Mockingbird.

The plane ride to Arizona was nerve-wracking for many reasons. Not only could I not get my soon to be encounter with my ex-best friend off my mind, I also couldn’t stop thinking about the dream that caused me to hop on this God-forsaken airplane in the first place. My fears of public transportation were nothing compared to my most recent fear of flying. The strangers sandwiched around me I could handle, it was the fact that I was on a plane that I couldn’t.

I tried to use the same tactics I used in that dream. I set my ear buds in place as I switched on a song by The Maine, trying to let John’s voice sooth me, but it only reminded me of the task that lay ahead. I wanted, no, I needed to make things right with my best friend. I can’t stand the way I left that day, the look on John’s face breaking my heart. So, in lieu of a decent distraction, I allowed my mind to wander back to my last summer with John.

“Mallory. Get your ass out of bed.”

“Go away, John.” I pulled the covers up over my head, cocooning myself in my comforter.

“Rory, you’re graduating today,” he reminded, in hopes of persuading me out of bed.

“Yeah, in like, five hours. I’m going back to sleep,” I informed my best friend, who didn’t give up. Soon I felt a shift in the mattress as John lied down beside me, weaseling his way under my covers as I slowly drifted off once again.

I woke up for the second time that morning to John shaking my shoulders. “What?” I mumbled without opening my eyes.

“Mallory, I let you go back to sleep, but now we’re going to be late if you don’t get that butt out of bed now.” When I remained unmoving John tore the covers away as he tickled my sides.

“John!” I squealed, my eyes snapping open to see his mischievous grin. “John, stop. I’m up, I’m up!”

He slowly retracted his hands from my abdomen as he stood from my bed. “Good. You have twenty minutes before we have to leave.”

“Twenty minutes? Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” I panicked, my eyes darting to my bedside table to confirm John’s statement.

Indeed, I had less than an hour before my graduation ceremony began. Hurrying, I rose from my bed and walked into the bathroom across the hall. I shed my pajama pants and tank top as I waited for the water in the shower to heat up. When it had reached an acceptable temperature-just hot enough to create a blanket of steam around the small room-I stepped under the water, allowing the heat to seep into my bones and fully remove all sleep from my body.

I showered, changed, and met John and my family downstairs in record time. I was far from a girly-girl who took hours getting ready in the morning, but I wasn’t the fastest either. When granted the time to prepare myself at a leisurely pace, I used it.

My mother, who as always, wanted to take a slew of pictures to commemorate this passing event, greeted me at the foot of the stairs. I think she’s the reason I loved photography so much. I had grown up watching her document every family outing, every significant event in her children’s lives. I harbored the need to do the same, to document the world around me, to see in my photographs things that were overlooked at the time the camera went off.

Graduation itself came and went with the customary speeches and awards. Hugs were shared, congratulations wished, and goodbyes uttered. There wasn’t a moment I didn’t feel loved.

I felt as if I had the most supporters on this day. I had my parents and siblings, but also my best friend and his family, my second family. John stood by my side the entire time, even as our other friends, Garrett and Pat, shared in this momentous event, the two of us were inseparable.

I awoke when the thirty-something year old man next to me gently tapped my shoulder. “Miss, we’re here,” he stated simply.

“Thank you.” I scrambled to wipe the sleep from my eyes as I took my oversized carryon out from under the seat in front of me. I waited patiently as the other passengers scrambled to get off of the plane, no doubt anxious to get home to their families on Christmas Eve.

I walked slowly out of the secured area of the airport in search of a car rental. As quickly as possible, I found a not too expensive mid-sized rental and began the half hour drive from Phoenix to Chandler.

I spent the car ride much like the plane trip. I thought mainly about John, again remembering more moments shared with my best friend.

“Rory, you’re coming down to the tree tonight, right?” my best friend asked through the phone.

“I don’t know. My plane leaves early tomorrow morning, I should really stay in.” It was my last day in Arizona. Tomorrow I would be on a plane to New York, ready to start my college days.

We had had a summer to remember. Not one day did I stay inside, even on the rare days that it rained. John and I, as well as our other friends, did everything imaginable. We spent countless hours around John’s pool, lounging in the sun and horsing around in the cool water. John and I camped out by the lake more than once, leaving our houses for days on end to spend time out in the wilderness and on the glassy water.

