2019: This is an original short story that won a Scholastic Honorable Mentions the regional level. This a story that expresses the pain and story of losing someone because of a horrible situation where you feel like they shouldn’t be gone, that they should still be with us today. This is a story of how to heal.
In Order To Heal
It had been a month since Lilac Stevens died. Beautiful winter skies blurred into tears and shadows for the whole town. Even early spring flowers blossoming on trees couldn’t seem to brighten the eternal night. School had become half assed by everyone including the teachers. Speeches about who we could talk to filled the space in between sleep and work. She had touched all of us, even those she barely knew. Even me.
I ease open the cracked wooden door, hand gently pressed against the warm handle. The smell of spices hits me like a wave as soon as I step inside the house. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes with a smile.
“Mom, I’m home,” I shout down the hall, kicking off my boots. My bare feet meet the soft carpet gratefully after a day of walking from dreery class to class. A head of frizzy yellow hair pops out from around the corner, and just for a second I see the same cloudy look that I find fixed on everyone else before it quickly changes back to the normal glowing face of my mom.
“Hey Stacy! How was school?” I shrug, walking past her into the kitchen where I set down my bag and hop on a stool by the counter.
“The same.” She follows me and leans against the granite, concern crossing her face.
“Still no homework?” I shake my head, causing her brows to furrow. Standing up, she grabs a spoon covered in some type of orange sauce and sticks it back into a steaming pot.
“I think they should keep you guys busy. Is that just me? I mean, it might be better if things go a little back to normal.”
“And just forget it ever happened?” I hadn’t even known Lilac that well, but it didn’t seem right just to gloss over her death. Not like our school was heading in that direction anytime soon. Pictures of her wide smile framed in dark hair staring out of posters have been almost following us around the halls. My mom gives me a look.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” I sigh and push myself from my seat.
“I’m going to go hang out up stairs, ok?” Not like there’s much else to do.
She quickly nods her head and gives me a distracted smile as she goes back to whatever concoction she’s trying to mimic. Probably something she saw on TV.
“Oh, and Stacy?” I turn back to her. “You’re air conditioning has been acting weird so I just turned it off. If it’s too hot up there feel free to turn it back on. It might have just needed to reset.” I nod and head upstairs, stuffing my hands in my jacket pockets. As I turn the corner to flop right onto my bed, I find my bedroom door closed.
“That’s weird,” I mutter. Mom probably did it. But as I open the door, I stop in my tracks like I walked into a wall. A girl with wavy black hair is looking out the window, a tiny sliver of skin showing from under her white crop top. Her head turns towards me when she hears my gasp, her big green eyes making contact with mine, freckled cheeks turning red.
Her brows narrow in confusion as she says, “Can you… see me?” That’s when the blood drains from my face, nausea in my stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Nothing about this can be real. Because the girl sitting on my windowsill is dead. The girl on my window sill is Lilac Stevens.
~~~
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she’s telling me. I look up from where I half collapsed to the floor, still processing that this is real. Of course I still feel like I’m going to throw up, but at least I stopped having black spots on my vision.
“It’s just, I didn’t think you would actually… you know, see me.” I nod absentmindedly, looking at a spot just next to her head. She rubs her hands on her pants nervously. “I’ve gone everywhere I could think of. Even my mom thought I was just air coming from an open window.” She chances a glance at me, then looks back down at her lap.
“I don’t know what to do,” she says in a quiet voice. For the first time since I walked in I look at her square in the face.
“Why can’t you leave?” She gives me a startled look. “I mean,” I continue, quickly changing the tone of my voice, “Don’t you go to the afterlife or something once you die? It’s not like I see any other ghosts around town.”
She shakes her head, curls bouncing across her face. “I’m not allowed yet.”
“What do you mean ‘not allowed?’”
Swallowing, she sticks her hand into her jean pocket and pulls out a folded square piece of paper. For a moment we just stares at it, a silence spreading across the room louder than death. Finally she lets out a breath and looks back up at me.
