One Last Line

I left a note for her. A bright blue post-it, positioned on my pillow. Hanna remained still, quietly breathing through her mouth.

I'll see you at the show tonight.

;;

First I just stood, but that made me feel rude. Then I was squatting, and now I'm sitting Indian-style, not even a foot from the words that had once ruined my life.

'Tatiana Marie Harding
A loving daughter and friend

June 20, 1983 - September 18, 2000'

I sat there. I didn't move. I didn't cry. I didn't talk. For a good hour, the only thing I could do was stare and blink and breathe. If I even did that.

My phone vibrated. It started after hour number three, after my throat had begun to burn. I ignored the feeling- both of the feelings: The vibration against my leg and the pain in my throat. I knew I would have to do something that would stop both of them.

I reached for my phone, without averting my eyes toward it, and turned it off. The vibrations were gone, of course, but the pain in my throat was not. The tissue of my esophagus felt inflamed, and tight. I attempted to swallow over it, which only increased the pain. I tried. I failed.

Salty tears began to leak from my eyes. I didn't brush them away. I just continued to sob quietly, and cry. In my mind, I knew that I was being weak. I shouldn't cry. Tatiana, she would have told me not to cry.

"Andy," she would have said sharply. I'd look up, and she would slap my arm, before telling me that I was acting like a pansy. I never cried in front of her, but I just knew that would have been her reaction. If I had. A small part of me wished I had. Just once.

My tears dried. A few cars drove by. I could hear them on the dirt road far behind my back and a line of trees. The sun burned my back, as the day continued to grow hotter. I turned my phone back on to check the time, ignoring the many messages and voice mail I had, to see that it was late afternoon.

I didn't want to leave. I could skip out on the show tonight. Bill, Adam, and Mike would be pissed, because they had no drummer and we would have to cancel and that A&R chick would never get to see us play. Hanna would continue to call, and I would continue to ignore her, and I could stay here. With Tatiana.

My phone buzzed again, and I left it to rest on my knee. It stopped, and a few seconds later a beep signaled that I had a new voice mail. I flipped it over, pressed a few buttons, and listened to the message.

"Hey, Andy. It’s Mom. I was calling to wish you luck at the show tonight- Hanna called me a few nights ago and told me about it. I really like her, honey. I'm happy you could move on after.. you know. I miss her too. She was a good girl. I figured you might go see her today, so I want you to tell her that. That I miss her, because I do. I love you, Andy. Bye."

Mom. She really motivates me. I sighed, slipping my phone back into my pocket and taking a notepad out.

I needed to leave. I was going to leave. I was going to miss her. I was going to come back. Next year. Every year. I would come back every year, on September 18th. Maybe before that, even. I just know that I am going to come back, like I know that I am going to leave. Now. Like I need to.

I left a note for her. Another bright blue note, sticking too the hard stone of the headstone.

I never told you this, but I think you're sex on legs too.
I love you, baby. I love you forever.
-Emotech