John was determined to convince me to stay. He pleaded, every chance he could, for me to go to school in Arizona, not New York. He didn’t want us to be separated by any amount of states, not too mention too many miles to count. I understood every argument he made, every scheme he devised, but the truth was that I needed to go to New York. That was where my future was. I wasn’t going to do what I wanted to do here in little old Chandler. I needed the big city, because I harbored a big city dream, even if I was a small town girl.

“Awe. Come on. It’s your last night, you need to spend it with us, with me.” His voice became lower as he finished his thought before picking right back up. “You can sleep on the plane. Please, please, please come tonight,” he begged. I could picture the pout forming on his thin lips and his eyes turning sad. I frowned at the vivid depiction in my mind before smiling at how well I knew John.

“Fine, fine. I’ll meet you outside in a bit.” I hung up without waiting for his reply and set off to change back out of the pajamas I had slipped on moments before my best friend’s phone call.

As promised, I met John on the patch of grass that joined our two yards. His arm was slung over my shoulders as we walked to his old blue pickup. Like the gentleman I knew him to be, John opened the passenger door and held my hand as I made the climb into the high cab. Shutting the door, he rounded the front of the vehicle as I fastened my seatbelt.

John started his ancient truck and pulled out of his driveway, beginning our journey to the outskirts of town. Our care ride was the opposite of quiet, as it always was. We sang along to the tunes spilling out of the stereo, songs so old I barely remembered them.

We arrived at infamous tree on Garrett’s family’s farm. It was an old willow on the perimeter of their property where we had brought lawn chairs and Christmas lights to decorate. Most nights were spent under the walls formed by the leaves and branches of the olden tree. We talked and drank the night away.

At nearly one thirty in the morning I finally convinced John to take me home. He obliged only after I pulled my pouty lips and bashed my eyelashes, the one trick I had learned was my key to anything when it came to John, he couldn’t say ‘no’ when I pulled them from my arsenal.

He drove us home, which took almost twice as long as the ride down for two reasons. One; it was pitch black out now. Two; John as slightly intoxicated, and drove extra carefully down the back roads of Chandler. I had offered to drive us seeing as I hadn’t had nearly as much to drink, but John refused profusely as always. He didn’t let anyone drive his truck, anyone, not to mention I was never allowed to drive us anywhere, even in my own car; driving was his job.

When did finally make it home, John walked me to the door where we shared a parting hug, as was customary for us, but thins hug lasted longer than most. I didn’t protest, as I knew John was realizing that I was actually leaving in the morning was probably hesitant in letting me go. We hadn’t spent much time apart since the day we met, and my moving was putting space between us where their had never been any before.

The hug was different for another reason. When I pulled away, ready to enter the confines of my home, and retire before I was forced to wake and leave for the airport in just a matter of hours, John stopped me, pulling my body back into his for another hug.

I looked up into his eyes, questioning the action but was met with his lips on mine. I didn’t react right away. I stood, frozen. When my brain had processed that my best friend was kissing me, I pulled away.

“W-What was that?” I breathed, my eyes never leaving his, which seemed to dull.

“I, uh. I love you Rory.”

“Y-You what?”

“I’m in love with you Rory. Always have been. Please, please don’t leave tomorrow.” His eyes searched mine earnestly as I tried to wrap my mind around his words.

“Goodnight, John,” I said simply as my eyes dropped from his and I retreated into my home. I watched from the window as John stood there, looking at the wood door I had just disappeared behind. I let a single tear fall down my cheek before I wiped it away and hide in my bed until the morning.

That was the last time I saw John. He didn’t come to the airport with me as we had planned. His parents wouldn’t say anything; I don’t think they knew why he chose to stay home. Everyone questioned where my partner in crime, my other half, my best friend was. Only I knew that we were no longer any of those things.

We were no longer friends; I had ruined that the moment I chose New York over him.

Pulling into the all too familiar cul-de-sac was eerily calming yet nerve-racking at the same time. It seemed as if I had gone back in time, if only that were the truth.

I parked my black, no-name rental by the curb in front of the O’Callaghan residence, not wanting to block their driveway. As I got out of the car I reveled in the chilled Arizona air, much warmer than that of New York City. Walking up the well-known pathway to what was once my second home, I spared a longing glance at the house to it’s right.

I took in the changes, both big and small, that had been made in the two years since my parents moved away. It was still the same charming house, just with a new paint job, a new fence, and a few unfamiliar cars in the driveway.

I tore my eyes away from the house that harbored many of my teenage memories as I stood at the O’Callaghan’s door. I took a long steadying breath before knocking twice and stepping back to wait. Not thirty seconds later, the door crept open to reveal an averaged sized woman with chestnut hair framing her oval face.