“I know this is a lot to ask of you, and, trust me, you weren’t my first choice.” I nod, understanding. This is the longest conversation I’ve ever managed to have with the most popular girl in school. “But I don’t have any other options.” She extends the paper to me, holding it in the air as softly as a whispered secret until I finally take it. The words blur as my shaky hands open the folded sides. Slowly, I manage to read the list to myself, realization flooding through me.
“You want me to do these things, don’t you?” I lift my head to look back into her stunning eyes. A small nod is all I need to confirm my fears. “I’ve never even talked to these people!” And I most definitely had not been planning on it. Ever.
“I know, I know,” she says, rubbing her hands on her pants again. A desperate look covers her usually happy face. My heart pangs and I force myself to look away. Logic starts to scream at emotions, but the war is already won.
“If I do these things, you get to move on.” I say slowly and I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. I sigh and close my eyes. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
~~~
I barely listen to my science teacher drone on about chemical reactions, the enthusiasm in her face not quite reaching her voice. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest and run away from me completely. I had gone over what I was going to say with Lilac this morning, my mom giving me a strange look when I told her I had been talking with someone on the phone as I left the house. It had seemed so reachable then, especially in comparison to everything else I had to do, but now it seemed hopeless.
I could see Conner from where I was sitting, his perfect gold hair covering a bored expression. Class was almost over, meaning it was almost time to check number one off a dead girl’s list.
Oh god.
The bell rings and the dread multiplies. I’m not exactly the most extroverted person, let alone someone who walks up to the hottest guy in our school to make conversation of more than two words.
Robotically I stand up, forcing myself to slip my bag on and walk towards him. Unlike me, strides easily out of the class flanked by his friends. I imagine shoving fear down to my feet and walk faster to catch him. I hold my breath against his awful cologne and, not thinking of a better way to get his attention, I tap him on the shoulder. He quickly turns around, one eyebrow arching up as he meets my gaze.
“Hi.” Ew. I hate how much my voice shakes. “Can I, um, talk to you for a sec?” He looks me up and down and I feel myself turning red. Sighing, he shrugs, as though not thinking of anything better to do, and waves for his friends to go on without him.
“What’s up, um…”
“Stacy,” I finish for him. He nods and I can tell he is making a mental contact in his head. Stacy: weird blonde girl in my science class. I wring my hands and my thoughts go back to hopeful Lilac. She’s depending on me. I can do this.
“Lilac is — was — your girlfriend, right?” He stiffens but nods. “Um, well…” I trail off when I see he’s no longer looking at me. I frown and look over my shoulder. And that’s when it clicks.
A girl with red hair is walking down the hall, sunny smile stretching across her face, laughing at something her friend is saying.
I turn back to him and whisper, “You like her don’t you?” The dreamy look in his eyes is quickly iced out. He looks away from her, finding something very interesting on the floor to look at. Then, realizing that that’s not what a star lacrosse player does, he meets my eyes and scoffs. It has to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Why would I like Kat? Especially now.” His face turns pink and I feel myself relax.
“It’s been a month, Conner,” I hear myself say. “We can’t hold on forever. She’s not coming back.” Tears fill his eyes and he looks back at the floor. “I’m not saying forget her. We need to keep her memory alive, but in order to do that we need to keep living. We need to live for her.” He turns his gaze back up to me.
“I didn’t know you knew her so well,” he manages.
“I didn’t.” I walk down the hall, feeling his eyes following me.
~~~
Rain splatters loudly on my windshield, wipers pushing the water out of the way as fast as they can. I glance at my dashboard, confirming which turn to take. Her neighborhood looks even more menacing covered in shadows as I crane my neck to try and see her house at the end of the street. It grows in my sight, white brick standing out against the other grand houses. I had already used my courage on a teen boy today, I could do it girl to girl, right?
Pulling into their driveway, I see that there is only one car home, fairly new by the looks of it, bathed in light from one of the house’s windows. I quickly put the car in park and step out into the rain storm before I can second guess myself. Feeling my pocket to make sure the small trinket she gave me is still there, I mount the front steps. Jamming my finger into the doorbell I take in the large, pearl door standing in front of me. It seems to taunt me, trying to tell me that it will never open, not for a stranger like me. But, like all the other events from the last month, it surprises me.
