Finding My Way Home

I haven't seen Emaline Laurent since Cassie's funeral. She was "buried" in February, which was too soon to give up searching, but Emaline needed closure. She wouldn't speak after Cassie left, a shell with no soul. Her blue eyes turned dull, and all the life drained from her. Cassie's father, Michael Laurent, forced himself to move on for his wife despite his life being shattered. He had to be strong for her. On the day of the funeral Emaline looked like a walking corpse. She had no expression dressed in black. Silent tears fell from her eyes as she looked on. It killed me seeing her like that, she was always bubbly and happy. Cassie inherited that from her mother, and to see her like that was almost unreal.

"I didn't know you visited." Emaline says to me in almost a whisper. She looks so fragile, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Every time I can." I say, unsure if my presence is welcomed.

"She would like that." She smiles looking down at the grave. "She would like that." She repeats once more still looking at the grave.

"How are you and Mr. Laurent?" I ask and almost kick myself. Really Sid? How are you?

"I'm managing, I'm not entirely sure about Mike." Emaline looks up into my eyes one tear spilling over.

"What happened? I don't mean to pry..."

"No that's quite alright. You always were kind. Mike left a few months after the funeral. I suppose he couldn't bear to be in the house much longer..."

"I'm so sorry Emaline. Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask taking a step closer.

"No, there's nothing. Its funny isn't it?" She questions with a fake smile.

"What?"

"It just doesn't seem like she's actually gone. Its like I feel she's everywhere with me." She says with more tears slipping from her eyes.

"I know exactly how you feel. Every time I think that she's really gone for good, something reminds me of her." I reply and her face softens.

"This sounds crazy, but I swear I saw her one day. I was here and I looked up and saw her. She was wearing that damn green beanie she could never throw away. She looked grown up and older than she should have. I got up and tried to run to her but when I got to the spot she was in, it was like no one was there. She just vanished. I keep hoping if I come here, I will see her again." She finishes and my heart stops. She thought she saw her? Should I tell her I think I saw her a month ago, or would that hurt her too much?

"How long ago?" I ask her quietly.

"About three years ago now. Haven't seen her since..." Her voice is hushed and pained. I know I can't tell her. Even if it wasn't Cassie she may feel that Cassie left her, even as weird as that sounds considering she is dead...

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Laurent, but I have to head back to my team..." I say and the disappointment washes over her face.

"Wait! I was in her room and I saw a box with your name on it. I don't know if its yours of if she just wanted you to have it... I didn't open it..." She trails off. A box? I never left a box at her house that's for sure... Do I even want it? I'm trying to move on and there's something that could drag me back down... If I don't get it, I will never know what she may have wanted me to know? My curiosity is instantly sparked. I'm desperate to know what happened to her, maybe this will give me the answers I need to let go....

"I will meet you there." I say and turn my back to walk to the cab. Before walk through the gate I see Emaline kneeling setting the flower next to mine, and brushing her fingertips over the headstone before getting up to leave. I tell the taxi the new address and we set off.

Time seems to stop the minute I turn onto her street. The street I walked so many times with her, laughing and talking. The car stops in front of the house and my breath catches. Everything is the same. The porch still sags slightly, the green and brown paint still have their respective chips. The curtains in the front windows are still the same canary yellow with green flowers. My eyes drift up to her bedroom window. The curtains are drawn, almost as if it begs for somebody to look inside. The lawn and flowers have wilted in the front yard, but the house is the same. The same house where Cassie grew up, the same place she vanished from. Her mother's car pulls into the driveway and she steps out.

"Old memories?" She asks with a smile that isn't as convincing as she hopes.

"Yes." I say and she reaches out and grabs my shoulder giving me a squeeze. She walks up the rickety steps of the porch and unlocks the door. The smell of baked goods wafts through the air as it has in every memory I have. I step in and the couch facing the T.V. is the same place where we watched countless movies. The wall before the stairs has the marks of how tall Cassie was growing over time. The pencil marks accompany dates throughout her childhood. She begins her ascent up the stairs and I follow close behind. The 10th step up creaks as it always has, Cassie always believed her father did it on purpose to keep track of her coming and going. Her bedroom is the second room to the right of the stairs. Her mom hesitates before turning the doorknob and turns to me slightly.

"Mike wanted to box everything and store it in hopes of moving on. I simply couldn't. I haven't moved anything since she left. I was in here last year and I dropped my earing under the bed. I reached down to find it and found the box. I promised myself if I ever saw you I would give it to you. I can't go in there anymore... it hurts too much. I'll wait downstairs. The box is still under the bed." She says before opening the door and walking away.

I step into the room and almost lose it. It smells like her still. The walls are painted dark purple, her favorite color, with white trim. Her furniture is all white. Her queen sized bed sits in the middle of the room against the wall, the dresser to the right of that, a desk next to the door, and shelves lining the walls full of books. We counted her books one day, 312 and counting. Well I guess not any more...The white sheets on her bed are unmade, like the last time she slept in them. Her mom never made the bed. Its like time is frozen in here. Pictures of us are stuck on her mirror. Her closet is open and I see that all too familiar small wardrobe. She said she never needed too many clothes. her favorite pair of converse are sitting on the floor, and her Dr. Who t-shirt is thrown on her chair that accompanies the desk. Her book is open and her notes are sitting with the pen on top of them. Its like she never left. I walk to the rug that we used to lay on and talk next to her bed. I sit down, then stretch out to lay down and look at the ceiling. Her favorite quote is painted on the white ceiling in black paint. "Books are for people who wish they were somewhere else -Mark Twain". Her father was livid when she painted it, but her mom fought for her. I remember one conversation we had in specific while looking up at this quote.

"Sid, are you going to ever forget me?" She asked never looking at me. I turned to face her in shock.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Well someday you are going to be some NHL superstar, and the fame might go to your head." She said smirking.

"You don't know that. What if you forget me first?" I challenged.

"And why would I forget you? Please, you're going to be some hockey god. I'm sure of it, heck its practically written in the stars." She asked sarcastically.

"You may become some famous book writer and forget all about your hockey playing best friend." I joked with her.

"Ah, that, eh? I'll make you a promise. I won't forget you if you don't forget me..." She said finally looking at me.

"Promise? You're not Canadian, so you can't say eh!" I laughed and refocused on the ceiling.

I turn my head and look under the bed at the box. I pull out the decent sized shoebox with my name written on it with sharpie. I just look at the box for several minutes before getting up and walking out of the room, box in tow. I can't bring myself to look back at Cassie and her life behind me. I walk down the stairs and prepare to leave. Mrs. Laurent has tears in her eyes as she pulls me into a hug.

"She would be so proud, you know? She always said you were going to make it big someday. You have to promise me something. Try to move on for your sake and hers ad well. It's what she would want you to do. She can't come back, I know that now after all this time even though I don't want to believe it." She says while holding me tight. My eyes water and I give her one last squeeze. We say goodbye and I head back to the hotel. I am sitting on my bed staring at the box a few feet from me. I try telling myself I don't want to know what's in the box, but fail. I reach out and pull the box onto my lap, opening the lid.