“Mallory? Dear, is that you?” she asked after a visible double take.

“Mama O!” I squealed as she pulled me into a tight hug. John’s mother had always been much like my own. I adored her, and she treated me as the daughter she never had. As if I needed any more spoiling.

She led me into the house that smelled of cookies and boys, just like always. “Honey, who was that at the door?” John Senior asked as he rounded the corner from the kitchen. “Mallory?”

“Hey, Pop.” I greeted him by the old nickname my brothers and I had used.

We too, exchanged hugs and pleasantries before John’s mom asked the question on both of their minds. “So, to what do we owe this lovely visit? I’m sure you didn’t fly all the way out here just to see little old us.”

The corners of my mouth twitched into a half smile. “Truthfully, I was getting a bit homesick,” I confessed, leaving out my dire need to reconnect with their eldest son.

We got comfortable in the living room, mom bringing a fresh tray of cookies and hot chocolate, as we caught each other up on the past sixteen months. I told them all about New York, school, my job, even the weather. They were interested in every part.

In turn they updated me on the events in the O’Callaghan brother’s lives. Little Shane was now sixteen and entering the world of dating, while Ross had just turned nineteen and was in his first year at Arizona State University. The eldest, the one I was most interested in hearing about, though I tried not to show it, was home from touring with his band and was working on writing for their next album.

We sat and chatted for an hour or so before we heard the front door open and a voice drift through the entryway. “Ma, whose car is out front?”

“Speak of the devil,” she said to me with a smirk before winking and speaking up to answer the question. “We have a surprise visitor, John.”

“Who is- M-Mallory?” he stammered as he entered the living room.

I simply nodded my head before answering sheepishly, “Hey, John.”

“Who are you?” a female voice asked as she walked out from behind John.

“Oh, Jessica, I didn’t know you were coming over today,” Mrs. O’Callaghan spoke before I had the chance. “This is John’s old friend, Mallory. Mallory, this is Jessica, John’s-”

“Girlfriend. John’s girlfriend,” the girl cut off the introductions with her high-pitched voice, glaring in my direction.

“Well, Jessica. It’s nice to meet you,” I said sweetly before reaching for my purse and turning back to Mama O. “It’s getting late, I should go get checked into the hotel, I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Your not staying in a hotel, not when there’s always room here,” she interjected. I couldn’t help but see John’s eyes widen at his mother’s offer, but shook it off as I replied.

“Only if it’s no trouble. I don’t want to be in the way during your holidays.”

“Sweetie, you used to be over here every Christmas morning at the crack of dawn, if you hadn’t of already spent the night. Why break tradition?”

In the end I ended up staying at the O’Callaghan residence, Ross slept on the couch, giving me his bed for the night. I tried to protest, but he shot me down, I always did have a soft spot for the middle child. I had the most peaceful sleep that I’ve had in months, the familiar scents of Arizona and the O’Callaghan home lulling me to sleep.

I still dreamt of John, only now it was of us reconnecting, as if we had never been apart. It was a wonderful dream. Too bad I had to wake from it in the morning. I woke to the smell of coffee and gingerbread and slowly made my way down the hallway, eyes still closed, but I knew every nook and cranny of this house, even if I’d been away for so long.

So I was surprised when I bumped into something on my way. But people are bound to redecorate once in a while so I opened my eyes to see what had blocked my path and found a tired looking John staring at me. “John. I’m s-sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He simply nodded his head, eyes never leaving mine. “Good morning,” I greeted him quietly.

Again, he simply nodded, not even a ‘hello’, or a ‘you too’. I shook it off as he entered the bathroom across the hall and I continued on to my destination: the living room. As expected, I found a tray of freshly made gingerbread men on the end table and Ross still sound asleep on the sofa.

It was tradition for Mama O to make gingerbread men on Christmas morning and I was surprised the smell hadn’t woken any of her boys. Then again, they were probably used to it by now. With a burst of inspiration, I jumped on Ross to wake him up. When I landed, he let out an ‘oomph’ before peeking an eye open to find the culprit.

I smiled devilishly down at the middle brother and saw a similar one grace his features. “Oh, you’re so getting it!” And I did. His hands found my most ticklish spot, on my sides, easily, and he was relentless.

“R-Ross. Stop. Pl-please,” I pleaded between fits of laughter.

“What’s going on in here?” came another male voice that I faintly recognized, though it had changed some, matured.