A small woman appears from the warmth of the house, brown hair knotted at the top of her head. Her features are so different from her daughter’s I would never had thought they were related if it weren’t for her eyes. Deep green.
She looks up at me warily and asks, “Can I help you, sweetie?” Her voice sounds exactly like I remember from the funeral; sweet, like honey, but sad. So sad.
“Yes ‘mam,” I reply, standing up a little straighter. “My name is Stacy Long. I am — was — a friend of you daughter. Can I come in for a minute?”
She nods understandingly, stepping aside to let me pass. Not bothering to take off my shoes, I turn so I’m square to her.
“Lilac gave me something before… um, before she passed,” I stumble. “I think it’s right if you have it.” I pull out the small key, the metal warm in my palm. Gesturing for her to take it, shock straightens her tired body. She jerks her hand forward and grabs it, having eyes only for the key. After a moment I say, “Do you mind me asking what it’s for, ‘mam?” Her heads jerks up remembering I’m still here.
“Follow me,” is all she says before turning on her heel and walking towards the staircase. I hesitate for a moment, then slide off my shoes and follow her quick steps. Their house is stunning, marble hiding beneath the lush carpeting so thick that my feet sink. Compared to my house, the upstairs is like a labyrinth, making me almost jog to keep up with Mrs. Stevens so I won’t get lost. We stop infront of a gold door that she opens with such gentleness you would think it was a small animal, and she quietly steps inside.
As I follow, my breath is taken away. A queen bed covers one wall, colorful sheets popping against the soft paint. To my right, an intricate mirror hangs over a cluttered desk. Clothes are scattered everywhere, the window still open after all these weeks. If I’m being honest, I never once thought that Lilac’s room would be this messy.
Mrs. Stevens briskly crosses the room then kneels down and reaches under the bed. I awkwardly stand in the doorway, unsure if she wants me to join her on the floor and help or if she’s forgotten my existence again. When she reappears, a wooden box is cradled in her arms. Setting it down on the bed, she wedges the key in, opening the top with a click. Curiosity takes over and I half jump over to her side to see the box’s contents.
Pictures. Dozens and dozens of pictures. I can see Mrs. Stevens reach into it with shaking hands as she gazes into her daughter’s eyes. Hoping it’s ok, I do the same, pulling out one of Lilac and Conner from Homecoming. They’re both beaming at the camera, looking like it’s the best day of their lives. I turn it over and see messy handwriting labeling the lost memory with dates and a note.
Homecoming 2019 – We danced until our feet hurt. Love you, Conner.
I pull out another of Lilac and her friends, all bundled in so scarves and jackets that you can barely see their faces, but somehow you know that they’re laughing underneath the cloth. This one is a little older, the handwriting telling me 2016. Freshman year.
I’m not sure why the next one catches my eye. Later I’ll think maybe Lilac was there in the room with us even though I couldn’t see her. Or maybe it was just fate. Either way, this picture is why it was on the list. Why I’m here.
I pull out the photo, this one saying it was taken about two months ago, sometime in December. It’s of Lilac and her mom, both smiling by the Christmas tree sharing a mischievous glint in their green eyes. I stop myself from reading the note and pass it to Mrs. Stevens. Her eyes dart back and forth over the writing, and for the second time today, I make someone cry.
She looks up at me, giving me her fist true smile in weeks and says, “Thank you.”
~~~
“Are you sure about the last one?” I zip up my jacket, looking at myself one last time in the mirror. Last night I had told Lilac all about yesterday’s adventures and, somehow, the conversation drifted into telling crushes and secrets like normal teen girls.
“Yes,” Lilac says for the hundredth time. Sitting up on my bed she gives me her intense stare through the mirror.
“Don’t give me that look,” I say defensively, “I’m just making sure this is what you want. If I were you, I don’t know if I would say that. Let alone to him.”
She sighs like I’m a little kid who can’t seem to get the basics of a math problem. “It needs to be said. Our world is so full of hate that it’s fracturing it bit by bit. It’s gone so far that the only way to heal is through love. And I know that sounds majorly cliche, but this is how I’m going to help. This is how my story makes a difference, Stacy.” I look at her for a long time, the nod.
