Cookies
Cookies
I swung back and forth slowly on the swing, my heart beating slowly against my rib cage, my thoughts flying around in my head. I felt like I was going to be sick.
“She will be alright. She will make it.” They all said. How could they have been so wrong? I could remember all the good times we had together. Now they didn’t mean anything. I had nothing similar to look forward to.
I was the new girl in the school. Forced to move from Arizona all the way to Rhode Island smack in the middle of seventh grade. I always had trouble making friends, and this didn’t help. Not at all.
She wasn’t that popular, but she smart, and pretty enough, and everyone liked her. Lazhia took me under her wing immediately. I was like an ugly duckling compared to her, compared to everyone else in the school. She had white teeth, and dazzling black hair with butterscotch brown eyes. I had a gap between my front teeth, my glasses never stayed on right, and my hair was an ugly, faded red that looked like it had been brushed so much that it now decided to stay perfectly flat. She had the perfect, curvy body, and I was too tall for my age; I was awkward, knobby.
And yet we became best friends immediately.
She loved dragging me over to her house. Her mother took me in immediately, just like she had. She loved cooking, and every time I was over (which turned out to be almost every day), we’d eat a pile of cookies, cupcakes, and other sweets that would give my parents a heart attack, had they known I was eating it.
Her younger brother, Robby, always clung onto me. Wherever we went, he followed, watching us, but never really wanting to be apart of what we did. Neither of us cared, I thought he was adorable, and Lazhia was used to babysitting him.
And so, just like that, I was part of the family.
Lazhia didn’t get into my family so easily. At first I didn’t let her come over, always coming up with some excuse.
“My parents are out.” “I told them I was going over your house.” “We’re planning something special tonight.”
Eventually, though, I had to let her come over. My mother, who was over protective of me, her only child, watched us both like a hawk. Lazhia mentioned going on a walk, and Mom snapped that it was much too cold out for that. After that, the only thing we had to courage to do was homework. It was a dull afternoon, and when my father came home, he and Mom started fighting.
I was dying by the time Lazhia left. When she finally did, I went up into my room and stayed there for the rest of the night.
As long as she wasn’t over my house, we were having fun. Lazhia loved doing wild things, like sliding down railings, and jumping from the swing when it was high in the air. I never managed to get the courage to join her, but I applauded her on. I suppose I shouldn't have, but at the time nothing seemed wrong about it.
The first time she’d gotten a date, she tried convincing me to come along with her. I protested, of course. I didn’t have a date, first of all, and second, I was a babbling idiot in front of boys. In the end I somehow won, and she sulked for a while, but as soon as she got back she was her old self, gushing on and on about everything that happened.
I was also the one who lent her my shoulder to cry on when she was dumped. I ended up sleeping over, and the first half of the night she cried and went on about how perfect they were together. The second half she spent cursing him and saying how stupid and ugly he was, any ways.
The first time we had a fight was over the famous Johnny Depp. I thought it was stupid to pour your heart out to someone you didn’t even know. Lazhia said I was stupid, that the only reason I didn’t like it was because no one had ever loved me.
We screamed at each other for a while until her mother came up and broke us up.
I couldn’t go home, so I just stayed in the kitchen sulking and slowly eating the cookies her mother placed in front of me.
When it was time to leave, Lazhia finally came down and apologized, and we made up, promising to never fight again. And we never did.
Yes, the years went by quickly. Eighth, ninth, tenth. I grew up with her by my side. The first twelve years of my life didn’t matter. I had been reborn when I met her. I was more confident with her around, I was always happier.
We learned how to drive together. I learned fast, and I always followed the rules. She had trouble at first, and when she finally got it, she always went over the speed limit, always going too fast around corners. I told her once or twice to be more careful, but I never pushed it. I guess that’s why I wasn’t surprised when she got in a car accident.
I remember how numb I felt, climbing into the car as my mother drove me to the hospital. Walking down the hall, staring at the back of the doctor until we walked into the room and I was faced with Lazhia.
