Blood trickled down the plastic yellow slide, originating from the back of William\u2019s head, or what used to be his head.\u00a0 It didn\u2019t drip too fast or too slow.\u00a0 I thought it would spew out more like water from a faucet, but it didn\u2019t seem to have the same consistency as water at all.\u00a0 Mary\u2019s scream rang through my ears, as she stood under the worn down playset we used to play on as kids.\u00a0 Blood had seeped through the circular holes above her, coating her purple blouse and matting her once blonde hair.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Charles rushed up the plastic stairs to William\u2019s body, lifting him off the jagged edges of the broken piece of the green railing, a chunk of his head sticking to the metal pole.\u00a0 Charles shook him twice as if he was just sleeping and he could wake up any minute.\u00a0 I thought people only did that in the movies, but I guess it was a reasonable reaction to watching your best friend being impaled on the top of a play set in the middle of your favorite childhood playground.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know I went home, back to my mom\u2019s house last weekend,\u201d I say, finally facing towards Dr. Kinsale, staring back into her eager grey eyes. \u201cShe made her famous tomato bisque, William, Charles, and I used to eat every Thursday after school as kids. I haven\u2019t had it since before William died, and I couldn\u2019t get myself to take a single bite. All I could think of when I saw it was William\u2019s blood sliding down the park slide. They were the same consistency and both had that red hue. Although they were different shades, the texture was the same.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou went to see your mother.\u00a0 That\u2019s really good Nina,\u201d she exclaims, completely ignoring the fact that I can\u2019t even eat soup without thinking of death as she scribbles something down in her shiny periwinkle journal.\u00a0 \u201cHave you gone to see Carl yet, since the incident?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d I reply, looking away from her. I don\u2019t even bother to correct Charles\u2019s name as I become suddenly fascinated by the dark spill stain on the burnt orange chair I\u2019m sitting on. I\u2019m surprised I\u2019ve never noticed it before, as it looks like an old stain, but it does kind of blend into the vomit colored floral pattern that covers the entire chair. I\u2019m honestly not surprised. Dr. Kinsale\u2019s office is a little gross. Every piece of furniture seems to be something she took off the side of the road after some family decided to upgrade their hand-me-down furniture from their great aunt. Everything in the office seems to have a strange scent as well, like a mixture of the middle school girls\u2019 locker room and the flamingo exhibit at the zoo. The real stench is from the office\u2019s bathrooms. I vowed never to use them here again, as the permanent bright pink and yellow ring around the toilet and strange grayish mold by the sink make me too disgusted to use them. I can\u2019t seem to breathe normally in there, with the pungent scent of piss and shit burning my nostrils from the moment I open the door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s been almost seven months since the incident,\u201d Dr. Kinsale says, bringing my attention back to her.\u00a0 \u201cMaybe seeing people who were friends with William too will help you get through some of these issues you are having.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe incident,\u201d I repeat back to her, letting out a small chuckle, irritated at this whole situation.\u00a0 \u201cJust call it what it is: the death of my best friend.\u00a0 No need to tiptoe around the word death, like it\u2019s gonna hurt me or something.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This is so stupid.\u00a0 I can not believe that I have to sit in this ugly ass chair, and talk to this new-bee therapist about \u201call my issues.\u201d\u00a0 It’s ridiculous, and I have other things I need to be doing, like go grocery shopping or get an extra hour of studying for my final exams next week.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been seeing Dr. Kinsale for about six months, and nothing has changed.\u00a0 I don\u2019t understand why my mother is making me go to this crappy excuse for a therapist and sit in her shithole for an office anyway.\u00a0 I\u2019m fine.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOkay well then we\u2019ll just call it the death then,\u201d she concludes, taking a sip of tea from her coral mug that says good morning beautiful written in gold cursive on the side. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know it\u2019s not morning right?\u201d I ask, nodding my head towards her mug. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh yeah, I know,\u201d she laughs, setting the mug down on her glass coffee table. \u201cNow Nina, let us talk more about this visit to your mother\u2019s house. How did it go?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe talked, ate the bisque, and talked some more. Mostly about trivial things like school and my exams coming up,\u201d I reply, not wanting to talk about my mom anymore. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you ready for them, your exams,\u201d she asks, trying to get me to talk more, as she gets paid no matter what we talk about. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah pretty much. I just study nowadays,\u201d I say flatly, playing with a loose string from the floral armchair. \u201cIt helps me to not think of William. But even then I still seem to only be able to focus on him.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy do you think that is? What is keeping him stuck in your mind all the time,\u201d she asks, sitting up straighter in her chair, notebook and blue inked pen ready to record anything I say. Why does she want to know everything I\u2019m thinking so badly? I mean I\u2019m the reason he\u2019s dead, so I guess that would be interesting to hear about. I pause for a while, debating on whether or not I should actually tell her what\u2019s going on in my mind or not. She may still be a rookie, but she is a therapist. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWilliam is dead because of me,\u201d I say, leaning on the palm of my hand, propping myself up against the ugly chair\u2019s armrest. \u201cI dared him to do do a backflip off of the railing on the playground. I said that if he did then I\u2019d let him take a body shot off me in Vegas over fall break.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh. Well, that was not your fault, Nina. There was no way you would know that he would get hurt, let alone do the dare,\u201d Dr. Kinsale tries to justify, but I know it\u2019s a lie. He wouldn\u2019t have gotten hurt if I didn\u2019t dare him to jump. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWilliam never backs down to a dare, especially one with a prize,\u201d I laugh remembering when the three of us played William and Charles\u2019s version of Truth or Dare back in our second year of high school, but only with dare questions. We probably took it too far with the superglue on the toilet in the teacher\u2019s bathroom, but it was so fun. Charles always came up with the best dares, and William wouldn\u2019t even blink before completing whatever we threw at him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou still couldn\u2019t hav\u2013\u201d she starts but I cut her off. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat does it even matter why or how? He\u2019s dead, okay,\u201d I yell, rubbing my hand along my hairline, letting out a long dragged out-breath. \u201cCan I just go home? I really don\u2019t want to talk today, and I need to study.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour mom wants you here, and is paying me to talk to you until I see that you are progressing,\u201d She replies, gently switching her crossed legs so that the left was now on top of her right leg. I slump down farther in my chair and look back at the stain on the chair. Dr. Kinsale and I fall into a short silence before she decides to ask another question. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLet us talk about what happened just after the death,\u201d she starts, taking another sip of her tea. \u201cWho did you go to for support?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCharles was the first person I turned too, I guess. But we kind of stopped talking after the police got to the scene,\u201d I reply. \u201cThey came after Mary finally stopped screaming and called nine-one-one.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo did you talk to Mary at all about any of this?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGod no,\u201d I reply, nipping that idea in the bud. \u201cCharles and I hated Mary. We could never understand why William liked her so much. It used to just be the three of us before the two of them started dating.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mary was such a mom, always telling William what he could or couldn\u2019t do. She never let him go out for drinks unless she was there, and she tried to get him to not hang out with me because she didn\u2019t like him hanging out with other girls. William used to be the most adventurous of us all before she came around. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCharles and I always had this bet going to see if he\u2019d ever break up with her or if she\u2019d break up with him. Guess we\u2019ll never know now.\u201d It grows silent again, and Dr. Kinsale jots something else down in her notebook. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat about your relationship with Charles,\u201d she asks, changing the topic. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat about it,\u201d I ask, looking back up at her confused. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou keep mentioning him as one of your close friends, but you say you have not spoken with him since the death,\u201d she says, taking her eyes off the notebook to look at me again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCharles probably doesn\u2019t want to talk to me. I mean, he knows it’s my fault that William\u2019s dead,\u201d I start. \u201cI mean I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if he never talked to me again.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI doubt that, Nina. From your description of him, you two seemed close. Why don\u2019t you give him a call and hang out,\u201d she suggests but doesn\u2019t realize that I can\u2019t. Not after William died. I can\u2019t lose another person I love, not Charles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCharles is different,\u201d I say, trying to figure out how to explain my relationship with Charles. He is like my older brother, always looking after me and making fun of me. But so was William. Charles however, has this vibe to him that makes you feel safe and was something that I needed the day William died. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I think back to that day, remembering the blood covering Charles\u2019s arms and chest when he finally stopped shaking William.\u00a0 He looked over to me, his eyes filled with panic then a sudden shift to worry.\u00a0 He rushed to my frozen state, wrapping me in his arms, holding me so that I wouldn\u2019t collapse onto the ground and start sobbing.\u00a0 We stood like that until the cops arrived.\u00a0 He held onto me even while he talked to them on the phone, probably knowing I wouldn\u2019t be able to stand otherwise.\u00a0 I tuned out everything.\u00a0 Mary\u2019s screams, the police asking for my statement, and even Charles after awhile.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy have you not gone to see him or talk to him? It may help you feel better and move on,\u201d she says, bringing me back to the present. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat if I don\u2019t want to move on,\u201d I ask, irritated that she would suggest I forget about William\u2019s death at all. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m not saying you need to forget about what happened. I\u2019m saying move on and live your life; remember his life in a good way, and think of him with happy memories. Talk about his great life with his friend,\u201d she says, gesturing to my cellphone wedged between my thigh and the armrest. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you text him and see what he\u2019s up too?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I look down at my phone, picking it up and scrolling to Charles\u2019s name in my contacts. I laugh at the stupid emojis he put next to his name in my contacts: the baby bottle and the middle finger flashing up at me from the screen make me laugh. He\u2019s so stupid. I click on his name and anxiously type \u201chey\u201d on the screen. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Send. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Will he reply? What will he say? Will he even want to hang out anymore or be friends? I mean we haven\u2019t talked since William\u2019s funeral seven months ago. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere, I texted him,\u201d I say, turning my phone so she can see the screen. \u201cCan I go now?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes,\u201d she says, and I do a double-take. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWait what,\u201d I ask, very confused. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour session for today is over. It\u2019s been an hour. I\u2019ll see you next week, same time,\u201d she asks as if I have an option. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYeah yeah, same time,\u201d I reply grudgingly getting out of my seat.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walk up the steps to the coffee shop Charles and I agreed to meet earlier this week. I can\u2019t believe that I let my therapist talk me into texting him. I didn\u2019t think I would actually be meeting up with him this week; maybe in a month or two I would be ready, but now? What if he doesn\u2019t show up? What if I walk in and he starts yelling at me? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I open the doors and instantly spot Charles\u2019s large frame sitting awkwardly in one of the tiny green chairs at a small table in the corner of the room. Well, he didn\u2019t stand me up. As I get closer, I notice his hair is slightly longer and curlier than it used to be. It\u2019s kind of nice, similar to how William used to do his hair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey Charles,\u201d I say, getting his attention. He snaps his head up from his phone, smiling as his brain registers my face. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey Nina,\u201d he exclaims, popping up from his chair to give me a hug me, almost knocking over his iced chai tea latte. His grip is tight, almost too tight, as he seems stronger than he used to be, but it also feels nice. We eventually let go of each other, both of us falling into an awkward silence as we stare at each other. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo uh, you grew your hair out,\u201d I say, stating the obvious, not sure of what else to say. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, so did you,\u201d he states, gesturing to my own hair. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
We fall back into silence. I shouldn\u2019t have come or even have texted him. I\u2019m such an idiot. He\u2019ll never forgive me for William\u2019s death. I mean how can I even forgive myself? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m seeing a therapist,\u201d I say, trying to start a real conversation. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, you are? How\u2019s that going,\u201d he asks. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHonestly, terrible,\u201d I say, leaning against the table. \u201cI hate going to see her, and the only reason I\u2019m going is because of my mom. She\u2019s been really worried about me since William\u2026\u201d I impede my sentence, seeing Charles visibly tensed at the mention of his name as if he was wincing from my impending strike of the name. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
It grows quiet again. Maybe this wasn\u2019t a good idea. Maybe I should have waited a little longer before confronting what I have done. It\u2019s my fault. He\u2019ll never forgive me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I try to think of some of the exercises Dr. Kinsale told me to do when I get worked up or depressed about William, but I can\u2019t think of any. I honestly don\u2019t know what I would do if Charles doesn\u2019t forgive me or want to be my friend anymore. Well, I guess we would just do what we have been doing for the past six months. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHave you heard from Mary,\u201d he asks randomly, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I pause for a minute, a little shocked by the sudden mention of William\u2019s annoying girlfriend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cUm, no. Have you?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThank God, no,\u201d he says, a hint of the old Charles peeping through the awkward silence. \u201cI was just curious because that means that you owe me twenty bucks.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWait, what,\u201d I ask, very lost in following his train of thought. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cRemember the bet we made, when William and Macy had that big fight about the chalupas,\u201d Charles starts, looking smug as he folds his arms, leaning towards me as if he is about to roast me. \u201cYou said that William wouldn\u2019t break things off with Mary and I bet you twenty dollars that she\u2019d be out of our hair within the next month.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t count. He died; he didn\u2019t end things with Mary,\u201d I reply, denouncing his logic. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, I did say that she\u2019d be out of the friend group, not that he\u2019d break up with her.\u00a0 But I mean, he literally died to get away from her,\u201d Charles exclaims, throwing his arms in the air form emphasis, making me laugh.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, I bet he\u2019s watching us right now, thinking, God if they only knew,\u201d I laugh, remembering my old friend. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d he chuckles. \u201cHe probably is laughing along with us, throwing mad shade at us for talking about our stupid long hair.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, he\u2019s the one who had to die in order to get away from a woman. So he has no room to make fun of us,\u201d I say, snapping my fingers, looking up at the sky as if I was directly sassing William up there. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI mean how badly do you need to break up with a girl to throw yourself off a playground in order to get away. Am I right,\u201d he yells, getting a few strange looks from the other customers in the coffee shop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh my gosh, Charles,\u201d I laugh, not caring that people are staring at us. \u201cBut you are so right. She was that bad. I\u2019d do the same thing if I was stuck in a relationship with that demon.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhether or not he\u2019s in heaven or hell right now, it honestly couldn\u2019t have been worse than dating Mary,\u201d Charles says, taking a sip of his iced latte. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah that laugh was like living in one of Hell\u2019s torture chambers,\u201d I add, shaking my head in laughter. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSee! That\u2019s twenty bucks my-lady,\u201d Charles says, holding out his hand for me to give him his money. I laugh, reaching in my oversized jacket pocket for a twenty-dollar bill. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOkay, fine,\u201d I say, rolling my eyes at his ridiculous antics. \u201cBut only because I hated her and the fact that William always kept his promises.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s right! William was the king of gambling, and the best at making terrible bets against me,\u201d Charles says, as I put a crumpled twenty in his hand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, at least we learned two things from William,\u201d I say, smirking up at my friend. \u201cDon\u2019t make bets against Charles and dating Death is better than dating Mary.\u201d <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By: Sarah Carvajal Blood trickled down the plastic yellow slide, originating from the back of William\u2019s head, or what used to be his head.\u00a0 It didn\u2019t drip too fast or too slow.\u00a0 I thought it would spew out more like water from a faucet, but it didn\u2019t seem to have the same consistency as water… <\/p>\n