Goodbye Forever

7

I didn't go to school the next day. Instead, I took my bus to the school, and then left and walked back to the bridge. To me, going to that bridge was like a regular person going to a graveyard. Only I was too scared to actually go and see her grave.

That day, I spent my time at the bridge talking. But not to another present person, to Lindsay, my dead best friend.

"Do you remember when we were 7, and you brought me to the bridge instead of my house after your party? I'll never forget that day. You sat down and dangled your feet over the water. I was scared, but I copied you, because I looked up to you.

"You were never scared. At least, you never seemed scared. You were always the better of us in everything, except for grades, once we got a bit older. I remember the first time I got a higher mark than you on a math test. You were so jealous and angry, but I wasn't judging you.

"I really hope you know that I was always there for you. I may not have been able to save you. But I just hope you understand that I tried."

Tears started to form in the corners of my eyes, and before long, I was blinking faster and faster until they started to fall. I sobbed, letting out all my held-in feelings, sobbing for Lindsay, for that night with the knife against my stomach, for all my failures and short-comings. By the time the tears finally slowed, I was out of breath, in pain, and more tired then ever.

I walked home, and for the first time in a while, I actually slept. I dreamt, but at least I was finally resting.

I sat on the bed across from Lindsay. Her room was still painted pink and was filled with stuffed animals and Barbie's. It was her eighth birthday. We had planned a sleepover at her house.

Her dad stepped into the room. This was before he left, only about a month before.

"Daddy!" Lindsay had whined. "It's my party!" She had been trying to make her voice sound playful, but to me she almost sounded scared.

Her dad took her hand and led her out of the room. I had thought that he was just talking to her, but maybe something more was going on...

When I woke up, I thought about the flash from the past in my dream. Did Lindsay's father have anything to do with her decision?

Mom came home a few minutes later. I would have already been out of school, so she didn't question me. I just hoped that the school wasn't calling home.

"Your dad is coming to pick you up tomorrow," she said. The next day was Saturday.

"Okay," I replied, no excitement in my voice. When I was younger, I had always looked forward to spending time with my dad, but now, I wasn't.

Mom made supper and I ate a few bites to try to convince her that I was still fine. I think we both knew that I was far from it.

My parents had divorced when I was almost six years old, about 2 months before my birthday. I stayed at Lindsay's house for a few nights after I had walked in on my parents arguing and I knew that something was wrong.

My father had cheated on my mom and had gotten another woman pregnant. She was 20-something and clung to my father like a child. She had a baby girl. At six years old, I was ecstatic. But, when she was two weeks old, my little half-sister died from SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). Her name was Jacqueline, or Jacquie, and I adored her. I only met her once.

Ever since then, I only spent time with my father when he travelled out to see me, which was about one time a month until I was 11, then it was less.

Seeing him tomorrow, would be my first time seeing him in almost a year. The last time I had seen him was around the time when Lindsay had started drifting from me. I wondered if he knew that she was dead.

I snuck away to the bridge again that night, a little less tired since I had napped that afternoon. I searched through my memories and tried to find clues to help me find out what had really happened.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I remember the first time I met you. Our parents met at a nursery dropping us off at three years old. Neither of us had been to a daycare before. My mom said 'hi' to yours and I saw you peek out from behind your mom's legs. We played together that day, and most days after."

I stopped talking to Lindsay, for a second. I had to go home and check my journal entries from times when we were friends. Maybe, I had a lead.