0 
0 By Sophie Ann
I think I’m finally ready, ready to talk about all of it.
We sit in the small coffee shop, surrounded by busy beings and crying children. The afternoon of a clear blue day – the 25th of November. The potted plants sit on a brown paved floor, small pink flowers drooping down through the green, awaiting the spring’s warmth to lift them towards the clouds. Floating birds meander around the tall oak trees, pushing acorns and dying leaves to the floor. Reminding me that winter is still upon us.
Like on any other cold day, layers of thick coats and knitted jumpers lie thrown over wooden chairs. Their owners silently queue for a lemon meringue pie or a red jam scone. Maybe accompanied by the finest cappuccino I’ve ever let my lips indulge in.
The last time
Lifting the small smooth pebbles out of my black bag, I lay them out and tell the tale of each. The places they have travelled and the palms they have touched. Sliding the fork underneath the lemon icing, I enjoy every taste of my lunch, the meringue crispy and cool under the pastry. Talking about the month after this, we plan our next greeting. A small outing filled with long talks and smaller cries, but always a hug right before goodbye. Always a smile right before goodnight.
New Year’s Eve comes about, and I sit in the back seat of a chuntering car, makeup masking my tired eyes and faded skin. I flatten out my pink jumper and re-position my hair on my left shoulder, watching the rain race down the tinted brown window. Thunder clapping above our heads, we race into the night to see the smiling faces of family and friends. An evening of laughter and dancing.
A dear message
My necklace bounces between my collarbones as we run, leaping over the rippling puddles. Into the warm house, where a platter of snacks and assortment of alcohol is laid out in front of us to feast upon. Many drinks and small piles of celery sticks later, I send out my Happy New Year messages, an individually written letter to welcome wanted people into my 2018, and hopefully make it the best year I can fathom.
An eager reply from her makes me smile. A new friend, who I’m delighted to keep for the foreseeable future. ‘And to u dear Sophie new year and new adventures xxx,’ she said. A dear message from a dear friend. But now, I have to go on those adventures without you.
January 3rd, I feel okay. Exhausted from the new school term but happily riding home in a smoky bus. Blasting out silent tunes as I listen to the quick chatter of my distant friends. Nearing my stop, I observe the missed calls and texts from my father, asking me to call him as soon as I can.
My heart starts to pound and I stop. I stop to walk off the bus, and then I stop again. I stop to observe the sky. Earl grey clouds covering the blue sky of winter, maybe providing warm or rain, whichever the mood may bring.
The end
Controlling my breathing, shaking hands jittering the phone upon my cold ear, I call my dad. His voice cracks in raw emotion. A seemingly strong person I know to be okay 365 days of the year has broken, and broken to me on the phone. ‘She’s gone, Sophie, I’m sorry,’ I remember him saying.
A small squeak of a reply as the lump builds in my throat. Our adventures have ended. I run to my house as the rain starts to pour as if heaven became human eyes, and cry before my front door. I hide my emotions from my family, not knowing their reaction to my sorrow. Closing my door, I crumble into a ball on my soft floor, sobbing into the dressing gown I knock down on the way.
All I can think of are the times we spent together. The messages we exchanged 3 days ago. The recent act of love which I shall never delete. I cry into my pillows at night time, with an ‘I’m fine’ on my lips for friends and foes alike who ask. A sleepless evening keeps my thoughts alive, sending my mind into the most terrible misunderstood vortex I can’t ever describe.
We travel in silence to say goodbye
It’s raining again and I sigh, mirror showing my curly chair and burgundy dress falling from my hips to my knees, as if too worn out to live this day out. We travel in silence on the morning of the 29th. Sun peeking through the dull January sky, only glistening on the road ahead. We arrive at the one place I do not wish ever to be. I sit in the cafeteria, observing the busy lives that go unaltered and untainted.
Sipping an iced coffee I greet friends and unknowns as my dad appears. Then I show him a piece I wrote for the friend I hold dear. His colleagues read the same piece I wrote from the sheer vulnerability of my heart, old wounds bleeding from last year’s nightmares. Each word brings a new tear and another tissue to wipe away the pain. Each sentence brings a hurting smile to their faces as I sit silent, pulling at my dress.
You were the light
‘No other flower with such a name could be as sweet and beautiful as you. Your happiness was the air of the earth, reaching everyone with a comforting smile. No matter the darkness or problem a person may burden, you washed it away with a soft hug and a much needed talk. When no light was seen by them, you became that light, and guided them to what you, and they, thought was right. The honour of knowing you will remain in my heart for all eternity, until we meet again. Your memories grow in our thoughts and remain a calming lullaby for those who ache with sadness. Thank you from all of the people who had the privilege of knowing you, for being the most kind-hearted person this world could give. We, I, love you very much, Mandy, and you will be missed as much as when you said goodbye to me that last time,’ I read again, tears muffling the breaths I take.
I’m going to miss you
Time to see the face I once knew, but from the outside of a shining box. Gold handles lifted by the mourning family, flowers gathered around the base. We stand and listen to the beautiful words of her family, her friends and the priest. My hands shake in utter sorrow, and the tears flow without control.
A helping hand clasps around my fingers, helping me breathe regularly to the sound of her voice. Inhale, exhale. Finishing with her favourite song, I stand to hug my dad. For the first time in 8 years, he breaks down onto my shoulder. He holds me tighter than I know I need. I cry for him, for me and for everyone. He is the broken boss of a fantastic woman, who even now remains in my heart and mind each passing day.
1in4 UK Book Store:
[amazon_link asins='1977009336' template='ProductGrid' store='iam1in4-20' marketplace='US' link_id='ffcb5f04-1297-11e8-8b2c-c721ea9703cc']
I’m going to miss you on my adventures, dear friend.
I love you, dear Mandy.
http://insightsofastranger.blogspot.com/2018/03/840.html
UNITED STATES
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