My clarinet felt cold, but comforting beneath my fingers. Sitting at the edge of the seat, I studied the page carefully before placing the mouthpiece in my mouth and licking the reed. Carefully, I began to play out the song. The tempo was out of mind while I learned the notes. I’ll get this by the end of the year.

“What are you playing?” The high-pitched, drawling voice of my friend Jane brought me out of my focused stupor.

“Oh, uhm, I found a composition of The Flight of the Bumblebee online and I’m trying to learn it.”

“What about the marching pieces?”

“I have them memorized and down.”

“What about the audition piece?”

With a sigh, I carefully placed my clarinet on the seat next to me. “I can’t only play that,” I said with a scowl tainting my face. “Besides, I’ve got that mostly down too.”

“Okay.”

Jane then sat in a free chair next to me and began taking out her clarinet. I picked up mine again and went back to learning the song, mildly uncomfortable with the scrutinizing stare I was receiving as she placed the audition piece on the music stand in front of her. “Play it.”

I blinked a bit and took a look at her music, the writing all over it blurring together with the inked notes. I see she even wrote out the note names by each note, for security. “Okay, I guess.” I played the short piece of music quickly, my fingers expertly darting over the keys at an almost blurred rate. I finished the audition piece with only one minor mistake. “Wow, you’re really good. I wish I was that good.”

“You would be, if you practiced more.”

With a slight scowl, she went back to practicing and I went back to learning my song, losing myself in the ups and downs of the song. Chromatics, leaps, scales, and the repetition lead to the well-known song. The rate at which I was playing it though, left it hard to recognise.

The next day was a nice, cool day. The sky was grey and the clouds covered the sun. It was turning out to be a good day for marching band this evening. As I walked to the practice field with my younger friend, Sarah, Jane and Lauren walked past us. They both glanced at me with snobbish, “I’m mad at you, but I’m not going to tell you why because you should already know why” looks. I looked at Sarah for support and she shrugs, as confused as I am.

I quickly jog over the asphalt practice field to the clarinet water area. I hesitantly approached Jane, wondering what was wrong this time. “Hey, what’s up?” My question was received with a glare and she ignored it completely. With a sigh, I went through the practice with half of the section giving me looks like I had done something terrible.

At the end of the practice, I tried to ask Jane what was wrong, but she avoided me like the plague. I went to our mutual friend, Justine, next. “Hey, Justine.”

“Oh hey Hailey, what’s up?”

“Do you know why Jane is so upset with me?”

“She told me that you were bragging and showing off and ignored her when she asked for help. She also said that you were being annoying and following her around like a lost puppy.”

Unable to respond properly, I thanked her and went to pack my stuff up and go home. Seriously? When did I even do that? Annoyed, I was glad that I didn’t have any classes with her the next day.

After school the following day, I went home with my clarinet in tow. I setup my music and played away my stress. There was something about creating beautiful music that just made me forget everything. I played through the audition piece, then the marching band pieces, then the audition piece again before going to The Flight of the Bumblebee. I looked at it for a bit, thinking about what it could look like to others if they saw me playing it. “They’d probably think that I’m an overachiever trying to show off to everybody, huh?” I mumbled quietly to myself before I picked up that beautiful, old, plastic clarinet of mine and forgot everything again.

I played until my face hurt and the air kept escaping through my nose, making me unable to play on. I liked the freedom playing gave me. I didn’t have to think about how others were going to take things, I didn’t have to think about school, all I had to think about was my clarinet and the music on the page.

The next day at school, Jane was acting perfectly normal. As if nothing happened at all. It pissed me off to no end. This same thing went on for months and, before I knew it, we were in the second semester of our senior year.

I had been distancing myself slowly from people this whole time. I tried to focus on band and classes, not the other students. At this point, Jane had become unbearable. More often than not, she was angry at me for ridiculous things that weren’t true and had the snobby, popular half of the clarinet section on her side. As this continued to go on, I turned to my clarinet more and more.

