his paper, probably trying to come up with an acceptable excuse. Nothing but the truth could explain why he had abandoned me the way he did, and he knew that. His cheeks became flushed, and the more time that passed, the better his answer needed to be. Nothing was said for a long time, and I regretted asking the question.

“Charlie, I couldn’t"”

At that exact moment, his mother walked in the front door, struggling to carry all of the grocery bags in her hands. Her interruption had relieved the awkwardness from the situation, but it did not answer what I needed to know.

“Here, let me help you,” I said, grabbing a few bags from her hand.

“Thank you, Charlie,” she said cheerfully. “Oh my, it is absolutely gorgeous outside. You two kids should be out enjoying the last few days of your summer before college.” I smiled to satisfy her, and placed the groceries on the kitchen counter. I had almost forgotten my eggs, and resumed stirring and scrambling them to perfection. “How did you sleep Charlotte?” asked Mrs. Kepner in a rather concerning voice. Had she known I was out so late?

“Pretty well, thank you,” I responded turning off the stove and placing my breakfast onto a plate. As she placed the groceries in the pantry, she kept looking over at me. She never said so, but I knew she always wondered how I had been doing since my grandmother had passed away. I was miserable, but I’d never let Caleb’s family see that. I’m not so good at sharing my emotions.

When I had successfully completed the presentation of my breakfast, I sat down at the table across from Caleb. Without a word, he shut his book and collected his belongings.

“Caleb, where are you going?” asked his mother curiously.

“I’m going to study in my room,” he responded promptly, without even the slightest glimpse up from his books. “I’ll be able to focus better there.”

“Are you sure, honey?” she asked again. I’m not sure why, but his mother insisted that he stay here with the rest of the family. He looked at her, irritated. Loudly sighing, he shook his head at her and carried his books up the stairs to his room. Fourteen steps, I counted.

“I wonder what’s gotten into him!” she exclaimed, emptying the final grocery bag.

“I wish I knew,” I muttered under my breath.

Reviews

[Christopher Miller]

The event with the sparrow adds an interesting twist. I'm now wondering if she's unconsciously projecting her dead friend into a bird to ease her guilt, or if there is something supernatural at play that will continue to develop as the story progresses, or if this will be the only time such a thing is mentioned (which would also be satisfactory, it's already a nice image on its own). I'm reminded of Richard Adam's 'The Girl in a Swing'. I read it without knowing a single thing about it, and was amazed at how it crept from contemporary romance into something else entirely.
"I smiled to satisfy her" is just one on many examples of the details I complimented you on before. If I hadn't read multiple comments of yours that this is in fact fiction, my natural assumption would be that this is a true story, or at least very closely parallel to one.
Learning that Caleb and Charlie had been in a relationship that he broke off was an interesting development, I hope she presses the issue of what he was going to say fairly soon. I wonder if his frantic studying is a defense against feeling his own emotions.

[Sarah]

Thank you for the review! I actually had implemented the bird as a supernatural thing but I really like your take on it, that it could be just her imagination to ease her guilt. Something I hadn't thought about before.

[Rebecca]

the scene with Caleb could be rewritten more poetically. The graveyard scene made me sad, Alex as a bird shapeshifting. The first two chapters were way better than this one.

[Lorry]

As Charlotte read those texts, she realised that it had been a cry for help all along. How many of us miss those pleas? So sad. Guilt is an awful burden for anyone to carry, I hope Charlotte doesn't have to carry it alone.
Images of Charlotte, sitting against the headstone, seeing the sparrow fly so freely, then realise that maybe our understanding of the world isn't all we imagined it to be. Nice touch, didn't see that coming at all, but I like where it's going.
Charlotte and Caleb, living together, though apart, seems to be a theme for Charlotte. It is the sign of a good story, with good characters, that you begin to hope that there will be hope for the character, that she will find herself and her place in life, but sadly, just like in life, the story plays out how it is intended to play. Great stuff so far...Looking forward to the next :)

[Sarah]

Thank you for the review. Hope you enjoy the next few chapters!

[Lorry]

You know I will :)

[Mifa]

Much better chapter. I enjoyed the dialogue. If you noticed, it was possible to get to know more about the characters through the way they interacted with each other. I think you're beginning to get into your element with this.

Now I'm starting to get hooked onto the story and you can be sure I'd be going to the next chapter and the next after this. Good one Sarah. Good one.

[Sarah]

Thank you for the kind words. I do agree that at this stage in the writing process, I began to show rather than tell. I had finished most of the background information and could actually begin to develop the story surrounding an actual plot.

[Mifa]

You're most welcome.