Without Grace
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The moon was not much more than a sliver in the sky when she made her way across the field. A combination of her jingling boots, the low hanging fog, and the dusty rose sky made the scene resemble something out of an old movie. The film seemed to have reached the moment when the hero steps out on the field to do battle with a force of evil. They step out alone, unafraid, shoulders back and head high, marching towards their destiny with grace.
This hero, however, was different. Her shoulders slumped, and she let her mind skip over her surroundings as she walked toward the center of the clearing. She marched toward her destiny⦠without Grace.
The old treehouse waited for her like it always had, smiling at her from the branches of the oak. Blindly, she climbed, feeling the sharp stab of a splinter in her palm as it caught a fragment of the old pieces of wood theyβd nailed up so long ago. Nothing seemed to have changed, and yet everything had changed. There was the lantern and its lighter. The old musty quilts sat neatly folded in one corner out of the rain, and the box and its table still held court in the middle of the room. She sat down, opening the box with trembling hands. A tide of memories washed over her then. This had been their favorite place. When either of them had been through a rough day at school, theyβd sprint across that field from their opposite sides and spread out the quilt and their bad memories. In the end, all the tears theyβd shed didnβt solve any problems, but crying sure helped.
She picked up the old journal and carried it over to the corner, grabbing the lantern and a quilt before sitting down to read, legs crossed. There were all of the pictures theyβd taken with that old thrift store camera. Summers at the neighborhood pool, first days of school, late night sleepovers, sunsets and trees and silly faces. Days, months, years flashed by in a matter of pages. The edges of the pages were worn soft underneath her fingers, wrinkled and splayed apart from all of the memories they held.
In the beginning, they hadnβt even noticed each other. A happenstance meeting in the cafeteria one day had brought them together, and from then on, theyβd been sisters, inseparable. The first person to know her crushes was Grace, and Grace was there when the boy broke her heart. Grace was there on the good days, Grace was there on the bad days. Grace stayed by her side when she felt like there wasnβt much reason to keep going, and Grace was there when everything was going great. Everything was going great until it wasnβt. One day, Grace wasnβt there anymore.
It was a normal Saturday in the summer, Annie remembered. She and Grace had been planning to go to the pool later, like they always did, and then theyβd go to the sweet little ice cream parlor on the corner, like they always did. Annieβs mom had come from the kitchen, holding the phone out to her with a shattered look on her face, and just like that, everything fell apart.
There had been an accident. A small country road, and somehow, a trailer truck out of nowhere.
The time after that for a while was a blur. Annie could barely remember the funeral, going back to school and dealing with the looks in the hallway, seeing that treehouse out her window everyday and being torn apart by the feeling that there was something she could have done better.
Annie closed the journal and held it tight to her chest, pulling the quilt around her shoulders. For a moment, Grace was there and she felt it. She could rest her head on her friendβs shoulder and maybe, even though things were pretty terrible, it would turn out okay. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled through the tears.
Thank you, for every day, every minute, and every second. I will never forget it, and I will never forget you.
She blew out the lantern and picked up the quilts and the journal, leaving the table where it was. The sunset lit her way home, silhouetting the treehouse behind her like the conquered beast it was. It was one small step, but it was something. If Iβve taken this step, she thought, I can keep going. Itβll be hard, and itβll hurt, but I can. With Grace, I can.
Author Notes: If any of you out there have a best friend who's always been there for you, take a second and tell them how grateful you are for them.
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