I just wanted to forget everything and leave it all behind. My clarinet was my comfort, my friend who never let me down (until he got exhausted and loosened a screw or lost a pad). He helped me destress and not care about pointless things. My go-to song this whole year had been The Flight of the Bumblebee. I was getting a lot better at it. I could play it at half tempo now and was feeling proud of it. I would think of it whenever I became frustrated.

On another day of school, I felt singled out by Jane and her new posse. She was even taking Justine away from me. I went to my clarinet during study hall and played my heart out. I then decided to completely ignore them. “Who cares what they think? As long as I am proud of myself, it’s the only thing that matters. Me,” I said to the empty little practice room. With this new decision, I played louder, faster, and harder than before. I felt liberated. Later that day, I realised it wasn’t as easy as it sounded in the moment I said it. Jane had, after all, been my “friend” for 7 years. It’s not very easy to step down from that.

From then on, I gradually stopped going to our morning hangout sessions. I stopped going out of my way to talk to Jane, even though I felt like I should be still talking to her. I didn’t sit with her at lunch, only talked about necessary things in Biology and Band, and I stopped texting her altogether. I dropped a major part of my life so suddenly, I really didn’t know how to do it properly.

Sitting in the band room with my clarinet to my lips, I felt awkward and lonely. I could see Jane and Justine at the other end of the band room. They were laughing and practicing the audition pieces together. My heart sank and I sighed at the emptiness I was trying to ignore. I turned to my clarinet again, the comforting cold of the metal and the sweet taste of a new reed. I played some of the audition scales to warm up and messed around with some of the pieces in my folders. Sarah came up to me and sat next to me, setting up her clarinet as well. She and I talked and laughed.

“So, how is it going with the audition stuff?” I probed.

“Well, it’s going okay, I guess. I could use a little help here though, I am not sure how to make it work. The fingerings are just so weird.”

“Well, if you do this…” I show her a new fingering. “It will be basically the same note, just a little sharp. So, with this speed of a song, it doesn’t matter and helps with the awkwardness a bit.”

She thanked me and tried it out, repeating the jump between notes a few times before putting it into the whole piece. We worked next to each other and continued our playing. After a while, I realized that I didn’t care what Jane was doing anymore. Not for today, anyway. I was okay with the fact that I can have other friends, aside from those who are tied with Jane as well.

Things slowly started to become less stressful. She stopped being mad at me after a few months. Near the end of the year, She and I were acquaintances. It felt good. I couldn’t stand talking to her before, but now I was okay with her. We could coexist and not piss each other off.

After I graduated, I completely stopped talking to her. We had moved on, maybe even grown up. My clarinet had done its job. I stopped playing after a while, focusing on work and enjoying my summer before college started in the fall. Band just became a pleasant memory, senior year a blur of bad which morphed into good. I decided that I didn’t care about other people’s opinions and views of me. That was amazing, I changed. Honestly, I noticed people liked me more. I dropped all of my highschool friends aside from 3 girls that were a year older than me. I turned away and never really looked back at high school, not with longing or regret, anyway. My clarinet still sits, tucked away in its case, in my room. Sometimes I pick it up again to play away the stress. I’m still pretty good at playing The Flight of the Bumblebee.

tinytomato98: Hi daddy!

[moostang73 is typing…]

I was always a very energetic and probably annoying kid at school. However, I was less that at home, more hesitant and meek. Every family gathering with my dad's side of the family consisted of me clinging to my dad, quietly sitting on his knee while the adults talked.

“Why don't you go play with your cousins, Hailey?” Momma would quietly ask. I’d shake my head, not feeling like I fit in. I was much more content, sitting quietly on daddy's knee, listening to what the adults were saying.

When my mother would make me go play with my cousins, I would feel like they didn’t really like me. We would play with our little stuffed animals or toys, making conversations. My two cousins never really seemed really into it.

“I’ll take these two and you guys can have these ones. They can all be friends and stuff.” I would pick up my little arabian horse Webkinz and the chihuahua Webkinz. “This is S’mores and she is Chloe.”