“Alright. Wish me luck.” She stands and she gives me a fierce hug.
“Luck,” she whispers.
With a quick explanation in the general direction of the kitchen, I grab my keys and get in the car. I know where I’m going this time so I don’t need my gps, but it doesn’t mean I’m any more comfortable going there. After about 20 minutes, I pull into the parking lot, the black building sending shivers down my spine.
I clench my jaw and walk towards the jail, shoving my hands into my pockets to cover up how sweaty they are. I simply nod at the guards, and when the recognize me they let me right on through.
“Mornin’ Miss Long,” one of them says politely. I smile at them, then continue through the double doors. It’s one of the quieter Saturdays, which means no line, so I walk right up to my dad’s coworker and say, “Hey Ms. Bright. My dad isn’t feeling well today but he sent me in to check on one of his clients. Is it ok if I ask him a few questions?” I fake authority and hope the red lipstick makes me look older like Lilac said it did.
The woman looks me once over then replies in a thick southern accent, “Who’s your daddy’s client again?”
“Mr. Vermin.” The name feels like nasty medicine on my tongue and I try my best not to grimace. Ms. Bright purses her lips then picks up the phone next to her.
“I’ll tell them to bring him out. You know where to go.” I nod and turn to go down the hallway. Hate spreads through me every step of the way, and no matter how hard I try to push it aside my fists clench in response to the poison. Like usual, the inmate beat me to the booth, his rat like face shooting me a look full of loathing and boredom. And just like that, my fear is gone.
I sit down across from him and pick up the phone next to me. The man roles his eyes but does the same. He beats me to speaking first.
“Look, we both know your father didn’t send his precious daughter down to say hello, so what the hell do you want.” His gravelly voice sends fire into my veins. He had no right, but he’s the one who lived. It’s not fair! Who told him that he could take a girl’s life for no benefit but his own. I take a deep breath. I’m doing this for Lilac. I have to do this for Lilac.
I meet his cold stare, not flinching at his crooked teeth or balding hair and say, “She forgives you.” Then I hang up the phone, leaving Lilac’s powerful words behind with the confused man.
~~~
I don’t even bother taking off my shoes when I step through the front door. I bound up the stairs, calling a distracted hello to my parents, and run down the hall to my room.
“Lilac!” I say gleefully. “I did it! I finished the list! You were right about the lip stick by the way. Totally fooled Ms. Bright. I can’t wait to tell you about it. You can go now! Lilac—” I stop mid sentence at catch my breath. “Lilac?” I walk into my room, but no happy smile greets me. No wavy hair by the window. Not a chirp of a hello, not a peek of her startling eyes from the other side of the bed. That’s when it hits me.
She’s gone.
I’ve done everything on the list, and now she can move on. That’s what I wanted of course, but I hadn’t exactly thought it through.
Suddenly a queasy feeling makes me feel light headed and my legs buckle beneath me. And then I start to cry. I cry for all the times she wasn’t able to get. I cry for the future she should have. I cry for her children that will never be born. I cry for her mother and father. I cry for her friends who will never know she’s still looking out for them. I cry for Mr. Vermin, who will never truly understand what it’s like to be loved.
I’m sobbing so loudly that I don’t even hear the footsteps behind me until my mother kneels down next to me.
“Stacy, honey, what’s wrong?” I shakily look up at her and her worried eyes.
“I miss her, Mom. I miss her so much.” She lets out a pitying sound and takes me into an embrace. For a moment I allow myself to nuzzle my face into her shoulder.
What happens next is the most strange thing of all. Some will call me crazy because of it, but there will be some that will listen to my story and believe every word. All I know is that I saw a yellow light, so beautiful that nothing else will ever seem to match it’s grace. It’s hovering over her window, then, just as quickly as I see it, it sparks and disappears. That’s when I know she’s alright. That’s when I know Lilac Stevens made it.
I let out a shaky sigh and hug my mom as tight as I can, and let myself feel the calm ease through me.
In loving memory of those we’ve lost. May your love heal those full of hate.
Read And Eats 