Eclat

“I don’t think I can ever express to you how grateful I am, Chris. Truly and wholeheartedly,” I murmured, his arm brushing against mine as we made our way towards Caprice’s grave. I self-consciously slipped the ring on my finger up, then down before returning to its original place. There was no denying the tingles that fluttered in my stomach as he gave me a broad grin, shaking his head infinitesimally as he shielded his eyes from the sun rising behind me.

“Don’t mention it, darlin’. I wanted to go with you.” Before I could say another word, he linked arms with me and we began to sprint towards the grave, our footsteps incredibly loud because of the leaves underneath us. The crunching, grating noise was nearly as overpowering as the sound of our breathing.

Once we reached her grave I came to an abrupt halt, and Chris steadied me with both hands on my shoulders. My face felt warm despite the cool air and I took a deep breath, preparing myself as I read the epitaph. Even now, the words still resounded in my mind with finality and left a bitter feeling in its wake. She had died too soon, too young. Caprice Helena Avery. The was what the first line said, followed by Beloved daughter and friend. The last two lines, suggested by yours truly, caused tears to prick at the corners of my eyes. May angels lead you in. We will meet you again. The tears rolled down my cheeks and I wiped them away hastily, my breathing ragged and fading out into a sequence of hiccups. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering each day what it would be like if she’d never left. If it had been me instead of her. The first year anniversary of Caprice’s death was the worst experience of my life, hands down. Every day was comprised of guilt, anger, and regret if I felt anything but melancholy. I often considered the possibilities that would’ve saved her and I became consumed in my own selfish ponderings, the tight ache in my chest never faltering or ebbing away. Precisely four hundred thirteen days after Caprice had left me us, I took it upon myself to sort through her belongings.

I went into her bedroom, the light blue door beckoning me. I foolishly expected Caprice to walk out, gesture towards the Marilyn Monroe poster on the door, and ask me for the millionth time if I thought Marilyn was “breathtakingly gorgeous.” Every time I would hesitate she would sigh and shrug her shoulders as if it didn’t matter. Then she’d tell me the poster was there for practical purposes. It turned out that the people who had lived in the house before her family had left a baseball sized hole in the door. I knew better than to believe her for a second though as she glanced wistfully at the poster. But on that day, my arm fell to my side as I realized there was no one inhabiting the room. It didn’t curb the uncomfortable feeling that surfaced as I walked in, thinking of myself as an intruder that was breaking and entering. I was thankful that Caprice’s mom was able to help me pack stuff into boxes---clothing, books, plushies, school supplies---as well as reminisced with me when either of us found photographs.

“Here’s another one. You should keep this one, Li,” Caprice’s mom said in awe as she emerged from the closet with a small corkboard. In the other hand, she held a single Polaroid with writing on the reverse side.

“Which one is that?” I looked at her hesitantly as I switched my gaze from the books I was sorting into a box.

She held out the Polaroid for me to take. “See for yourself.”

The Polaroid was blurry and slightly out of focus but I remembered the exact moment when it was taken. It was of me and Caprice at summer camp when we were eleven. We were sticking our tongues out at the camera, popsicles in hand and sunglasses on our faces. Caprice’s face was bright red and mine was too. Those had been such great lazy summer days spent lying on hammocks and stargazing, horseback riding and doing cartwheels while the sprinklers were watering the lawn. We thought we were invincible when we were younger and it wasn’t until I nearly went into a coma after a faulty back handspring and Caprice chipping her tooth after smacking her chin into a Jacuzzi that I realized we were fragile beings. We weren’t immune to pain, temptation, aging, or death. We weren’t as unbreakable as we had once believed.

“Shh. She wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, Doli, and you know it. You’re not weak and you’re going to get through this. Trust me.” His words of solace made me sob even more as I crouched down, not caring that I was sitting in a pile of crushed leaves and who knows what else.

“I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so so so sorry. . .I miss you terribly and if it could’ve been me. . .I---I would never think twice about it.”

I wanted her back desperately and nothing could stitch up the metaphorical wounds her death had inflicted on me. But sadly, nothing lasts forever, not even life or death or anything before and after and in between it all. People say that time and moving on heals the pain but I think that’s a load of bullshit. Why would you want to move on when that meant forgetting about the ones who matter the most? No, thank you. Once I start to forget about her, that’s when I know that eventually she’ll be like the ghost of a memory. Most people want to be remembered and never forgotten and until the day I die, that’s my promise to her.

We were, after all, best friends forever.