You’re sitting on the floor of your best friend’s bedroom. Minutes before, you were both dancing around her basement, choreographing her performance for the school talent show. “Let it Be” by the Beatles, a classic. She had never been one to put herself out there, especially without your gentle nudges of encouragement, but you were proud of her nonetheless. So yeah, her dancing was gawky, and when she flailed her arms for balance she looked like she was about to take flight, but you felt that it was an important step for her to take.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be
You both tried to end the verse in splits, but you hadn’t been that flexible since before you knew each other, and you instead ended up on your sides, griping each other, laughing at your own foolishness. That’s how her grandmother found you two, in your final moment of ecstasy for months to come. Possibly years, in Cassidy’s case.
“Jade, can you call your mom to pick you up?” You look up at this woman, standing halfway down the stars. She’s rubbing her palms up and down on her apron, her German accent sounding like she’s rolling rocks in her mouth. You want to ask about dinner, because ever since Cassidy’s mom was diagnosed with leukemia you always stayed for Sunday dinner, but the way her grandmother rubs her palms against herself, mindlessly, nervously, made you stand up and nod.
“Oma?” Cassidy said. Her grandmother waved her upstairs, and you shot each other a look when she passed by.
Although you called and texted both your parents about a thousand times in ten minutes, neither of them answered. Cassidy never came back downstairs, so you wandered up, only to find her sitting on the floor of her bedroom, her back flat against the side of her bed. Her head was in her hands and she explained what her grandmother said to her.
“It’s time,” her grandmother had said, rubbing Cassidy’s back. “We should join your father at the hospital to say our goodbyes. As soon as Jade’s parents come pick her up.”
So now you’re waiting in Cassidy’s bedroom, thick silence drowning you both. Your mom finally called you back, and you told her it was an emergency, and she’ll be there in fifteen. As the seconds tick by on the old grandfather clock, you think, that that’s one second less she gets to be with her mom, because you’re keeping her here. Selfish. Her hand is laying flat on the floor in between you, so you cover it with yours, and while she doesn’t pull away, she doesn’t acknowledge that you’ve touched her either.
“At least you’ll be able to say goodbye,” you say.
“Yeah,” she says. But her voice is hollow, and you never thought this day would come, her mom’s been sick for so long. It felt like life would go on like that indefinitely. God, where was your own mother? Then you want to hit yourself, because what slap in the face. You should have insisted your dad picked you up. If she won’t have a mother at age fifteen, how is it fair that you will?
You two wait in tense silence. You think that this will define your friendship. Everything from this point on will be thought of as before and after. You feel bad that you’re not crying. You look to see if Cassidy is crying. She isn’t. You rest your head on her shoulder, and she rests her head on yours, but that feels wrong, so you switch positions and envelop her, her head on your shoulder, and you give her all the strength you have, until your mom arrives.
Realistic Fiction
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I would have never believed this was fiction had I not seen the genre of this post. What makes this story so powerful is that each detail is down-to-earth. Your characters don’t feel like characters, they sound like real people that I could run into one day. The plot doesn’t sound like a storyline, it feels like I’m intruding on their lives without them realizing. This is exceptional, and I think you’ve defined what it means to bring your reader into the story. I can’t wait to see more!
I loved your story and the significance of events we must all face. It is a story that most can relate, yet is specific to only you. The tenderness and love expressed is wonderful. I want to read more.
Mac
What is the significance of the picture you chose? How does it relate to your story? I find it a fascinating selection.
There was no real significance. I find that if a picture relates too directly to the piece, it dulls the imagination. It evoked something in me. You know that leaf is about to be lost in the ocean. And also, why is a leaf near the ocean? It’s out of place (Much like Jade).
The story did seem so real as if almost I was there and your explanation above defines something wonderful about this story, thank you for sharing.
I love your poem, do you have any tips for inspired writers like myself? Poetry has been something I’ve found that helps me express my emotions and thoughts. I would like to get further in debt with poetry.
Read a lot! There’s no better way to understand how to make the language moving by reading other acclaimed writing. (But NOT Rupi Kaur).
Very interesting the way it was written, most eloquently. I felt apprehension when the grandmother pushed her hands against her body; I felt something uncomfortable was about to happen. I liked inserting the verse stanza in the poem; the contrast was welcome. I wanted to read more of the story because as it ended, I had so many questions. Well done.