I Wish You Were Here

TW: Death and themes of strong grief

I opened the journal that me and Sage shared. I went to Friday, week… we stopped counting at week five, to be honest. I skimmed over my parts, my rambling about my annoying siblings and scary dreams. I stopped at her part. I could feel my throat and chest tightening, and I could feel tears forming in my eyes. I can’t even look at her handwriting anymore.

Friday!!

Hey, girl hey! OMG that was really cringe… I shouldn’t do that anymore… Anyway, not much is happening right now. You know who is playing dodge ball with the rest of after school. Ugh, this is so boring. Hold on… OK, Brylee just came up to me and said that you know who was being mean to her. I rolled my eyes and thought, figures, and then told her to tell Ms. Lizzie. I honestly can’t wait for this whole school year to be OVER. Like, I just want to forget you know who and all of his rotten friends. I wish you were here, Wren. Genuinely. I’m so BORED without you! OK, I’m gonna take a bit of a break because Brylee and Abby want me to play dodge ball. Wish me luck. OK- I’m back. Not much happened, but I was actually doing well in dodge ball! I know you would’ve been SO much better, though. Oh well. Oh, I gotta go now, Bianca is here to pick me up. See you tomorrow!

Love, Sage.

That was the last day. I wasn’t there, all because I had a stupid stomach bug. They gave me the journal because well, it was shared with me. Everyday I read an entry because that’s all I had left of Sage.

I don’t like to think about the accident. No, I’m not gonna capitalize it like it was the Super Bowl or something. I don’t get why everybody wants me to talk about it. Like, literally everybody. They’re saying that it was an aggravated murder, but they won’t tell me why or who they’re suspecting. All I know is that she and Bianca died in the car, before EMS could even get there.

But I don’t like to think about it. My mind, it places images in my head that makes me want to die. Not really, but just the image of Sage in a crushed car, bones broken, blood everywhere- it makes me want to crawl into a hole and just die. Maybe a few people would miss me.

I pushed away the thoughts of the thoughts and grabbed a Kleenex. I always wore waterproof mascara, but today the entry really got to me. I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t know how I was surviving.

There were grayish smudges under my eyes, thanks to a combination of sleep deprivation and attempting to lessen the darkness of the mascara, and there were bright red pimples screaming at me all over my face. I sighed heavily, and it was hitched in a way that had become normal for me. My head was getting foggy, and I told myself I needed to take a nap or something. I was surviving on three hours of sleep- as to quote Billie- about twenty-one a week now.

I laid down on my soft mattress that I was gifted as a sorry-but-I-don’t-know-how-to-offer-grief-support-except-for-casseroles-and-mattresses gift from Sage’s grandma. Yeah. I could feel hot tears escaping from where my eyes had once seen hers. I could feel my heartbeat quicken, and then become slow as I drifted asleep. I wanted the world to stop spinning. I wanted the voices to become quieter. But I learned a while back that I can’t always have what I want.

I woke up three hours later, my brain mentally deciding that I wouldn’t sleep that night. I would stay awake, doom-scrolling or writing some sad life story or something like that. I was worried that people would worry about me. I was strong, I could handle a little accident on the road. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. But a sliver of me didn’t care anymore. That sliver wanted to actually function for once. To sleep again. To calm down. But a lot of the times the sliver was overruled by all the other 99.8% of my brain.

I got up slowly, swiping under my eyes to reveal more grayish black dried up mascara under them. I don’t know why I even bother with makeup anymore. Maybe it’s because that’s the only sense of normalcy left in my life. I can’t go into a grocery store without breaking down at the sight of something I once made or bought with Sage.

I yawned and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet. I filled it with tap water and gulped it down. It was like that cup of water was the last cup of water I’d ever drink, but I was stranded in a desert and couldn’t help myself like in the movies where they can somehow survive on a measly six ounce water bottle by drinking half an ounce every day. Weird analogy, right? Yeah…

Mom was at work, and she didn’t bother sending me to school since the accident, so I was on my own most of the day. I didn’t have some tight-knit schedule or anything. Mostly, I just kinda floated around, ate what I needed to not starve to death. It was almost like I was a ghost, haunting my sad little house and life.

Suddenly, my phone rang from inside my room. I slid on the neatly polished wooden floors in my socks and threw open my door, lunging to grab my phone.

“Hello? This is Wren speaking,” I said politely into the phone, clearing my throat a little.