Her hair was gone, her head wrapped in bandages. Scratches covered her face and arms. Her mother and father stood up immediately, pulling me into a hug, something even my own parents neglected to do when they had heard what happened. I stared at Lazhia’s smile, watching her sleep.
I stayed at the hospital all night, along with her mother. We both sat in the chairs, sometimes watching her, sometimes taking quick naps. I was the one who was awake when she woke up.
She opened her eyes and blinked slowly, then a large, clumsy smile broke out on her face.
“Gina.” She said stupidly. I slowly nodded. “Gina.” She said again, reaching out her hand. I took it in my own two, rubbing the back of her hand.
“What is it, Laz?” I whispered. She just stared at me with blank eyes. I realized then that she was different. The vacant look in her eyes was all that I needed to see.
I had promised to wake up her mother, but I didn’t want the woman to see her child like this. She would see it soon, and I didn’t want to be there. Slowly, I stood up, gently patting Lazhia’s hand back onto the bed, then walking out.
I walked down the hall, not feeling myself moving. I felt dead, even when I walked outside and the crisp winter air hit my face. I started immediately towards the park that we had always loved to fool around in.
Now I sat on the swing as it drifted slowly back and forth, the toe of my boots wearing a path in the snow. I could feel the warmth of my tears against my face, tasting the salt when I licked my lips.
Lazhia died two days later. I guess some part of her didn’t want to live like that, live in an empty corpse.
The next day I learned we were moving, so my father could take a job down in Florida. We were moving before the wake. The days went by so slowly now, I didn’t think they could get slower, but they did.
As we were packing the things into the van, Lazhia’s mother came by. I recognized the old truck immediately as it parked by the side of the road, and the woman slid onto the ground. I stayed frozen where I was, watching as she walked over to me. She stopped a couple inches from me, putting a plate of cookies in my hand.
We stood staring at each other for a long time, and finally she said “I can’t believe I’m losing both of my daughters.”
I’m not sure how she managed not to cry. I’m not sure how I did either. She pulled me into a hug, and I hugged her back, squeezing her hard, not wanting to leave the comfort and safety of her warm bosom. But eventually she let go of me. I clung on a moment longer, then let go slowly, and she trudged back to her car.
I cried as I watched the truck drive away.
“She will be alright. She will make it.” They all said. How could they have been so wrong? I could remember all the good times we had together. Now they didn’t mean anything. I had nothing similar to look forward to.
I was the new girl in the school. Forced to move from Arizona all the way to Rhode Island smack in the middle of seventh grade. I always had trouble making friends, and this didn’t help. Not at all.
She wasn’t that popular, but she smart, and pretty enough, and everyone liked her. Lazhia took me under her wing immediately. I was like an ugly duckling compared to her, compared to everyone else in the school. She had white teeth, and dazzling black hair with butterscotch brown eyes. I had a gap between my front teeth, my glasses never stayed on right, and my hair was an ugly, faded red that looked like it had been brushed so much that it now decided to stay perfectly flat. She had the perfect, curvy body, and I was too tall for my age; I was awkward, knobby.
And yet we became best friends immediately.
She loved dragging me over to her house. Her mother took me in immediately, just like she had. She loved cooking, and every time I was over (which turned out to be almost every day), we’d eat a pile of cookies, cupcakes, and other sweets that would give my parents a heart attack, had they known I was eating it.
Her younger brother, Robby, always clung onto me. Wherever we went, he followed, watching us, but never really wanting to be apart of what we did. Neither of us cared, I thought he was adorable, and Lazhia was used to babysitting him.
And so, just like that, I was part of the family.
Lazhia didn’t get into my family so easily. At first I didn’t let her come over, always coming up with some excuse.
“My parents are out.” “I told them I was going over your house.” “We’re planning something special tonight.”
Eventually, though, I had to let her come over. My mother, who was over protective of me, her only child, watched us both like a hawk. Lazhia mentioned going on a walk, and Mom snapped that it was much too cold out for that. After that, the only thing we had to courage to do was homework. It was a dull afternoon, and when my father came home, he and Mom started fighting.
I was dying by the time Lazhia left. When she finally did, I went up into my room and stayed there for the rest of the night.