My cousin, Chloe, picked up her two Webkinz: one was a monkey and the other was a white cat. “Uhm, I’ll call him Bananas and this one … uhm, this one will be … Kitty,” Chloe said in a voice that I could tell meant she really didn’t care and was only doing this because her parents probably told her to include me.

“Okay, then I will name this one Billy and this other one Isabella,” our older cousin, McKenzie, said. She had two Webkinz: a German shepherd and a white mouse. She seemed interested, but I never thought that she was really into it. I felt that she was just playing with the two of us because we were the only other girls.

We would play like this for a while until Chloe would get bored and we couldn’t agree on what to do next. We’d argue for a while, Chloe seemingly targeting me and McKenzie trying to calm the flames.

“You always pick and you pick really dumb things.”

My eyes started watering, “You guys agreed to play it…”

“Why does it always have to be animals this and animals that?”

“Chloe…”

“I’m tired of playing with you and your dumb toys,” Chloe threw my stuffed animals across the room. With a quiet sound of concern for my Webkinz, I hurriedly gathered them up into a bag, wiped my eyes, and went silently out to my dad again. I sat with him, face blank as I escaped into the boring adult talk, safe on his knee.

moostang73: hello. How was your day?

tinytomato98: you type slow, daddy. Well…

The day my daddy left for Iraq was rough. The light blue sky was clear and the sun beat down on us hard. The drive down to camp Atterbury was a long and quiet one. My brother and I just stared out our windows and my momma clung to daddy’s hand. The radio blabbed and sung but got caught in the sad thickness in the air.

We got to Atterbury and the air was full of the same feeling we were experiencing. The whole 1538th unit and their families were gathered, hugging and crying. We alternated between sitting on the uncomfortable metal folding chairs and talking to other families. The whole time, I was clinging to my daddy’s arm. We waited for the moment when we had to leave him, uncomfortably longing for him to be able to stay. When it came time for the men to go to formation before leaving, I gave my daddy one of my beanie babies, a little horse that was clearly well-loved.

“Here daddy, take Fillie with you…”

My daddy kneeled down and held my hands around Fillie, “Are you sure? I know how much she means to you.”

I nodded with tears in my eyes. He smiled at me and took her from my hands, holding her gently before tucking her safely into his pocket. I hugged daddy and cried, “It’s so.. It’s so you don’t forget me…”

With a soft, sad laugh, my momma gently pulls me away from my daddy. “There’s no way he would ever do that, sissy.” Momma holds me and Nick close while we watch daddy give her a quick kiss before they exchange their “I love yous” and he goes off to his formation.

We sat in those stupid metal chairs for another hour afterwards while the people in charge were talking about something I don’t remember.

tinytomato98: my tailbone hurts, I think the chairs from when we dropped you off bruised me.

[moostang73 is typing…]

tinytomato98: mom doesn’t believe me

…

[moostang73: is typing…]

moostang73: I’m sorry

[moostang73: is typing…]

tinytomato98: I miss you daddy…

That Christmas was a weird one. I had never had a Christmas that was so melancholy. I didn’t want to get out of bed that morning. I was usually bounding downstairs and waiting excitedly for everyone else to wake up, but I didn’t want to go down. I knew that I would wait and daddy wouldn’t be there.

“Sissy! Are you coming?”

“Yeah, mom! One second!”

I lay there for a bit longer before climbing out of bed and putting on my pink onesie with froggies on it. I sigh and walk up the stairs and out of the basement, making my way to the living room. The lights of the Christmas tree were bright and cheerie, making me feel almost angry. I walked in and Nick and momma were waiting for me. Our dog, Mac, was excitedly running around and sniffing the presents. Nick grabbed him when he went to paw at one of our presents.

“Come on, Hailey. We are waiting on you,” Nick said while holding Mac.