“Hello, Wren. This is Detective Violet Tucker from the Waden Police Department speaking. We have some new information regarding the case of Sage Lucas. Sage’s mother has decided that it would be in her late daughter’s best interest for you to know this, Wren. Anyway, would you like to hear the information? We must let you know that this information you will receive if you choose to receive is highly classified, and top-secret. Well, not really, but you must not disclose this information to anyone who does not have any prior information.”

“Oh, uh, sorry, this is just a lot to take in. Also, not to be rude, but were you reading from like a paper? There’s no way that you just came up with that on the spot. That could be in, like, a British crime show or something. Sorry. Anyway, yeah, I wanna know. Of course I want to know! She was my best friend, ma’am.”

“I know that. And yeah, they actually have us read off a paper. I’m just kidding. But seriously, they train us to say stuff like that. Anyway, if you’re sure you want the information-”

“I’m sure I want the information, miss,”

“Okay, that’s clear. Anyway, here’s the info. Remember, don’t be spilling it to anyone now. No matter how much they lure you; no matter how much you trust them. Got that, kid?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay. Now, where was I? Oh right, the info. OK: So, we got some info on who the driver of the semi might’ve been, so yeah. And we’re not a hundred percent sure if it was really an aggravated murder, but we’re pretty sure, given the new identity of the possible murderer. Anyway… OK, let me just cut straight to the chase: the possible murderer is your dad, kid.”

“What? I… I never had a father figure growing up, my mom raised me as a single mother… how do you know he’s my dad?”

“DNA tests, kid. They’re not just in the movies, alright?”

“Okay…”

“Anyway, it’s Milton Wood. He’s your father. But yeah. Anyway, uh, have a great rest of your day, Wren.”

“Yep. I’ll have such a great rest of my day, Violet Tucker. So great.”

“Look, I’m sorry, kid. We can’t prevent these things, ya know?”

“No duh. I’ve been through it all. Let’s just say this isn’t my first rodeo, ma’am.”

“Yeah, I know. I looked at your records and everything, Wren. You’re not as golden as they think. Nice move though, escaping to the Midwest. Nobody knows your name, eh?”

“Okay, I get it. Nice talking to you, Violet. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone and flopped onto my bed, a mixture of crying and groans flying into the pillow. I made a mental note to clean it later. What the actual heck was going on? My father’s a murderer of my best friend? Why?

Mom didn't come home for the whole day. I stopped expecting her to come home around the time her job ended a really long time ago.

I hummed a poem that I had written after the call. Yes, I vent in the form of poetry. Sage was always okay with that.

Forever and ever we said

We'll be together forever and ever

But now I don't know what to do because

I don't have you

I'm lost in an endless pile of guilt and some other things

And I wish I could just feel you

I'm really

Really

Sorry for all the times I was mean to you

Even if it was a joke and you were okay with it

I don't know what to do without you

Because

Forever and ever we said

We'll be together forever and ever.

I stared at the piece of paper that I had just picked up from my bedroom floor. I didn't know what to do. I'll never know what to do.

Sage was my everything.

I can't just recover from that kind of loss in a second, but that's what everybody expects deep down. At the moment, they all say, 'oh, take all the time you need to recover, Wren'. But eventually, sometimes your grief becomes a form of embarrassment for others. People don't like to admit their flaws because they have to accept them and eventually move on. Losing somebody, in my case, is kinda like that. But no matter how hard you try, that thing will always be with you, even in your happiest moments. You could be getting married and then remember that you can't keep promises. Yeah, like that.

The rest of the night moved on really slowly. I couldn't stop thinking about what Violet had said.

You're not as golden as they think.

I tried my best to let it go. I couldn't, God forbid.

At around three AM, Mom called.

"Mom? What are you doing? Where are you?"

"Can't tell you that, bird,"

"Yes you can, Mom!"

"No, I can't. You don't understand."

"Whatever. Now cut to the chase or I'm hanging up."

"Fine. I knew the whole time, Wren."

"About what?"

"Dad."

"You-you knew?"

"I always knew."

I hung up the phone. I hated Mom.

Three Years Later

Sage's funeral's third anniversary was today. Friday, June Eleventh. I will never be the same again.

But I have to push through for Sage.

For Bianca.

I looked at the journal entry again, tears springing up.

I wish you were here.

I whispered into the air, "I wish you were here, too."