"My Person"

“My Person”

By Amanda Clark

Trigger Warning: grief, death, trauma, and short mentions of blood.

I stared out the window at the storm outside. The thunder was rumbling in the distance as a streak of lightning brightened up the dark, night sky. I could hear the rain pounding down on the roof and the wind blowing through the trees. I looked out in the front yard, the porch light illuminating the pathway. I saw Percy, a garden gnome, tilted over on his side; the flower from his hat had broken off and lay on the concrete next to his head.

“Poor Percy,” I said out loud, to no one in particular.

I gifted Percy to my best friend when she and her husband bought this house last year.

How is she ever going to live in this house without him? I thought.

I started to smell the chicken in the oven, praying we didn’t lose power before it was done. The water on the stove started to boil, so I left my spot at the window to start the pasta. I dumped the pasta in the bubbly water and set a timer. Once I was almost certain that the pasta water wouldn’t burst into flames, I checked on the chicken.

“Please don’t burn, please don’t be dry,” I whispered a soft plea to the breaded chicken in the oven.

I tiptoed down the hall to Angela’s room and peeked inside. She was still sitting up in her bed with that gaze in her eyes, the gaze that had been scaring me all day. Her room had been dark since the sun had gone down; the only light shining in came from the hallway. I tried turning the lights on earlier, but she asked me to turn them off because she had a migraine.

“Hey,” I said softly as I walked into her room and sat down on the edge of her bed.

“Hi,” She whispered, barely looking at me.

“How’s your migraine?” I wasn’t even sure she had one, or if she was just using it as an excuse to sit in the dark.

“Better,” she squeaked out.

“Let’s try drinking something, okay? I don’t want you getting dehydrated.” I told her this, knowing she was already past that point. I grabbed her water bottle from her bedside table, which I had filled with ice water. It had been sitting on her nightstand for the past three hours since I filled it, and it still felt full. I put the straw up to her lips, begging her to take a few sips. She slowly shook her head and pushed the water bottle away.

“Come on, Ange, you gotta drink something.”

“I can’t,” She squeaked out, barely loud enough for me to hear her.

Her eyes were scary to look at; they looked like they belonged to someone else. I set her water bottle back down on her nightstand, holding back the tears. The sound of my phone ringing filled the silence between us. I heard the thunder rolling in the distance, coming closer to us.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nodded slowly with a pained expression on her face. I squeezed her hand and walked out of the room.

“Hey, Mom,” I said as I answered the phone, sounding defeated.

“Hey, honey, how’s she doing?” She sounded concerned, just like I was. I stepped into the living room, talking quietly so Angela couldn’t hear me.

“Not good. She stopped crying, but she’s just staring at the wall. She’s barely looking at me, and she’s not eating or drinking anything. She’s gotta be so dehydrated.” I felt tears coming to my eyes, remembering her wailing yesterday. She was inconsolable all day. She cried so much she threw up. I knew there was absolutely nothing in her stomach giving her strength, but she refused to eat or drink anything. “I’m really worried about her; I just don’t know what else to do for her. I’m making chicken parm, but I don’t think she’ll eat it. I was hoping the smell of her favorite meal would make her hungry.”

“You cooked?!” She practically shouted, clearly in shock.

I heard a rumble of thunder getting louder, and I saw a flash of lightning outside. The wind picked up, and I knew the storm was getting worse.

“Yeah, I know, but I need her to eat, okay? Nothing’s burst into flames yet, so, so far so good.” I forced a chuckle, knowing I have a bad reputation when it comes to cooking.

“You’re a good friend; she’s lucky to have you by her side.” She said. “How’s Issac doing?”

“Good, he’s holding down the fort at home, feeding the cats and trying to win over their love with extra treats.” I smiled at the thought of my cats still giving my fiancé the cold shoulder after three years of him living with us.

“He’s a good man, Eric.” I know she’s smiling; I could hear it in her voice. She treated him like a second son from the first time I brought him home. Sometimes I joke with her, saying she likes him more than she likes me.

“Yeah, he is. I picked a good one. He said to take all the time I need here, but I might be here for longer than I originally thought. She’s not just depressed; she’s traumatized. What she witnessed two days ago was…” I struggled to find the right words. “Seeing her husband die like that, right in front of her. Being covered in his blood… I can’t even imagine what she’s feeling right now.” I choked back a tear, thinking of something like that happening to Issac.