I sat down and my momma directed us to which presents were ours. There was a large, cylindrical one that she said was mine. We took turns opening presents as usual and I went for the cylinder first. As I peeled the paper off slowly, peeling off the tape as to rip the paper as little as possible, I saw a plastic bag with a blanket in it. As I finished unwrapping it, I saw that it was a blanket with a tiger on it. The tiger looked like it was walking towards me.

When we finished opening up all of our presents, I took the blanket out of the bag and laid it out. It filled most of the living room and was sooooooo soft. I couldn’t believe how awesome it was. “Your daddy got that for you, he thought you would like it,” momma said to me while I rolled around on the blanket. I smiled and made myself into a burrito in the blanket, cuddling into the gift from my daddy.

moostang73: how was school?

tinytomato98: not great…

tinytomato98: I started crying for no reason in the middle of class…

[moostang73 is typing…]

tinytomato98: I had to move to the back of the class while everyone else listened to the math lesson

[moostang73 is typing…]

tinytomato98: Ms. K came over and comforted me after giving everyone some assignments to work on in groups and helped me calm down.

moostang73: im sorry. I’ll be home in a few months

tinytomato98: I miss you…

My dad was always a quiet guy (my friends now describe him as “mousey”) but he was hilarious. We would be sitting there having a conversation and then he would say something weird and get some odd looks or laughs. I loved this. When my momma and brother went to bed sometimes, daddy and I would stay up watching random old cowboy movies. I would sit next to him and try to curl up to him until he told me to scoot over.

“Scoot over.”

“But daddy, I wanna cuddle…”

“Cuddle with Mac?”

I look at the dog and call him over. He jumps up and shoves his face at me to pet him. He let me pet him for a while until he got bored and decided to go play with his toys. I sighed and continued to watch the movie, satisfied for now with just being next to daddy.

tinytomato98: the house is really quiet

moostang73: isn’t your brother home?

tinytomato98: yeah, well it feels quiet anyway

tinytomato98: like something is missing

[moostang73 is typing…]

tinytomato98: i think it’s because you aren’t here to make your funny comments

moostang73: I thought Mac would fill that hole

When daddy came home, it was so weird how it felt. I was super excited to see him again, but I worried that maybe he would be different. Though I wasn’t completely sure about how war can affect someone, I knew it could. We waited in the airport with my aunt and cousins, all of us holding signs to welcome my daddy home.

As soon as we saw him come in, my momma ran to him and threw her arms around him. My brother and I followed close behind her. I clung to my daddy and cried happily, knowing my daddy was finally home again, to stay.

We got home to Mac wondering who daddy was, he apparently forgot about him. “I’m here to rob the place, Mac.” My daddy said as he set down his bags and took off his boots. We chuckled and went to spend time with each other, watching Chopped on tv.

The house felt nice now that the silence is filled and I don’t have to wait for my daddy to respond. No more “moostang73 is typing…”

You never think about how many decisions you make

in one day,

in your lifetime.

Each day begins with one,

Should I get my tired rear out of bed?

You make decisions about food,

bathing, what to wear,

when to leave.

Only a fraction of the decisions are obvious.

Even now,

Do I keep interested in this poem?

My decisions have been difficult.

Do I continue towards becoming a veterinarian,

as I have always dreamed?

or

Do I follow my newfound passion for Japanese

and teach?

Some decisions aren’t as trivial,

aren’t as common.

Do I love this wonderful man

that calls me his woman?

or

Am I just infatuated with the idea

of being with someone who treats me like a queen?

Even after larger decisions have been made,

the endless cycle continues.

Like water moving up and down and up again,

the decisions fluctuate

from small to large to small again.

Should I read some more?

I’ve never realised the

monstrosity of decisions we make

every day, every year,

in our lives.

Daddy.

You’re my best friend,

always there for me.

With you,

I always get my way.

The war took you

away from me.

My hero, lost.

I dream about you

coming home to me.

Mom isn’t doing

very well without you.

Her smile is strained,

trying for brother and me.

You were our rock,

our hero and comfort.

