If it weren't for her, my bestfriend, pseudo soul sister, I wouldn't have been alive today. It was just another lazy Sunday morning and she had come home to say hi to my mom and have coffee with me.
In the middle of our chatter she asked me what I thought of those who committed suicide, killed themselves. I never looked her in the eye when she asked me questions I didn't like. I told her I thought of them as victims, cowards, that if they could kill themselves they could as well have the strength to live. I do not remember if I called them losers, I might have but I do not remember. She didn't say anything. I expected her to speak in defense of all those committed suicide. But she didn't, she kept quiet and finished the rest of her coffee and her share of cookies in silence.
It wasn't odd for her to stay silent whole day, and it wasn't what kept bothering me after she left. It was twenty minutes past six in the evening, she said bye to my mom and thanked her for the yummy lunch, for making her favorite food. I walked her to the gate and suddenly she turns around and gives me a hug. I was caught off-guard, for about ten seconds I was unsure of what to do till I came back to my senses and hugged her. It was the longest hug ever, we've been bestfriends for 18 years, we were 3 years old when our parents introduced us to each other. We have been neighbors, classmates, lab-partners, and what not. But we have never hugged like this. I could barely breathe, I felt her thin arms tightening around me, I thought I could feel her cry though there was no sign of tears. She left. And I couldn't sleep that night, I thought of the hug, replaying it in my head over and over again. She wasn't the over-emotional type, she wasn't fond of hugs and would tease me each time I kiss and hug my parents before leaving home.
Knowing my hatred for Monday mornings mom decided not to wake me up. But I was up and listening to the noises coming out of my room's door. Footsteps, clinking of glasses, spoons and dad talking on phone. I chose to stay in bed for another 2 hours and not shocking the family by showing my sleep-deprived head at 6 in morning. It was eight, and I had brushed and recovering from a sleepy head.
I didn't head straight to the kitchen for my coffee, I was running outside. I ran. Fell twice stumbling on a rock and a discarded toy truck before I finally reached our neighbor's doorstep. Her dad had had two bypass surgery already, but I found him in the hallway, stone-faced. I felt my heart quiver, the veins on my forehead protruded, there was a pain rising in my chest. I steadied myself, found her mom with her head buried in my mom's arms. My mom looked shocked to see me there, her eyes warned me but I had to enter her room. I wanted to make sure she was alright. That she left a letter saying she'll be gone for a few days, she's always fancied running away to a happier place.
She looked better than alright, her face peaceful as though lost in a beautiful dream. I could swear I saw her eyes move just like they do when she has nightmares and I watch her sleep. She isn't gone for a few days, she's gone for forever. I felt my body slump against the dull blue painted walls. I knew I was going to puke if I stare one second longer at the posters on the walls, pillows on her bed, picture frames on the table. It took all my strength to stand and leave the room, I didn't turn around, I didn't tell her goodbye. I hated her. All I wanted to was vomit everything I had in my brain out. Especially everything that would remind me of her.
That day I vomited. They took me to the hospital. Severe dehydration. Same hospital where she was taken for postmortem. I refused to attend her funeral and requested my parents to send me to grandma's. I haven't been to my home after that. While I packed my belongings, they were preparing the final farewell for her, her funeral.
It's been an year. I'm going home today. The smell of vomit, the sight of her mom crying, the dull blue walls and off-white bedsheets and pillows- home.
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