“I’m sorry she’s going through this, Eric. I really am. I wish I could help. Is there anything I can do?” She had that motherly tone that she always had when I was upset. It was soothing, just as it always has been.

“No, not right now. I’ll let you know when she’s up for visitors. I’m sure she would love to see you.”

“Of course, I would love to see her too. Have you heard from Tanya at all? I called her, but she didn’t answer.” Tanya is Andrea’s mom and also my mom’s best friend since Kindergarten.

“Yeah, I think her phone died. She’s trying to come home, but I guess there’s this huge snowstorm in Chicago, and all the flights are canceled for the next day at least. I talked to her earlier, and she kept calling it the business trip from hell. It’s killing her being so far away from Angela right now. I’m all she has until she gets here.”

“Well, don’t say that like it’s a bad thing; you two have been best friends since before you were born. She’ll come to; she just needs some time.”

“I really hope so.”

Just then, the timer signaling that the pasta was done cooking went off.

“Mom, I have to go; the pasta is done.”

“Okay, don’t forget to use a strainer, Eric! Knowing you, you would dump the entire pot of pasta straight into the sink.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious. Bye!” I said, hanging up before she could insult my obviously excellent cooking skills again.

I turned off the burner and carefully strained the pasta over the sink. I left the pasta in the strainer to fully drain and checked on the chicken. Still not in flames, perfect.

I walked back down the hall to Angela’s room. She was now sitting on the side of her bed, her legs dangling off the edge.

“Ange,” I said softly. I went over to her bed and sat down next to her, hugging her close.

“Thanks for being here.” She said softly, resting her head on my shoulder. Her voice sounded hoarse, not like her normal voice at all.

“Of course, anything for you. Angela, look at me, please.” I took my arm out from around her, turned on her bedside lamp, then sat on the floor in front of her. She lifted her head and looked at me. Her eyes were puffy, and her face was red. She didn’t look like herself at all.

“You need to at least drink something, okay? I’m worried about you.” She just looked at me, not saying anything.

“Ange, we’ve been best friends since before we were born. I don’t know life without you; I don’t know how to do life without you, and I’m sure as hell not going to find out anytime soon. If you’re not going to start drinking, I am going to bring you to the hospital so they can put an IV in you. I understand you’re traumatized; I get it. You have every right to be feeling everything you’re feeling right now. But you have to take care of yourself, or at least let me take care of you. You barely drank anything all day yesterday or today. You haven’t eaten since… since it happened. I already lost one friend this week; I’m not going to lose you too.” I felt tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.

We were only two months apart in age; we literally grew up together. We hit every milestone together and helped each other through all of the ups and downs that life threw at us. She was the first person I came out to, the first person to accept me for who I really am. I stood next to her at her wedding, and she will be standing next to me at mine. She’s not just my best friend; she’s my person. I hate seeing my person so broken and not being able to do anything to fix her.

“I’m not…” She croaked out, now looking away from me, at the floor.

“You’re not what?” I asked, confused.

A loud clap of thunder made us both jump and shook the house. She was always afraid of thunderstorms, so this was horrible timing for this storm. I saw anxiety spread across her face, along with the pain and sorrow that were there before.

“It’s okay,” I said in a soothing voice. I reached up, grabbed her hand, and squeezed it. “We’re safe in here. What were you saying? You’re not what?” I asked again. It was silent for a minute; all we could hear was the rain falling heavily on the roof.

“I’m not feeling anything. I’m completely numb.”

Her voice was shaking now; the claps of thunder were getting louder and closer together. Everything that was upsetting her was completely out of my control, and I hated that more than anything. I’ve spent my entire life protecting her, and I felt so helpless, not being able to do anything to stop her pain.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. It just keeps replaying in my mind, over and over. I close my eyes, and all I see is blood… his blood… all over me. If only I had stepped off that curb a second later, I would have seen the car coming, and he wouldn’t have pushed me out of the way. I keep seeing him pinned beneath that car where I would have been if he hadn’t…” She started crying, but no tears came out. She was too dehydrated to cry.

“Ange, it’s not your fault. The driver was drunk and was going way too fast. You can’t blame yourself.” I tried comforting her, but I didn’t know what to say besides that.

We were suddenly interrupted by the timer going off.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go check on the chicken before it bursts into flames,” I said, standing up from the floor.

