Chevelle's Story

chapter 22

Chevelle had never been great at goodbyes.

Growing up where she had around the people she had, goodbyes were rare. People died in the towns they were born in. Lived in the same pink brick houses for generations. Where Chevelle was from, a friend was a friend for life, and a partner a partner for life.

When her family had left Haiti, Chevelle's best friends, Stéphanie, Beatrice, and Roseline, had thrown her a going away party. They threw it at Beatrice's house while her parents were away on holiday and they invited almost everyone in their class. More people than anticipated had shown up for the party, and Beatrice had been worried that someone would hurt themselves or damage the house, but nobody did. It wasn't wild or raging like parties usually are once they cross the threshold of 50 people; this party was calm. It was fun, but it was peaceful. Everyone seemed genuinely sad that Chevelle would be leaving the country. They had all known each other since they were babies, so it felt like losing family—even to the people who didn't particularly like her.

They had danced, drank, eaten, and played games until the sun went down and came back up, and when people finally went home, it wasn't teary; it was hopeful. They were sure they would see Chevelle again.

Things didn't become teary until it was time for Chevelle to say goodbye to Stéphanie, Beatrice, and Roseline. They cried and cried for hours. They spoke of how they would become rich one day soon and move to America with Chevelle. How they would live together in Los Angeles in a penthouse suite, entertaining sexy boys from morning till night.

When Chevelle thought back to that day, it felt like it had been a completely different person making those promises. Her years in the US had changed her beyond what even she could comprehend. She wondered, if she went back now, would her friends even recognize her? Was she too Americanized to still consider Haiti her home? She missed it to the very core of her being, but she couldn't deny the part of her that feared she no longer belonged there. The part of her that wondered if her people still felt her absence.

She and her friends had kept in touch for a while. It had been easy the first two years, maybe even the third year, but as more time passed—as people's lives moved forward—it became harder to keep looking back. Humans were not built to carry on long-distance relationships. The only time it proved worth it, was when people were maintaining a connection with someone they would one day see again. Someone they would once again hold in their arms.

As the prospect of Chevelle's return became less and less likely, the work of keeping up with her friends became more and more of a chore. She still loved them dearly, and she knew that they loved her too, but it became this unspoken understanding that maybe their love was better from afar. More appreciated when it didn't feel like so much of a burden.

They still talked every now and then, but it wasn't nearly as often, and it wasn't the same. Big things happened in their lives, and they only told each other about it after the fact. In fact, Chevelle hadn't even told any of them about her suicide attempt. And why would she? What could they do from all the way over there when all she really needed was someone beside her?

It was strange to wake up from a multiple-week coma and realize that nobody from back home even knew something was wrong. That they talked so infrequently that not hearing from Chevelle for a few weeks hadn't worried anyone. It made Chevelle feel like maybe it had been a mistake for her to survive the coma. Nobody from back home had missed her, and everybody here seemed to want her gone.

She wished she had died, but she was too scared to try again because she had an eerie feeling that she would not fail a second time.

Chevelle had begun to reach out more after that. Even if it felt a little bit like a chore, it was worth it to know that her network of support back home had not completely dried up. That if she chose to go back, there would be people there, waiting for her.