The best friend

“Milia Jamson, go clean your room! The guests are coming soon and your room screams laziness!”

With my mother’s words ringing in my ears, I closed my book, thinking about the unread anguished pages and how the characters are dying to know what will happen next. What will happen to them if the story is left untouched and read?

I got up and opened my window, the garden-air filling my room. I then realized how full my room is, but I’m as empty as ever. Why do they have to come today? I dragged myself across the room and started clearing the unwanted boxes that were begging to leave.

Under my bed where the monsters hide during the day, my eyes landed on a little red box. It looked brand new, as if someone had kept it there unnoticed. I grabbed the box by the handle at the side and pulled it towards me, leaving trails of dust that colonized my entire bedroom floor.

It was addressed to me.

It was for me.

“Mom! I found something! Come here!”

No response.

I figured she went out to buy groceries with my dad, which meant that I was at home alone. I shook the box only to hear nothing but the soft sound of whispering, as if the box was telling me a secret that only I should know. With curiosity taking behold of me, I opened the box.

A note and a dried flower.

I picked up the letter and examined it first. It seemed very vintage and aesthetically pleasing, it was as if i went back in time to those days where problems could finally run free without worry holding them back. It was sealed with wax, in the color of royal red and there was a dried rose, a smaller version of the one that’s in the box, that was stuck on the wax. Alas, I opened it, cleared my throat and read it out loud.

Dear Milia,

You are invited to my birthday party! I know that I’ve changed, but you’ll always be my best friend. Come over to my house so that we can binge watch some Netflix after the party. I’ve got some snacks and we can just spend some quality time together. Love you and see you there.

Yours truly,

Katie (06-06-2016).

I felt a frozen smile on my face as I finished reading it. My eyes teemed with tears of happiness and gratitude. Finally, she asked me. I jumped back on my feet and quickly ran down to ask my parents if I could go to Katie’s house. As I entered the kitchen where they were unloading their groceries, I was already hyped up.

“Mom! Dad! Can I go to Katie’s birthday party? She says-”

“Milia-”

“That we can binge watch Netflix and eat snacks-”

“Milia!”

I stopped talking and looked at them with a confused look. Did I say something wrong? I saw my parents exchanging concerned looks as they led me to the living room and convinced me to sit down.

“Honey, are we really doing this again?”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, Katie died a year ago on her birthday.”

“But the box and- and the letter-”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can prove it to you mom. She wrote to me! She asked me if I could go! Today!”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I got up and dragged my mom to my room. Surely she can’t be serious.

“Milia, your room is still a mess.”

I could care less about my room, but what really gave me chills was the little red box that was on my bed. Was gone.

“Milia, I thought we went through this already last year. I understand today’s her birthday but I told you. She’s gone and in a better place, I hope.”

My mom gave one look and turned to leave. Mumbling something as she left. I scanned my chaotic room up and down in search of answers, but failure was all I sought. Somehow, however, everything felt so familiar. Like a memory that I can’t reach. I sat down on my bed, only to feel my heart going cold again. The same rose that Katie gave me lies on my bed. Right in front of me.

This is how my trauma haunts me. Over and over again.