“How about you come out to the living room? Maybe we can watch some stupid movies?” I said, hopefully. It was a lifelong tradition of ours to watch the stupidest movies we could find.

“You… you made chicken? You can’t cook, Eric.” She looked back up at me. I was hoping for a smile, but I’ll take the slight burn instead.

“Don’t get too excited until you try it! Get your water bottle and get your butt out here!” I yelled over my shoulder as I left the room.

After I removed the chicken from the oven and checked the temperature to ensure I wasn’t going to poison us with salmonella, I transferred the pasta back to the pot and added cheese and sauce, just how she liked it. I turned the burner back on low to warm it up. I heard a creak in the floorboard and turned around to see Angela walking slowly towards the kitchen. She sat at her kitchen island and hung her head, staring at the countertop. She took a deep breath in and let it out.

“I can’t believe you made me chicken parm,” she said, slowly looking up at me. “And nothing burst into flames?” I saw a flicker of a smirk spread across her face. It wasn’t there for long, but it made me so happy to see it, even if it was because she was making fun of me.

“Man! I caused one grease fire four years ago and never heard the end of it!” I said, laughing.

I sat down across from her, and we just stared at each other for a while. I took her hand and squeezed it, something we had done to comfort each other since we were kids. I was happy to see that she brought her water bottle with her. I slowly moved it in front of her on the counter, not saying a word. She looked at me as if taking a sip was the hardest thing for her to do.

“Please, Ange, for me,” I pleaded.

She reached for it and brought it up to her mouth. I smiled as I watched her take a slow sip, then a few more a bit faster. She sighed and put it back down on the counter.

“Happy?” I saw that smirk come back, a bit longer this time.

“You have no idea,” I replied, feeling a little relieved.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t realize you were so worried about me. I’m in so much pain, I can’t even feel it anymore, Eric. He was the love of my life. When you gave me your little speech back there, I realized that I never want you to feel what I’m feeling now. Getting out of that bed was so hard, but I knew I had to do it for you. I know you miss him too; he was a great friend to you. I don’t want your worry for me piled on top of you grieving him. With you by my side, I’m going to fight like hell to get through this.” She looked at me and forced a smile, squeezing my hand.

She was right. I’m realizing, for the first time since I heard about Allen’s death, that I never had the chance to grieve my friend. I was too worried about Angela to even process what happened. I held back the tears, trying to be strong for her.

“Yeah, before I met Isaac, he would always pester me about finding a boyfriend. I think he was tired of being the third wheel when I would tag along on your dates.” I chuckled quietly. “He was so accepting of our friendship from the beginning. I always admired him for that.” I said sadly. It was starting to hit me for real that he was gone. I was still fighting back the tears. I couldn’t fall apart in front of her, not when she’s just starting to make progress.

She practically jumped out of her chair as another loud clap of thunder boomed over us. She put her hands over her eyes, wincing. Watching her do that brought me back to comforting her during thunderstorms when we were kids.

“If I can’t see the lightning, it can’t scare me.” Something she used to say when we were little. She didn’t say it now, but I knew she was thinking it.

“How about some food?” I asked, trying to distract her. I was hoping the water entering her stomach and the smell of her favorite dish were enough to make her feel hungry for the first time in two days.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She looked exhausted.

“Maybe a little bit.” She sighed. “You did make a meal without it exploding. How could I not eat it?” Even at the lowest point in her life, she still managed to make fun of me, and it made me so happy to see a flicker of her former self.

I smiled as I turned back to the stove and made us both a plate. I knew she had a long road of recovery ahead of her, but this was a good start. I watched as she ate; I couldn’t stop smiling.

“You hear that?” I said, grinning at her.

“What?” She asked with a mouthful of pasta.

“The thunder is getting quieter. I think the storm is passing us; the rain is letting up too.”

I opened the window in the kitchen, letting in the cool night air. We spent the rest of the night on the couch, watching another stupid movie. She fell asleep next to me, snoring softly. I was relieved she was finally getting some sleep. She looked so peaceful.

I quietly crept out of the room and walked down the hallway to the guest room I was staying in. I closed the door, sat on the bed, and buried my face in my pillow. A wave of grief hit me all at once. Everything I had been holding in the past two days came out in quiet sobs as I was finally starting to grieve the loss of my friend. I lay down on the bed and cried myself to sleep.