“Shane! Help me, your brother is attacking me,” I begged the youngest O’Callaghan.

“And why should I help you?”

“Cause I’m your favorite,” I stated, but it came out more as a question.

He seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding his head, “I guess your right, you are my favorite. Why, oh why did you leave me here with,” he leaned in to whisper the rest, “them.”

I laughed at his playfulness as Ross through a pillow in his direction. “You’re my brother, you’re supposed to be on my side. Uh, Mal? Can you uh, move?” he asked awkwardly.

My eyebrows knitted together as I contemplated his tone, it was almost embarrassed. I didn’t have time to dwell on it as John made his entrance, sitting down on the opposite couch beside Shane. And just like that, all the playfulness left the air as a cloud of tension moved in its place. I’d be foolish to think I was the only one to notice. Ross fidgeted in his seat as he and Shane exchanged glances before looking between John and I and I tried my best not to look in John’s direction as he stared at the fireplace.

“Wow, it’s just like old times, minus your brothers Mallory. Why don’t you kids open your stockings? John and I will be in, in a moment.” Mrs. O’Callaghan said as she passed the living room to most likely go wake John Senior.

And we did just that. I took each stocking down from their hooks on the side of the fireplace, just now noticing my sister and brother’s stockings as well as my own still hung beside the rest, though empty. I smiled at the gesture that said we were still a part of their family.

I passed each boy a stocking, saving John for last. His eyes met mine as I spoke, “Merry Christmas John.” He reached out for the red and white stocking, his hand brushing mine as the goody-filled fabric passed hands, but again he didn’t say a word to me. He hadn’t spoken a single word since he saw me yesterday.

I quickly took my previous set beside Ross as the younger two boys dug through their stockings. My eyes were trained on John, who was unmoving, the stocking still in his hands and his eyes glued to the fireplace in front of him. I willed the tears prickling my eyes not to make them known as I pushed away the hurt John inflicted by acting as if I wasn’t here.

I hadn’t realized I had been zoning out until Ross pulled me from my thoughts by nudging my shoulder. When I looked up to meet his gaze he smiled, “Thank you.” He waved the baseball cap I had brought him in his hands.

“Your welcome,” I answered as a similar smile crept across my lips.

“I feel bad that we don’t have anything for you, dear. If we’d known you were coming we would have gotten you something.” Mama O frowned.

“I don’t need presents. It’s more than enough of a gift just to spend Christmas with you again. I’ve missed this,” I replied truthfully.

“I have something for Mallory,” John stated. My eyes snapped to his as I heard his gravely voice speak for the first time that morning, albeit not directly to me.

Everyone was silent as John stood and disappeared up the stairs. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as we waited for him to return, but I just stared at the stairs that he had just ascended, a million questions running through my mind. When he did return, he held a small manila envelope in his hands.

“I put this together a while ago, I just never sent it to you.” He averted his eyes as he placed the thick envelope in my hands before taking his previous seat next to Shane.

I could tell he was watching me from the corner of his eye, although he wouldn’t look directly at me. I could also sense the silent questions in the air as everyone glanced between us two. I know I wasn’t the only one who noticed John’s aversion to me ever since I had arrived, and no doubt they were questioning his actions now, as was I.

“Well, why don’t you open it? I’m curious to see what Johnny boy got you,” Pop spoke up with an air of hesitation to his voice.

I nodded as I pulled up the metal enclosure before slipping my finger under the flap. I slowly tore the seal and even slower emptied it’s contents on my lap. A slew of papers with John’s familiar handwriting, as well as a few objects, fell out.

I fingered the bracelet I had made him when I was fifteen before seeing the necklace I had given him for his eighteenth birthday. He was giving me back all of the mementos I had given him; I couldn’t help the tears that sprung to my eyes, but I willed them not to fall as I took the worn pages into my hands. There were dozens of them. Fingering through them I saw that they were all dated, they were letters that he had written to me, starting the day after I left.

Ross was looking over my shoulder, anxious to see what his brother had given me as everyone sat in silence. “What are they?” he questioned.

I glanced around the room, from one face to the next before landing on John’s. “They’re letters. Letters that John wrote me after I left.” I kept my face emotionless but could hear the strain in my voice. I glanced back down at the letters in my hand, picking up the one at the bottom of the pile.

It was dated Christmas Eve of the previous year, and it was his final letter. My eyes scanned the page, taking in every word. My heart fell with each one, until I landed on his parting words.



