I'm walking down the road, thinking of my life. The breeze lightly caresses my skin, the sun warm on my face. The weather was sunny, the clouds clear and the air clean. Everywhere was bright, as if mocking the very reason for my sadness. The worst thing had happened to me. How am I going to cope with myself? Lance, my best and only friend, is dead. He died from a drug overdose when he went to Sam's party. I told him that he shouldn't go because "illegal things" will be there, and knowing the kind of family he is from, he shouldn't be seen associating with such crowds. But he still refused.
"Sam's been my buddy since childhood. He is leaving the country, at least let me see him once." He said. I did not understand the reason for his sudden friendliness with him. They hadn't been on talking terms for years. I wondered why he was so bent on going. I had told him that there were other ways to see him before he left the country, but he still refused, saying that something might come up that may hinder him from seeing Sam. He pleaded with me to allow him to go and as his best friend, certainly not expecting the worst, I allowed him. What could go wrong I thought. Silly me. He's dead now, so there's nothing I can do. It's all my fault. A so called best friend I am. I kick a stone, and continue my walk home.
I open my eyes and look around the room, trying to figure out where I am. The walls were white as it was only the ceiling I could see clearly. I could barely move my head as I tried to focus on seeing.
"Honey? Honey can you hear me?" That's mum's voice. I look for her around the room, straining my neck, and I find her in front of my bed, wearing protective clothing. What exactly happened to me? I try to move out of the bed, but I can't move my legs. My hands seem like they weigh ten pounds, I couldn't lift it at all, not even a finger. I roll my eyes around, trying to gain my bearing and if possible, get rid of the growing panic I was starting to feel.
"It is okay honey, this is only temporary. Within days, you'll be back on your feet again." Mum says, comfortingly. But why does she sound depressed?
I enter my house and don't bother to holler which I normally do, which was before Lance died. Ever since that incident, I've been a living corpse. I don't see any reason to live anymore. I loathe myself. My mum wants me to go to a shrink but I refuse because I'm eagerly waiting for my time to come and going to a shrink will slow it down.
"Honey? Is that you?"
"Yeah." My mother comes out to meet me.
" You should at least have hollered when you came in. I was getting worried about you."
"Well, I'm here. There's nothing to worry about." Mum sighs. She hates seeing me this way.
"How was your day?" She asks.
"So So." I overhead her talking to a therapist the other day about my condition. She had the call on speaker so I could hear their conversation. The therapist thought that by asking me about my day and being open with me and showing me love and care, that I will start to have feelings of hope for the future and will also be able to move on. I wish that was true.
"Are you hungry? There is a bowl of lasagna in the microwave."
"Thanks mum." I glance at her and try to give her as close as possible to what I think is an appreciative look, then I climb up the stairs and head to my room.
My mother is not what I'll call perfect, but she always tries her best to be there for me. In most cases, she sacrifices her R&R just to attend to my problems. Although I've never admitted it, but I love her for that. My dad on the other hand is always working, so any news about the family, he hears it during dinner time. When he heard of my problem, he tried to persuade me to go to a shrink. I just laughed it off and changed the topic. I can tell that my dad really is worried for me, but he just doesn't have enough time to sit and talk with me.
My elder brother is in college and I hardly ever hear from him. I only see him during the holidays, but that was enough time for mum to tell him about my condition also. He called me one day and advised me to call Lance's mother, and be a source of strength to her. I owe that to my best friend.
I pick up the phone, about to call Lance's mother, when I hear my name.
"Jade, darling? Your lasagna is ready." I holler a "thanks" as I dial Lance's mother's phone number.
"Mrs Dickson? This is Jade."
" Jade! How nice to hear your voice again. How are you?" This is not what I expected. I expected a sad, sorrowful soul, not the cheerful one I'm listening to.
"I'm fine. How are you? Are you okay?"
"Yes dear, I'm fine. Is anything wrong?"
"I just thought that, since, you know.... Lance's death, that you'll be sad." Saying it out loud makes me want to scream the more. The pain is still so raw, as if the accident just happened hours ago.
"What? Who told you that Lance is dead? Lance is pretty much alive! He is sleeping right next to me even!"