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Everything after was a blur.
Days and months after the funeral, the house still feels empty. Day by day, James and I tried to get by. There was never a day, an hour or a minute, I didn't think of my lovely Nicole.
I even thought of joining her sometimes. Our lives were never the same. My heart never felt the same. It felt like as if a huge part of me has been taken away. I don't think it’s ever gonna be normal for me. The aftermath goes on forever.
It… It did not make any sense. I did not understand, and I still do not understand. I just thought she overslept. But she went beyond over sleeping.
They say that the speed of light travels so fast that when there is an invented laser that could go around the earth, its beam would make seven full turns in a second. They say that the Alpha Centauri, the nearest star on earth, is so far away and even when light is the fastest traveling matter, that one star would take four years and 278 days to reach us. They say that there is an 8-minute lag between us and the sun that what we see at the moment is what the sun was 8 minutes ago. So, when the sun dies, the moment of impact will reach us 8 minutes after.
Upon seeing her, I did not quite know how long it took before the moment of impact traveled from her to the rope that hugged her dear neck tightly, to the ceiling that is strong enough to bear her weight, to the doorway that she kept locked until I kicked it open, and then finally, to me.
James had to calm me down because before the senses got back to me, I was screaming, crying and losing myself. James held me. James calmed me down. James called the ambulance, only for Nicole to be declared dead on arrival. James held me. James calmed me down.
I wasn't prepared...were you?
Sometimes Nicole, I think you took her with you. Mama, I mean. I saw her earlier, reading that article you published in the magazine you bragged the whole month. She stared at that same page for hours, Niks. I knew, she was grieving inside. Because I was, too. Everyone in the house was quiet. We mourned everyday for months. Even Conan. He would not touch his food anymore.
I remember everyday. That night, we talked before going to bed. Then the next day, I woke up with Mama’s screams. It was horrible, Nicole. I almost thought it did not come from Mama. It was that horrible, as if the voice of misery itself.
I hated you after that. I hated how everyone talked oabout you, how they asked what happened, how they were worried about you and never about Mama. Mama was the one mourning, you see, and yet everyday, Mama hears the daily dose of insensitivity in form of, “You should’ve talked to your daughter more often,”, “You should’ve never installed locks on their doors!”, “You should be careful that not the same thing happens to James,”.
.
They did not know, Nicole, that Mama was the one they should worry about and not me. They blamed Mama, I know they do. Mama blamed herself, too. Do you see what you did?
I’m sorry.
I know this is not your doing. And I always say in my mind that I hate you, but it is I whom I hate.
We talked that night, Nicole. You could have talked to me. You could have talked to me.
I wish I talked to you.
You know, I always envied you. The achiever, the most pretty, the brightest and the shiniest.
We were best friends for 10 years. We were together since we were in kindergarten. We only live 3 houses away from each other. Every afternoon after class, we would bike at the park in our small town and talk about random stuff. We cried, laughed and grew up together. We did almost everything together.
I knew you had problems. You always had those anxiety attacks. I did not actually understand why, but I did everything I could do to help you. I would go to your house to sleep over and we would talk through the night until we fall asleep together.
Seven long months of fighting, and then, you gave up. You just stopped and left. I am left here, replaying scenes, trying to find clues and moments I may somehow skipped unnoticed, trying to find sad sense.
You left us.
You left me.
You were more than just a friend. You were my soul sister.
It will never make any sense.
Bea Patrice Villa
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