It wasn’t until I read those words that I realized how hopeless it was to come back, how useless it was to think that John didn’t hate me and that we could pick right back up where we left off. And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much I actually loved John, but it was too late. Now two hearts were broken, and there was no sense in hanging around any longer.

I held in the tears as I rose from my seat, clutching every letter tightly in my hand as I made my way back to Ross’ bedroom. I hastily gathered my belongings and changed from my shorts and tank top into jeans and a lose tee shirt. I draped my camera around my neck as I placed my bag on my shoulder and made my way to the exit.

“Mallory, where are you going?” Shane asked as I rounded the corner.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said lowly without a glance in my once second family’s direction. The tears were still held back, though I knew they wouldn’t stay there for long. I rushed to exit the house I once considered a safe haven, a home of sorts, but not without anyone following.

“Mallory, dear. Please stay, its Christmas,” Mrs. O’Callaghan pled.

“Yeah, Mal. Please don’t leave again,” Shane, piped up from behind her.

At his words a single tear escaped down my cheek before I could wipe it away. “I-I have t-to,” I struggled to get the three words out, taking a deep breath I said more clearly, and firmly, “I have to go.”

And just like that, they let me leave. They let me walk down the driveway where us kids used to lounge in the summer or have water wars when we were supposed to be washing one of the cars. Shane and Ross watched from the driveway as I opened the car door. I sent them a small wave and attempted a smile as I took my seat, placing the key in the ignition before starting the vehicle and driving out of my neighborhood, for what would probably be the last time.

That night I found a hotel in Phoenix while I awaited my flight the next morning. When I got back to New York I couldn’t help but feel alone. I had walked away from my second family, not for the first time. My apartment was empty as Angie was still visiting her family in Rhode Island.

Rather than sit around in silence, I decided to do what I do best, wander and take pictures while I do. I put on my winter coat and scarf to ward off the cold and slung my camera around my neck as I exited my apartment.

I walked downtown, taking pictures of people walking through the falling snow, kids playing in the park, a teen couple holding hands while swinging, and a little girl catching the falling snow flakes on her tongue. I took as many pictures as I could before my fingers lost feeling and the cold seeped through my layers, causing me to shiver slightly and decided to head back to my apartment.

I greeted Harry the doorman, like I did every time I entered the downtown apartment building, but this time he stopped me. “Miss, there’s this young man asking for you. He wont leave, says he’s a friend of yours. I didn’t let him in, I wasn’t sure if I should.” He gestured to a bench at next to the stairs leading up to the building.

My eyes followed in the direction he had pointed, landing on a male form huddling in the cold, a suitcase at his feet. I couldn’t help my stomach from dropping and my heartbeat from accelerating at the sight of the man sitting in the cold.

John had come to New York. He hadn’t seen me yet so I walked to stand directly in front of him. “John?”

His head snapped up, eyes meeting mine before he jumped from his seat, standing just feet in away from me. “Rory.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I uh. I came to- Damn it’s cold here, how do you stand it?” he asked.

“Why are you here?” I asked for the second time, ignoring his attempt at humor. I had read every one of his letters on the long plane ride back. I knew how he felt about me leaving, and then some. Most importantly, I knew that he now hated me more than anything, which made me wonder why on Earth he’d fly all the way to New York now.

“I-” His eyes left mine as he focused on something behind me. “I never stopped loving you,” he stated coolly.

“But your letters-”

“I lied.” He said under his breath, his eyes finding my own as he continued. “Well, not exactly. I was angry. You chose to move here over me. You chose your future over me. And I hated that I wasn’t your first choice. I was angry that you left without saying goodbye. I was angry that I didn’t have the balls to go to the airport to see you off. And most importantly, I hated myself for letting you go, without a fight. I never hated you.” He stopped to catch his breath, his hands cupping my face as he said his next words, “I could never hate you. I love you Rory. Always have, always will.”

He let his hands drop from my face as he gave me space to do what he expected me to do, turn away. But I wasn’t going to run away from him again. I couldn’t. Instead, I reached for his hand, intertwining our mitten-covered hands as I pulled them to my chest. Resting our hands against the space closest to my heart, I spoke the words I had never admitted to myself, that I never expected myself to say.

“I love you too, John. Always have, always will.” My lips curled up at the ends as I repeated the very words he had just spoken to me.

He stood unmoving for a moment, searching my eyes. He must have found what he was looking for, because he slowly leaned down to capture my lips in his own, giving me the sweetest, slowest kiss imaginable.

And just like that, I had my best friend back. I had my John back.