Your dad jokes will never be topped.

I miss you daddy.

I wish you could come home to us.

To me.

Today, my brain forgot to tell my lungs to breathe.

My world has shifted for you, my dear.

A new day has begun.

You say you’re changing too

and much too quickly for your tastes.

Why don’t we just take things

slow? We lose ourselves too often

and doubt too much.

Let’s enjoy the now.

The feelings we have are real.

You pamper me

while I do my best to make you so happy

that your toes curl;

that your brain forgets

to tell your lungs to breathe.

Though we lose ourselves

in the moments,

let’s enjoy what we have.

I want every day

to be like today.

I want my brain

to forget to tell my lungs to breathe.

Lies.

They’re a fickle thing.

Why do we lie

to the ones we love?

My problem was

overwhelmingly evident.

I thought I would always have you.

Your purring at night was a comfort.

You were my best friend,

one who didn’t care about

all those little lies

that spewed from my young mouth.

I didn’t take the candy.

I didn’t leave the dog out.

Little things.

I thought your fur

would always consume my fingers.

The red-browns, blacks, and whites.

Fluff-ball cat, you lazed around.

You always let me play.

I never knew my lies

would hurt you,

or anyone.

Let alone,

myself.

I should have accepted responsibility

for the dumb actions of my young self.

Instead,

I blamed you.

My poor friend,

you were sent away in a cage

to be put in another.

Because of me.

From then,

my lies hurt myself

more than anyone else.

Every little lie was a reminder

of you.

Over time, Callie,

my lies shifted.

They became things for

good.

I would lie

to protect someone else.

My brother, my friend,

anyone my slightly older mind

thought needed “help.”

As time passed,

my lies faded

into the fog of my memories.

The temptation still arises

from time-to-time.

Then I remember

you.

Your memory

erases the temptation.

~Winter~

Driving through the blizzard was risky, I know, but I needed to check on my sister. She just cut off in the middle of our call and it made me worry. The roads seemed deserted as I drove into the city, which made me wonder if I was even on the road anymore. The going was slow; visibility was practically nonexistent in the total white-out.

I stumbled upon stopped cars, just sitting in the middle of the roads. A few were still running, but all of them were empty. As I came to a block in the road, too many cars were in the way for me to be able to drive. I still had a few blocks left to get to my sister’s apartment building, so I made sure I was bundled up and turned off my car before getting out into the snowy tempest.

I walked as quickly as I could, trying to look away from the wind so the biting cold wouldn’t steal my breath. The snow was deep, far deeper than I’ve ever seen on the sidewalks of a major city. I trudged through the thigh high snow drifts to the apartment building. Upon reaching the ice covered building, I struggled to dig out enough space in the snow to open and fit through the door. Despite my gloves being between me and the biting powder, my fingers soon grew cold and numb.

I eventually managed to pry open the door enough to get in and hurriedly closed the door behind myself as I rushed into the warmth of the lobby. The sudden burst of colours startled me, my eyes weren’t used to seeing anything but white. I looked over the lightly decorated lobby and peeked behind the counter. Finding it deserted, I shrugged and marched up the single flight of 12 stairs and down the hall. I passed four of the identical maroon doors, their golden numbers being their only claim to individuality.

Number 5. That’s her door, old maroon paint just like the others. The number 5 sat proudly above the peephole. I took a deep breath as I gathered up my courage to knock on the door, I didn’t know what could’ve made Carmine just suddenly stop talking without a sound. I knock on the door and wait.

Nothing.

Absolutely no sound. The entire building was silent, as if waiting for something big to happen. I hadn’t noticed it before and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. I knocked again, the sound filling the empty space uncomfortably.

When I couldn’t stand waiting any longer, after what felt like hours, I tried the door. Locked. Good, Carmine was remembering to keep the door locked. But unfortunate for me, I had no idea how to get in to check on her.

