Beneath the Surface

A Trip To Boston

A year has passed since Natalie's death, but the weight of grief remains heavy on my shoulders. My parents, concerned for my well-being, suggest therapy to help me cope with the trauma of witnessing my best friend's tragic demise. Opening up about Natalie's loss, however, is something I fiercely resist. The therapy sessions feel like a relentless assault on my emotions, dredging up painful memories that I desperately want to keep buried.

One evening, as I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, I overhear my parents discussing their worries in hushed tones.

"I miss our chatterbox," Mom sighs, her voice tinged with sorrow. "I want to hear about her dreams, her plans for the future."

"I know, my love, but she's still healing," Dad reassures her, his words laced with concern.

Their conversation resonates within me, stirring something deep inside. It's in that moment that I realize I need to rebuild myself—not just for their sake, but for my own future. It won't be easy, but I vow to take one tentative step at a time toward normalcy, even if it means concealing the depth of my pain.

The next morning, I muster all my strength to greet my parents at the breakfast table with a fragile smile. The surprise on their faces mirrors the magnitude of that small gesture.

"Um, good morning, sweetie," Mom replies, a hint of hope flickering in her eyes as she grabs a plate to serve me.

"Good morning, my love," Dad adds, his voice laced with cautious optimism.

I join them for breakfast, a palpable sense of strangeness pervades the atmosphere; the shows on TV are relentless reminders of moments shared with Natalie.

An unexpected knock at the door disrupts our meal, and I find myself face-to-face with Nathan, Natalie's brother. His presence brings a flood of emotions to the surface, threatening to shatter my carefully crafted facade.

"Hey, Nathan, come in, please," I say, attempting to steady my trembling voice.

"No, thanks, I'm not staying," he says gently. "I came to drop off this box of Natalie's belongings. I thought you'd like to have them."

My eyes well up with tears at the mention of Natalie, and the sight of her possessions makes my heart ache with a renewed sense of loss.

"Thank you," I manage to whisper, accepting the box with shaking hands.

I quickly retreat to the solitude of my room, closing the door behind me as tears begin to stream down my face. Sitting down on the floor, I allow my grief to consume me, sobbing into the sleeves of my sweater.

Mom and Daisy worry that seeing Natalie's belongings will send me spiraling back into isolation, but for now, I can't face the contents of the box. I tuck it away in my closet, hoping to delay the inevitable flood of memories that await me. The rest of the afternoon is spent curled up in bed, seeking solace in the shadows as I struggle to piece together the fragments of my shattered world.

Earlier in the evening my parents knock on my bedroom door and enter with hesitant smiles.

"Sam, honey, can we come in?" Mom asks, her voice filled with concern.

"The door's open," I reply, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

"Are you okay, my love?" she inquires, stepping closer.

"Yes, I am," I answer, trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions churning within me.

"Honey, your mom and I were talking, and we think you should consider attending university now. We reapplied for you at Boston University, and you've been accepted again," Dad explains.

"Though we want you to know that if you still need more time, we won't force you," Mom adds, her tone gentle.

"Like your mom said, it's all up to you," Dad affirms, their united support evident in their words.

I ponder the idea of attending university without Natalie, my heart aching at the thought. The weight of the decision bears down on me as I consider whether I'm truly ready. After a moment of silence, I take a deep breath and muster the courage to say, "Okay... I'll go."

My parents' faces brighten as they envelop me in a warm embrace, their forehead kisses a reminder of their love and pride. Despite my uncertainty about being prepared for university, their joy provides solace, a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

"Classes start next Monday. When do you want to leave?" Mom asks, her voice tinged with excitement.

"Next week?" I question, surprised.

"Is it too early? We can ask for a little more time," Dad offers, his concern evident.

"No, I just didn't expect it to be this soon," I say, my gaze lowering, the realization of how rapidly everything is changing sinking in.

"So... how about the day after tomorrow?" Mom suggests cautiously. "That way you can have more time to settle in."

"Okay, then," I agree, my heart pounding in my chest.

"So, is it a yes?" they both ask, hope in their voices.

"Yes," I confirm, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Their excitement is contagious, yet my thoughts remain fixed on Natalie, imagining how different it will be to embark on this journey without her by my side. My parents busy themselves with preparations, their enthusiasm a comforting counterpoint to my inner turmoil.

In the following days, I find solace in tidying up my room and organizing my belongings. As I come across the box Nathan brought, I hesitate, my hands trembling with emotion.

"Should I take this with me?" I wonder aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.

Remembering my goal to keep Natalie's memory alive, I resolve to bring everything I have of hers, keeping them close yet unopened. This box, a tangible connection to the dreams we once shared, will serve as a reminder of the promise I made to her, and to myself.

"Sam, we're back!" Mom calls from downstairs, her voice brimming with anticipation.

I join them in the living room, where Mom has laid out a vast array of items, each one a testament to her love and dedication.

"Here, your dad and I decided to get you your own credit card," she says, handing it to me.

"Thank you," I reply, my voice catching in my throat.

"Let's get packing, as your flight is early in the morning," she continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Together, we carefully select and organize my belongings, the box of Natalie's items receiving a place of honor among them. Each passing moment brings the reality of my departure closer, a heavy mix of emotions washing over me as I seal the suitcases shut.