Over

Part Two - Remembering

“Hey, C!” I want to turn around and slap the caller. How dare you, I want to yell. I want to scream. Don’t call me that. She called me that. Not you. Instead I plaster on a forced smile as I turn.
“Hi,” I say. Should I be louder than that? She always told me I was quiet. I didn’t mind though, not with her. It was an excuse for her to lean in as we talked. So close we could almost have kissed. Should we have kissed?
“Listen, C, I’m sorry to hear about-“
“It’s okay,” I interrupt. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. I can see the hurt flash in his eyes. He didn’t mean any harm. He lowers his head, eyelashes guarding his eyes.
“She was my friend too,” he reminds me. I feel a twinge of guilt deep in my stomach. Then it fizzles, slowly turning to rage. He didn’t love her like I did.
We stand together in silence for a few tense moments, people streaming around us like a river breaking around a rock. Back to water again. She was my rock. Neither of us particularly want to speak but I know we’ll keep standing here if I don’t.
“I’m sorry too.” He leans forward to hear me and I take a step back. “But don’t call me C. It’s Charlie.” I hold my hands up, fingers splayed apart, ready to push him back if he comes any closer.
His head lifts again. “Sorry, Charlie.” He spins around, his bag nearly hitting me, and stalks off. He’s still looking at the floor as he brushes his way through the crowd. The anger fades and I just feel empty. He didn’t know. He didn’t mean any harm.
I continue walking to my class. Chemistry. Sometimes she’d pop up on my route, swinging out of her own class at the sound of my voice. She would grin and her eyes would flash. Our arms would brush, sharing our warmth. Then she’d disappear back into her class and I’d keep walking, struggling to catch my breath. The effect she had on me… words could not describe it. But now I shoulder my way through the crowd in silence. She doesn’t appear. She won’t appear again.

I hate the pity in their eyes. The way they draw back as I approach. I wish they could treat me the way they did before. It’ll be a long time before things go back to normal. If they ever do. Every time I look at their guarded faces I can feel, deep in the pit of my stomach, that they were talking about me. About her. I never wanted to yell much, preferring to keep quiet, but all that’s changed since she died. Again I feel the urge to scream at these people. They’re distant. Or I am. I’m not sure anymore. It’s okay to be sad sometimes, I remember. A bitter laugh rises up in my throat but I swallow it down. She had no idea.
They’re talking about scattering her ashes. Apparently her family were okay with us doing it. I think about the places we could do it. The park, where we lay on our backs and watched the clouds go by. From a break in Christmas shopping, followed by a movie. Maybe. If we do, I want it to be just me and her like that day. The others won’t like that though. I tune into their discussion again. The beach, one suggests, and I silently disagree. Up our local mountain was another idea. They didn’t know her like I did. She hated swimming and only went along for the sake of being with the group. And she always complained whenever we went up the mountain. Yet they were the ones in charge of her remains.
“You okay, Charlie?” A hand reaches to touch my arm. I yank back reflexively. I must have zoned out again. One of the girls turns to another and whispers to her. My cheeks burn.
“The beach sounds good,” I murmur. Everyone hums in agreement. Forgive me, I say silently, casting my eyes up to the sky. It was the best option.