Shatter

The door creaks as it opens. Soft, golden light shines through both windows, illuminating the pink and orange bedspread and the matching rug Alana can’t bear to look at. She walks off to the right and her heels ring into silence. “Click, click, click.” In the mirror on the back of the closet she takes a good long look at herself. The black dress she wears is too tight and as she exhales one breath she fears she won’t be able to inhale the next. Her long, light-brown hair is pulled back into a too perfect half ponytail. She’s so disgusted with the image of herself in the mirror that she wants to smash it, but instead pushes it aside to gain access to her clothes.

She pulls out her ponytail while her left hand massages the tense muscles in her neck. Her eyes close as she tries to focus on her breathing. She had once read somewhere that it would help. It doesn’t. Behind her back her hands stretch to find the zipper at the nape of her neck.”zzzzzzzzzzzip” The cotton fabric slides off her body and she can’t help but feel naked both inside and out. The dress is returned to its hanger in hopes that it will never have to be worn again and the noisy heels make a dull thud as they are kicked into the dark corner. She moves slowly, pulling out gray sweatpants from one pile and a large, baby blue sweatshirt from another. A pair of thick socks finishes off the comfy outfit. The new clothes feel better than the dress. She can now inhale and exhale with slight ease. She turns to look around her room. Her bed is actually made for once. Clothes, both clean and dirty lay in messy piles. Sprawled out next to the rug is the borrowed book she had been reading when she had received the text.

if I ever have to sit through Js class without you again im not going to talk to you for a week!

Beth hadn’t been in school that day, leaving Alana to face the horrors of pre-cal alone. She didn’t plan to actually freeze Beth out for a whole seven days, but felt like she had needed something to threaten her best friend with to let her know she would not stand for being left alone. Already used to Beth taking some time to text back Alana threw her backpack on her floor and went to grab a snack.

Cinnamon pretzel in her mouth Alana came back to her room to see that Beth still hadn’t responded. Maybe she had been too harsh.

ok surely not an entire week you know that would be near impossible for either of us

Hours later, Alana had still not received word from her best friend. Her parents sat down to watch the evening news and she sat down to finish the book Beth had lent her. When she got to the point when she couldn’t wait to find out the fate of Sam, the book’s beautiful bad-boy hero she desperately needed Beth to tell her the ending. This time she picked up her cell phone to call, intending to beg if need be. When no answer came she tried texting Collin.

Beth needs to call me now! Im going crazy!

Collin was quicker to respond than his sister.

Alana, Beth…..

 

Alana closes her eyes causing her sight of both her lighted room and the brightened phone screen to fade to black. It didn’t happen. She tells herself. With a rushed huff she opens her eyes and walks over to the empty desk chair, sweatpants brushing against her legs, and her socks muffling the sound of her footsteps to only small creaks of the wood. She folds herself into the chair, her right leg under herself and the left curled up to her chest. She reaches out and uses the desk as a way to sway. Right, left, right, left. She grabs the black hair tie off the desk and pulls her straight hair up into a messy bun that half-heartedly attempts to fall back down. Sighing, she pulls her right leg out and curls it up to the left, her arms wrap around her knees. Her sleeves stretch with the tight grip of her fingers on the ends. She stares out the window, taking in the fading afternoon light, trying to absorb the peace that comes with the softly chirping birds. Peace, however, is untouchable and her eyes move back to her desk. She tells herself not to do it but then hesitantly reaches out to place her hand on her phone anyways. Nails scratch the desk as her fingers curl around to grasp it tight. She pulls it back toward her and clicks it on. For the first time in days she’s once again looking at the tiny screen. With a few button clicks she’s scrolling through the contacts until she reaches Beth. Call. Nope. Text. Click!

Are we still going to the movies tonight?

She sits and waits, eyes never leaving the screen. One minute goes by. The screen goes black. Two minutes. The doorbell rings. Alana’s eyes still don’t leave the screen. A minute of hushed words exchanged. The air seems heavier to Alana, less breathable. Footsteps in the hall. She knows she shouldn’t let him find her like this. He stops in the doorframe, leaning against the side opposite the hinges. Alana still makes no effort to take her eyes of the phone.

He’s still in his dress clothes. Black blazer over a white button-down shirt that is noticeably untucked from the black dress pants. His chin length hair falls into his face. It’s the exact same shade of dark brown as Beth’s.

“How you holding up?” He asks.

“Collin, please don’t.”

“Okay,” He says and pulls up the much smaller wooden chair to sit down next to her.

“A bit stuffy in here, isn’t it?” He asks.

She shrugs her shoulders. Not wanting to admit that her breathing hasn’t been the same since he had texted her. He takes it upon himself to walk around her and open the window. He leans on the windowsill to take a deep breath. His breathing hasn’t been doing so well lately either.

            “There,” He straightens back up and claps his hands together. “much better.”

Alana still stares at the screen. Collin examines her. The two sizes too big sweatshirt and the thin loose pieces of her hair, her expectant expression. He looks back and forth. Phone to face. It takes him a moment to understand exactly what she is waiting for. He sighs and returns to his chair. His dress shoes making the same “click” as her heels had on the uncarpeted panels. He folds his hands together and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looks intently at her unwavering stare and wishes he didn’t have to break it to her.

“She’s not going to reply.”

Alana sniffs but still doesn’t take her eyes off the phone.

“Yes, she is.” Her voice cracks on the “she”. Her teeth clench; her throat dries and her fingers tighten around the phone. She scrunches her face up, trying to get just as tight a hold on herself.

She knows he’s right. That she could sit here forever staring at that black mirror and the message she is waiting for would never come. And before she can even register what she’s doing, she’s flinging the phone across the room with all of her strength. It hits the orange painted wall, leaving a round dent before dropping to the floor in pieces. Alana’s arm retreats back to her body.

 “Why?” She whispers as the tears begin to fall.

 "Why?"

Collin pauses, giving her a second of time before moving his seat closer; wrapping one arm around her while his opposite hand pulls her head in so she is sobbing into his shirt. His chin resting on top of her hair.

"I don't know." He says helplessly.

Because he doesn't know. He doesn't know why his sister had decided to take her own life and not leave a note. He doesn't know why it had taken him hours to tell Alana or why he felt guilty for telling her through a text. He doesn't know what his parents are going to do with Beth's room or if they would even be able to look into it. And he doesn't know what her teachers will think when their eyes slide past the vacant desk or if someone would dare to snatch away the empty seat next to Alana in the cafeteria tomorrow. This time his voice cracks because he wishes he could give her a better answer.

"I don’t know."

They sit like that for hours. Until Alana's eyes are dry. Until the light fades from the room. Alana stares at the broken phone and Collin watches the scene outside the window; kids rush into their homes as street lamps flicker on. And middle aged men drag trashcans to the ends of their driveways. Collin, for a moment resents them all, because they get to climb into their warm beds tonight and sleep peacefully. Their worries easily forgotten and put off for tomorrow. Now the tears fall down Collin's cheeks.

 And even when the clock silently rolls over to midnight, and Collin’s tears are long gone, they still sit holding onto each other. To let go would be to let go of living, feeling.