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“Spencer,” I growl, avoiding answering him.
“Listen, there is a reason for the call, but before I tell you I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course you do. You can ask, but I won’t make you a promise I can’t keep. You know that.” My voice is strong even though my hands are starting to shake.
When Spencer asks you for a favor, you proceed with caution. I fell for his innocent smile the first time and learned the hard way not to trust it. I’m sure he’s sporting the same smile right now, even though I can’t see him.
“Just keep an open mind before I tell you why I’m calling.” Or maybe he’s not smiling considering the serious tone he’s taking with me. When I don’t respond, he continues anyway, “Next Saturday is—”
“I know what it is, Spencer. Kind of hard to forget.”
As much as I’ve tried to ignore the looming date, it’s one that never goes unnoticed. It’s almost as if the calendar turns to March and the countdown begins. Ten days, then five. The days slowly tick by, taunting me with a constant reminder of what’s coming. Of what happened. Of the day I lost a piece of myself. The day my life was forever altered.
The reason I ran away from everyone I ever loved.
“Yeah. Trust me, I know. I’m still here. I relive that day more than most. But this year is the five-year anniversary, and the university and the town are putting together a remembrance, a celebration of life. Summer said she tried to contact you, but you never called her back.”
Summer’s called at least six times in the last week alone. Every single time I see her name on my screen I’m brought to tears. Not just one here or there, either. I full on broke down sobbing in my car for almost fifteen minutes the other day. My makeup was destroyed. My eyes were still red and puffy when I got home from work hours later. There’s no way I’d be able to survive hearing the sorrow in her voice, let alone the blame in her stare. I couldn’t even bring myself to say good-bye to her when I left.
“I’ve been meaning to,” I lie.
“I’m going to let that slide for now.” There’s a long pause before Spencer asks me the one question I have been dreading since my phone started ringing. There’s only one reason he was calling. The one reason I was scared to answer the phone. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to deny him his request. “Will you come back for the ceremony?”
“I can’t.” The words slip past my lips before I give them a second thought.
“You’re going to have to do better than that. I dare you to come up with a damn good reason you won’t be here to remember your best friend. To remember the person she was and the life that was cut short. You’re not the only one who’s still grieving, Andrea. None of us have closure, and sometimes it feels like the wound is as fresh as it was that morning. I’m hoping next weekend will help me move on. Help all of us close the door on that chapter of our lives and move forward.
“I won’t lie to you and tell you that it’s going to be easy. Hell, it’s probably going to be harder than I’m expecting it to be. If all of us are here, together, maybe that will help. And you’re the last one to agree. The only person holding out. The stubborn one of the group.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” I counter when he takes a breath, clearly frustrated with the fact I’m not giving in to his request. I can’t. I won’t be able to handle it. If I break down every year from two thousand miles away, it’s only going to be intensified if I’m back there. Where it happened. In the place that has the power to destroy me all over again.
It doesn’t matter if I’ll be surrounded by people who love me. Who’ve gone through the same thing. Loss is a crushing feeling, and my heart almost didn’t survive the first time. It hasn’t healed from the original blow.
“When it comes to the people I love, maybe I am a little hardheaded. It’s because I care. And honestly, I don’t want to do this without you. It wouldn’t feel right.”
Vivid images of Sam laughing, singing at karaoke night, purposely spilling drinks on rude customers with a sinister smirk on her face fills my mind. She was a wild child with a heart of gold. Her personality radiated off her in waves. From her funky hair to her second-hand clothes. Her style was her own—unique and quirky—and she was proud of it.
She didn’t want to be like everyone else. She did everything she could to stand out. It wasn’t for the attention, like most people assumed until they got to know her. No, Sam was afraid to blend in with the rest of the town. She was a big city girl living in a small town.
I miss her.
Every day.
Every time I pass a coffee shop I think of her. She always smelled like freshly roasted coffee beans. Her nails more often than not had coffee grounds under them. And even when she wasn’t working, she had a coffee in her hand.
It’s why I’ve taken to drinking store-bought iced coffee. I haven’t visited a coffee shop or made a freshly brewed cup of coffee in years. I don’t even own a coffee maker anymore. The only coffee I consume is premade, flavored, crappy bottled coffee I buy in bulk. Vanilla and caramel, never mocha. Mocha was my favorite.
“Fine,” I hear myself mumble. What did I just agree to?Torture, plain and simple. “I’ll be there, just tell me when and where.”
“I’ll make you a reservation at the Hideaway and email you the information.” His voice remains flat, void of all emotion. I was expecting him to be elated with the fact I agreed so easily, but it seems my decision has made this all real for him. “And, Andi, thank you. It’ll be nice to see you, even if the circumstances bring back some of the most painful memories.”
Painful? Sure, but I’d go with a stronger word. Agonizing. Excruciating.
Take your pick on how to describe the feeling that’s been shackled around my heart for the last five years. I still can’t find an adjective to accurately define it.
My best friend was murdered.
Because of me.
