You Were There

• Stefan Skokleski, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

I remember when we were kids. I was always the leader of the two of us, and you always followed me around. You were a pretty submissive kid, but I guess that was one of the few traits of yours that was preserved as we grew up. It really didn’t matter if I dragged you into the eye of the storm, because you were always there.
That’s another thing that stayed intact as we grew older.
Throughout high school, when I was being harassed by some of the “cool” kids, you stood up for me. It was the first time you spoke entirely for yourself, I think. You looked like a kitten in a dog pound with the reactions they had. Didn’t really turn out well for either of us; we got home looking like we were hit by trucks. The attacks didn’t last long, lucky for us. But that short period was enough to break us. We couldn’t leave our home, barely even able to leave the safe havens that were our beds, just because of a few kids. We refused to go to school. It left me facing the abyss that is depression, but I turned out all right, because you were always there.
I truly appreciate it. Throughout a majority of our lives, we were like two peas in a pod. We were like brother and sister; always together. From preschool to adulthood, it really was a great friendship. Sounds like a perfect romance, but I don’t think you ever thought about it like that. I was too scared to mention it. But no matter what happened, or how either of us felt, you were always there.
Do you remember the service we went to last year? It was the first time I’ve really cried openly about anything. It felt like a century old dam finally breaking and releasing every single droplet inside. Everyone was dressed in a deep black, including you and I. You looked beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so. I felt drained by the end of the service; I was empty by the time everyone else had left. But it was okay, because you were there with me.
We sat there for hours, with all the emotion torn from my body, leaving a gaping hole in my chest. I eventually stood up and reluctantly walked across the small room and through the double doors at the front of the building, and moved quicker when I realised it was raining outside as well as inside. I sat in the driver’s seat of my car before realising you stayed inside. I knew you’d understand if I left alone, so I started the car and drove off. I was so shaken that I didn’t register the headlights beside me. All I remember was the shriek and screams of destroyed metal and glass, then waking up in a hospital room.
I waited, and I waited, but somewhere inside, I knew you weren’t there.