I felt nothing or at least I didn't know how to put words to what I did feel. It almost felt like guilt because I wasn't breaking down like everyone else. Everyone around me had silent tears rolling down their faces. Sitting in the dark and barren auditorium that we all called home, the only sounds were the occasional hiccup or sniffle for air through the tears.
She was really gone. It didn't feel real. It still doesn't, three years later. Her name was Sam, she was part of our self proclaimed "drama family".
It started as a normal day, school went as usual, laughing, joking around. We all found out that night. Sam had died in a single car accident in the early morning while we were all going about our normal, happy lives. Maybe that was why I felt guilty.
I couldn't cry. I tried, but it felt wrong. I didn't know her well, or at all really, but all my friends were wrecks, completely beside themselves. I totally understood, their close friend had died at eighteen years old, far too early for anyone to lose their life.
The one person who this loss hit the hardest was my best friend Josh. He is the most loving, caring, funny person I have ever had the pleasure to have in my life. I could go on forever about all the things he has done for me, how many times he had been the there when no one else was, what he has seen and knows that no one else has, ever. He is my best friend and he was the one in pain this time. He needed me.
Our school administrators were very understanding about our situation. We didn't have to attend our classes if we didn't feel up to it, just go for attendance. Everyone from our group in school that day ended up in our auditorium. It became our unofficial meeting place all week long. We all felt safe there, like if we all knew where the others were inside that auditorium then we were all out of harms way.
Josh hadn't come to school that first day and no one had heard from him despite most of us trying to reach him. I had called him knowing I would only be one of many voicemails, but I had to hear his voice, make sure he was okay, even though none of us were really okay.
I had stepped out of the auditorium to call Josh because I was really hoping he would answer if he saw my name, but on some level I knew he wouldn't.
"Hey Josh, its me, Emily... I know you probably have like seventeen messages from all of us, but know we're here... I'm here, you know that."
That is all I said, that is all I had to say. It's what he would say to me when I had needed to be reminded that everything is going to be okay so many times before. After I hung up I let myself slide down the wall and just sit by myself in the hallway, away from all the tears back inside, I couldn't take it anymore.
My phone lit up and I saw that Josh had texted me. All I could see in my lock screen was his name and my heart dropped. My hands shook as I slid my finger across the screen and opened the message.
"I'm here, meet me?"
That is all it said, that is all it had to say for me to know exactly where I had to go. I got up and ran to our school's orchestra room, the most secluded part of the campus with soundproof walls. I knew he was headed there; you tend to be able to read your best friend's mind after five years, an unspoken connection that we seemed to have created. I had gotten there before him, but I knew he was coming. I was nervous, shaking with anticipation and fear for how he might walk through the doors, what kind of state he would be in.
For the five years of our friendship I had always been the one who needed the consoling. Josh was my rock. He was the boy; he was suppose to be the strong one; that is how it was always suppose to be, but not that day. I knew it was my turn to be the strong one; to hold my best friend and be or do anything he needed me to.
I almost didn't hear the clack of metal as the door unlatched, the squeaks as it's hinges moved. I looked up from nervously playing with my hands as I heard the door latch shut and there stood Josh. He looked exactly like my funny, charismatic, loving Josh I had always known, only that was not who was standing in front of me. I could tell he was in bad shape the second we locked eyes. His grey eyes red a puffy with a slight smile on his lips from seeing a familiar face. I ran across the room to him never breaking eye contact, pushing away music stands that were in my way of getting to him fast enough. I clutched onto his torso as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders holding as tight as we could. I balled his sweatshirt up in my hands as he did the same to mine to just hold each other even tighter. I felt him burry his face in the crook of my neck soaking the skin there as he broke down in my arms. Seeing him this way made me cry as well, but Josh was sobbing. Never had I see someone so distraught that his sobs physically ripped through his body. I could feel every cry that came out of him. I have never been more scared in my life than I was in that moment. Someone I love and care so deeply about was shattering into pieces in my arms. Just when I thought he couldn't possibly break anymore I felt his knees give out on him and his body almost go limp as he cried out words that were unidentifiable. I didn't know what else to do but, hold him up even though he was bigger than me. I held onto him with everything I had as he tried to regain his footing. I kept pressing my lips to his temple, smelling his day old cologne and whispering anything I could to try and calm him down as he continued to cry out to me. He eventually regained his footing only to lose it again as more and more sobs racked his body.
I don't know how long we stayed there like that, but it felt like hours. As we finally began to loosen our white knuckled grip on each other I noticed my arms were stiff from the prolonged tension on my muscles, but I didn't care, I wasn't thinking of myself then. We still refused to let go of the other both seeking comfort in the other's touch, knowing someone was there.
We eventually gathered ourselves enough to face our friends. We both knew, without words, that everyone in that auditorium was going to bombard Josh with hugs and questions of his well-being, so I grabbed his hand, intertwining our fingers as a sign that I would not leave his side. He gave my hand a squeeze in return, almost as a way of saying thank you, as we made our way to the others knowing that no matter what we had each other.
