Minnesota Goodbyes

Entry #31

"Hey, M." Lacy walks into our room, holding a small box with a gold ribbon on it. I'd been jotting down a few things but stopped when she came in. (Once, she'd asked me what I was writing. "Reminders." She'd dropped it after that.)

"Sam and Jay left these earlier." She tilts the box, so I can see the top. My name is in Jay's scrawl and a Sam original of King Kong flutters under the bow. "Jay asked what kind you'd like best. He was going to get ones with caramel, but I told him you'd like mint better."

I smile, a fragile thing. "Thanks."

"I was thinking we could have a girls' night. Me, you—" she brandishes the chocolates "—these."

I can feel the smile fall. It's not like I wanted her to see it, but it happened so quickly. My stomach plunges as guilt eats away at it like acid. When I speak again, it surprises me how distant my voice sounds. Like it's echoing off the back wall of a canyon. "okay." So small.

I didn't cry. I sort of felt like crying, an achy hollowness in my chest, everything crumbling inward, but I didn't. Didn't even tear up, and I felt like doing that too.

Lacy leads the way to our futon, shuffling papers and a stack of textbooks out of the way. She throws a quilt around our shoulders and grins conspiratorially as she hands me the first chocolate. With the blanket around us and just sitting together, the past almost smothers me. I start tearing up then. The taste of mint and Lacy beside me on the futon and Sam's cartoon King Kong staring up at me and the past tapping me on the shoulder— the dam just broke.

But I blink away my tears and smile thinly.

Lacy draws her legs up, and crosses them under her. Patting her lap and batting her eyes, she summons me, and I lay my head against her legs. Staring up at the ceiling isn't as bad as it had been not so long ago.

"We're okay, M." Lacy smooths my hair, running her fingers through it.

I nod, which feels weird when I'm leaned up against her. "we're okay." My clenched jaw hurts from forcing the words out from behind my teeth. "we're okay, lacy."

Silence sits between us, an uninvited guest.

"Did I tell you what was going on in my Drama class this week?"

I don't remember the story exactly, and it's hers, anyway. Maybe you'd think it sounds like babbling, or small, or meaningless. But it wasn't. It was comfort, I guess. Not pity this time around. Like finally the fog lifted just enough that I could see her, and she could see me.

I guess this is just something I need to keep for me. (A match struck, my hand cupped around it, shielding the flame from the wind. That's what this is.)

This is kind of sad to read. I don't mean it to be. This was a good night. I don't know if that means happy, but it was good. I just... well, I'm not even holding out for happiness these days. Just some sense of normalcy. Just to have the fog lift and my mind be clear and worry about normal things, like homework, and if Lacy will get the part she wants, and what my plans are for Friday night.

Did things used to be that simple?

Maybe that's what I'm looking for: simplicity.