With This Heart(50)

“ What were you thinking, going on a trip without letting us know about it? And why is your hair and makeup done like that?” my mom muttered. I knew her questions were rhetorical because she threw me into another body-squeezing hug before I even had time to formulate a response. I let her tug me closer. I was coming down from my drag queen-induced high and the security of my parents’ embrace threatened to break the seal on my tears.

My mom was still hugging me when she whispered into my ear, “Honey, I’m so sorry.” My hands, which a moment before were gently resting on her back, grasped her shirt for dear life. My fingernails dug into the thin cotton fabric. I squeezed my eyes shut, but tears still found their way down my cheeks. Hearing her say it out loud was more than I’d prepared myself for on the cab ride over. Caroline’s emaciated face melted into my thoughts. Her sunken cheeks, her sad, dark eyes. Our last conversation on the phone was too short. Had I even told her I loved her? Did she know that I would have never survived treatment without her?

She was gone.

I melted into my mom’s arms and let her hold my weight as I surrendered to the sadness. I felt all of it. I didn’t shirk away from the absolute, all-encompassing pain that threatened to bring me to my knees. I’d experienced death and dying. Some could argue that because I knew Caroline was going to pass away, that my grieving process would have been different, but it was a different kind of grief that I felt.

I was enraged for Caroline’s sake. Yes, I was sad that my best friend would no longer be my best friend and that I had a gaping hole in my life, in my heart. But I was just so livid at the world for ripping Caroline’s life out of her hands. She was slow to anger, sweet and kind in every instance. If anyone deserved to not have cancer, it was Caroline. So I was left with this pit in my stomach that shattering a thousand urns would never fix. I was too young to be so cynical, but there was no way to avoid it when you learned that being good all year didn’t mean Santa Claus left you toys; it meant that no matter how hard you fought, the cells in your body were going to do anything they wanted. We were helpless to the mechanisms that made us humans. They controlled destiny, not us.

“ When did she pass away?” I asked once I thought I could speak without a sob breaking through.

“ Late last night,” my mom answered.

I breathed in silent sobs, inhaling whiffs of my mother’s perfume.

“ Her funeral is on Thursday,” my mom offered.

Two days. Two days to think of how I would commemorate Caroline’s life in a eulogy.

…



I fell asleep sobbing in my old room while my mom tried to console me. I’d wanted her to stay with me last night, and when I woke up, she was still by my side, sleeping peacefully on her back. I reached over to kiss her cheek before gathering all of my stuff and sneaking out of the room. The stairs creaked as I made my way down, but my dad must have still been sleeping as well because no one greeted me at the bottom. I slipped my shoes on and sent my parents a text about heading back to my apartment so they’d know where I was when they woke up.

My car was still sitting in the lot outside of the club from last night, so I took a deep breath and started my trek to get it back. I decided to take a cab most of the way, but when we were close to the street I had the driver drop my off so that I could walk the last mile. It was a pretty morning in Dallas. The summer sun had just barely risen, so it wasn’t scorching hot yet. I desperately needed a change of clothes and a shower. The awkward glances from fellow pedestrians told me how crazy I probably looked with my slept on curls and make-up.

In an effort to avoid any more judging stares, I pulled my phone out of my purse and checked the missed text I’d spied earlier. It was from Beck, sent right after midnight.



Beck : I’m really sorry about Caroline, but don’t give up on humanity just yet.



I didn’t have much longer before I reached my car, but I still hit ‘call’. The phone rang and rang. I walked a city block and he still hadn’t answered. Before I could think of hanging up, the call dropped to voicemail and Beck’s gravelly voice filled my ears.


“ Hey, this is Beck. Leave a message.”

Short and sweet, but it felt good to hear his voice. I didn’t leave a message. Calling him had given me an idea, and when I reached my car and was in the security of my own space, I dialed Caroline’s number.

It rang, filling the silence of my car, and I wondered if maybe her parents would pick up. Did they have her phone? What happened to a person’s phone when they died? Someone had to be charging it.

Then the voicemail clicked on and my heart dropped when I heard her voice.

“ Hi! This is Caroline. I’m sorry I missed your call. Feel free to leave a message.” I sat paralyzed for a second, but then the electronic beep went off and I started to talk to her as if she would pick up any moment.

“ Caroline, it’s Abby,” I broke down, letting my head fall forward onto the steering wheel. “I miss you so much. I can’t believe you’re gone…I broke my urn in the desert when I found out you lied to me. Why’d you lie to me Caroline? Or were you hoping for the best?” I paused as a sobbing hiccup hijacked my vocal cords. “You just left me. I went on a road trip and you didn’t stop me…You should have stopped me! I would have been there in a second. You’re my best friend, what am I supposed to do without you?” I paused and ran my finger along the worn leather. “I have so much to fill you in on…”