Best Friends Forever

Introduction

I squeeze Zoey's hand the same way I've always done. But this time she doesn't squeeze back. There's a bruise on her right temple from when he shoved the gun to her head. I remember her going silent when she felt the cold metal, shooting me a fearful look. Her eyes are closed now, looks peaceful. She's wearing our concert band uniform; a long black dress with a wide rectangular cut around the neck. We used to run down the band hallway before concerts in that dress. It always flowed so well around her; like it was made only for her. Zoey once told me if she died before she graduated she wanted to be buried in that dress. Her medium-length dirty blonde hair flows over her shoulders. She hated her hair dangling because it would always get in her face. She's holding a yellow rose with red tips in her hands. Zoey loved yellow. She had such a bright personality, a ray of sunshine, always so happy. It was fitting that her favorite color was yellow.

I take a seat next to her casket. I turn around and look at all of the empty chairs. The funeral home let me come in a day early to approve everything before visitation. There were 3 TV's mounted on the walls with a slideshow of pictures and videos I submitted. In every photo, she's smiling, in every video, her bright personality shines through. There are our homecoming photos, her employee of the month picture, her birthday, college campus visits, football games, movie nights, holidays, the list goes on. There was another room connected to the main room with couches and armchairs for people to sit and talk. There was also a table that sat in the center with a few of Zoey's belongings. It all seems so surreal to me and I turn, taking in everything. No, she's not gone. That's not her laying in that casket. But, it is? We always said we would be best friends forever. I guess forever doesn't always last.

When I was 12, my father went on a tour in Iraq. 3 months after he left, we received a letter that he was killed in an explosion. My mother didn't do well with the news. She became depressed and was constantly running off with her new boyfriend Matt. After a few months, Matt moved in with my mother and me. He was manipulative and abusive but my mother never saw it. When I was 13 I got my first job working at a high-end restaurant as a hostess just to get away from them.

When I turned 16 I rented a 1 bedroom apartment so I would never have to deal with my mother or Matt again. Through it all, Zoey was by my side and supported me. She even convinced her dad to teach me how to drive. That's the girl she is, or she was.

Whenever Zoey and I had a deep talk we would always go to the bench by the pond where we met the first time. She always sits on the right and I on the left. We would sit on that bench and pour our hearts out. Sometimes we would bring card games and snacks and sit there all day long just talking and playing card games. I'd give just about anything to sit on that bench with her again. To talk all day one more time.

I walk into our tiny bedroom and sit on my bed. Our room looked like someone copied one side of the room and pasted it on the other side. We had twin beds in opposite corners with our matching wooden desks sitting next to the beds. There was a small bookshelf in between the desks that separated the sides of our room. Zoey read nearly a book a day. Every year the library would put out free books that people could keep. Every year I'd "rescue" a few books and give them to Zoey. Over time her collection grew. I sleep on the left side of the room because it has a window; I love to look out at our bench by the pond. My bed has blue and white zig-zag sheets with photos and fairy lights hanging above my bed. On Zoey's side, she had plain yellow sheets with cat blankets neatly folded. Her blankets seemed to be the only thing she would keep folded and put away. Above her bed were index cards with all her favorite quotes as well as some paintings she made. I hung certificates and awards I've earned over my desk as well as a large whiteboard that I scribbled all my thoughts on. Over Zoey's desk, she also had a whiteboard as well as a photo collage I made for her 15th birthday. Most of her clothes were scattered all over the floor and on her desk chair. This room was Zoey's haven; she spent all her time here. She used to say that if she could stay here forever she would.

I place the box I was carrying down on the floor. Zoey follows nearly dropping the stack of boxes in her hands. She turns around already unpacking.

"Now for the moment you all have been waiting for... drumroll please..."

I reach into my pocket for the spare key to the apartment. It's a small custom key I got made to be yellow with white polka dots on it. I put the key on a white lanyard with a keychain on it that reads "When friends become family" with a picture of us on the back. I place the key in the palm of her hand.

"Thanks!" Zoey studies the key feeling along the ridges then reads the keychain.

We both start to get teary-eyed as we realize we are a small family. All we have left is each other. She gently places the key in the drawer on her nightstand and continuous unpacking. It's not like Zoey to get teary-eyed. She's one of the strongest people I know. I rip open one of her boxes marked "bedding" and help her make her bed as she settles in.

I come back from zoning out, realizing I was staring at Zoey's bed. I smile at the memory of that day before curling into my bed. As I turn out the light I look over to Zoey's side of the room.

"Goodnight Zo."

Silence.