I stood there for a bit, thinking as the faint sound of wind and snow could be heard outside the window at the far end of the beige and maroon hall. I took a paperclip out of my pocket and, after wondering why it was in my pocket, tried to pick the lock. After a few minutes of futile jabbing at the lock, I gave up and slumped against the door.

I winced as something hit my head and clang to the floor. The sound made me jump as it tore through the silence. I looked on the floor to my left and blinked a bit at my luck. On the dark wooden floor lay a shiny silver key. It sat there as if laughing at my previous attempts at getting in. I picked up the cold metal and stuck it in the lock.

Finally able to get into the apartment, I walked in hesitantly. I made sure to pocket the key and lock the door behind myself before walking further into my sister’s home. I walked past the lit kitchen and was startled to see the black remnants of something burnt in a pot on the stove, still cooking. I turned it off and marveled at how the food didn’t start a fire.

“You really shouldn’t forget about food on the stove, Carmine,” I hollered into the silence.

Nothing. Not a single peep.

With a deep sigh, I walked out of the little kitchen and into the narrow hallway that lead to the living room and Carmine’s bedroom. I checked the empty bedroom on my way to the living room. I knew she’d be there, passed out on the couch with the TV on some show on Animal Planet. I walked into the room with a smile which quickly melted off of my face. It was empty, though the TV was indeed on Animal Planet.

I reached over and turned the TV off with a scowl as I looked around. I found her cell phone laying on the couch. She never went anywhere without her phone, where could she be? I began a more thorough search of her apartment and an hour later came up empty and with no answers.

After checking to make sure everything was powered off and her apartment was dark and locked up, I made my way back to the stairs. As I passed apartment number 3, I noticed something on the floor in front of the door. It was a little silver key that was identical in almost every way to my sister’s key. I reached up and placed it on top of the door frame, wondering why the owner dropped it on the floor.

I ran down the 12 stairs and into the deserted lobby again. I took out my phone to call the police, scowling as I saw that I had no service. Thinking it must be the storm, I tightened my layers and prepared to brave the raging blizzard once more.

After a while of struggling with the door, I was able to escape into the cold that nipped viciously at my nose and ears. I looked around a bit and couldn’t see my prints in the snow anymore. With a sigh, I tread a new trail through the fluffy drifts of white powder. The police station was a block back the way I came. The storm seemed frustrated and bitter with me as I tried to travel during its fit.

I finally reached the police station and was thankful that the entrance was clear, where the wind couldn’t reach it. I walked in and was amazed to find it empty. Not a single person was in the station. Papers were strewn across desks as if people were in the middle of working and phones lay randomly on the desks and chairs, needing to be hung up still.

~Spring~

The world is empty. Not a soul. Nowhere. I’m alone, utterly alone.

I’ve checked every major city that I could drive to, it’s all the same. Lights are on, cars are just stopped in the middle of roads or in ditches. Every house, every building, every street is deserted. It has been months since the first day that everyone disappeared and I’m alone.

The solitude is maddening. I try to think of what could’ve happened, but it only makes it worse. Was it the rapture? The end of the world? Aliens? Some new bio weapon?

There’s not a single trace of tangible evidence. The animals seem to have disappeared as well. It’s only the plants and me left. It’s too quiet. I try to listen to music but it just can’t drown out the deafening silence.

I don’t know how much longer I can last in this. There’s no point to life now that I’m alone. Nobody to live for, nothing to do that could better my existence.

Last night I found a pistol and some rounds and have been carrying it around ever since. I keep telling myself that I got it for self defence but did I really? What is there to defend myself from? The oxygen in the air? The trees?

I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to stand this. I’m home again. It feels so empty, my son is no longer here. I wonder if everyone will come back.

No. I’m alone.

I just found a photo album. My son’s birthdays, his first day of kindergarten, his first time riding a bike without training wheels, all wonderful memories. I look up and see his empty room. The momentary feeling of happiness is instantly crushed.

I feel so alone. I long to be with my son again. Did he die? Did all of the population die?

I can’t stand it any longer!

If anybody finds this journal, tell my son that I love him.