As long as she wasn’t over my house, we were having fun. Lazhia loved doing wild things, like sliding down railings, and jumping from the swing when it was high in the air. I never managed to get the courage to join her, but I applauded her on. I suppose I shouldn't have, but at the time nothing seemed wrong about it.
The first time she’d gotten a date, she tried convincing me to come along with her. I protested, of course. I didn’t have a date, first of all, and second, I was a babbling idiot in front of boys. In the end I somehow won, and she sulked for a while, but as soon as she got back she was her old self, gushing on and on about everything that happened.
I was also the one who lent her my shoulder to cry on when she was dumped. I ended up sleeping over, and the first half of the night she cried and went on about how perfect they were together. The second half she spent cursing him and saying how stupid and ugly he was, any ways.
The first time we had a fight was over the famous Johnny Depp. I thought it was stupid to pour your heart out to someone you didn’t even know. Lazhia said I was stupid, that the only reason I didn’t like it was because no one had ever loved me.
We screamed at each other for a while until her mother came up and broke us up.
I couldn’t go home, so I just stayed in the kitchen sulking and slowly eating the cookies her mother placed in front of me.
When it was time to leave, Lazhia finally came down and apologized, and we made up, promising to never fight again. And we never did.
Yes, the years went by quickly. Eighth, ninth, tenth. I grew up with her by my side. The first twelve years of my life didn’t matter. I had been reborn when I met her. I was more confident with her around, I was always happier.
We learned how to drive together. I learned fast, and I always followed the rules. She had trouble at first, and when she finally got it, she always went over the speed limit, always going too fast around corners. I told her once or twice to be more careful, but I never pushed it. I guess that’s why I wasn’t surprised when she got in a car accident.
I remember how numb I felt, climbing into the car as my mother drove me to the hospital. Walking down the hall, staring at the back of the doctor until we walked into the room and I was faced with Lazhia.
Her hair was gone, her head wrapped in bandages. Scratches covered her face and arms. Her mother and father stood up immediately, pulling me into a hug, something even my own parents neglected to do when they had heard what happened. I stared at Lazhia’s smile, watching her sleep.
I stayed at the hospital all night, along with her mother. We both sat in the chairs, sometimes watching her, sometimes taking quick naps. I was the one who was awake when she woke up.
She opened her eyes and blinked slowly, then a large, clumsy smile broke out on her face.
“Gina.” She said stupidly. I slowly nodded. “Gina.” She said again, reaching out her hand. I took it in my own two, rubbing the back of her hand.
“What is it, Laz?” I whispered. She just stared at me with blank eyes. I realized then that she was different. The vacant look in her eyes was all that I needed to see.
I had promised to wake up her mother, but I didn’t want the woman to see her child like this. She would see it soon, and I didn’t want to be there. Slowly, I stood up, gently patting Lazhia’s hand back onto the bed, then walking out.
I walked down the hall, not feeling myself moving. I felt dead, even when I walked outside and the crisp winter air hit my face. I started immediately towards the park that we had always loved to fool around in.
Now I sat on the swing as it drifted slowly back and forth, the toe of my boots wearing a path in the snow. I could feel the warmth of my tears against my face, tasting the salt when I licked my lips.
Lazhia died two days later. I guess some part of her didn’t want to live like that, live in an empty corpse.
The next day I learned we were moving, so my father could take a job down in Florida. We were moving before the wake. The days went by so slowly now, I didn’t think they could get slower, but they did.
As we were packing the things into the van, Lazhia’s mother came by. I recognized the old truck immediately as it parked by the side of the road, and the woman slid onto the ground. I stayed frozen where I was, watching as she walked over to me. She stopped a couple inches from me, putting a plate of cookies in my hand.
We stood staring at each other for a long time, and finally she said “I can’t believe I’m losing both of my daughters.”
I’m not sure how she managed not to cry. I’m not sure how I did either. She pulled me into a hug, and I hugged her back, squeezing her hard, not wanting to leave the comfort and safety of her warm bosom. But eventually she let go of me. I clung on a moment longer, then let go slowly, and she trudged back to her car.
I cried as I watched the truck drive away.