One Last Trip
This is a short story I wrote on a whim. It might contain certain sensitive topics that could be triggering for some.
Our giggles faded away into the pouring rain, both of us drenched from head to toe. Me and my best friend Olivia were traveling together. Though we had only met a year ago, we had become extremely close after spending so much of our summer together. Traveling from one city to another, hours of road trips, and many sleepless nights, talking our hearts out until the sun had risen once again. The rain plastered our hair onto our faces, curls sticking across our eyes and nose. The dresses we wore clung onto our body, as the once flowing white and yellow dress ends had shrunken down. We both grinned widely into the camera I was holding up, taking turns showing off our impressive chewing gum bubbles, laughing at how quickly they popped and disappeared. Our double-seated bike was parked to the side of the road, as neither one of us had the courage to continue biking in the rain.
“I actually really need to go to the bathroom.” I said, feigning a sad look at the camera. She smirked said back, “then maybe you should finish your business in that pond over there. Before anyone notices, that is.” I looked towards the direction of the small pond towards our side, startled by how much it resembles a painting. The view was shadowed by falling rain, the gray blue water reflecting the last bits of sun that still peaked out from behind the cloud. Bits of soft pink and bright green were sprinkled across the river, showing blurred outlines of the pond lilies and bushes around the pond. It reminded me of the many Monet paintings I had gushed over with Olivia a few days ago. It was beautiful, but to me at that moment, it was only hilarious. Olivia stared at the pond, the hint of the smile still on her face, as she wondered out loud, “I wonder how deep that pond is.” I grinned and said back, “You want to go in and find out?” Olivia paused for a moment, before laughing and exclaiming, “Girl, I’m already wet enough!”
We continued to ramble crazy random thoughts, wild, but over the moon happy, until the rain slowly sprinkled away, leaving only me and Olivia, two teenage girls, laughing as we started to make up an advertisement for the bubble gum that we were still chewing on.
After the last bits of rain slowly came to a halt, our chatter slowly quieted as we reached our hands out of the safety of the maple tree, palms facing upwards, careful to see if there was any hint or drop of rain still eager to escape the grasp of the clouds above. Sensing that there were none, we wiped off the remaining droplets of rain that sat on our bike seats, and pedaled off slowly, careful not to slip on the messy puddles that the rain had created. As we reached the motel that we were staying in, Olivia went in first, mumbling about how she desperately needed to remove herself from the drained mess she was in. I smiled and said, “I’ll wait for you downstairs after I change. Let’s drive to the beach! I heard after the rain it’s gorgeous there.” She raised up her hand and flashed a quick okay before disappearing behind the bathroom doors. I quickly changed out of my wet clothes, and put on my swimsuit before walking downstairs to the lobby.
The motel that we were staying in was cheap but extremely cozy. It was owned by the sweetest and most loving couple ever, who had decided to settle here after falling in love with the seaside scenery. The lobby was full of different colored lights and vibrant couches, with a large display of stuffed animals visitors and themselves had collected over the years. I had personally decided to take charge and plan our four week road trip, choosing hotels and visiting places that brought me a sense of joy and peace. This motel, by far, was one of the best choices I had made. I could already imagine myself coming here again after our three day stay.
Suddenly, I realized I had forgotten the most important part of this trip, my small silver camera. I quickly shuffled upstairs. My camera had been the recorder of our entire trip. Everywhere we went, I always pulled out my camera, snapping photos of me and Olivia, Olivia herself, the scenery, and random things that I wished to remember forever. As a journalist, taking photos and videos has become a chore in my daily life. But throughout the trip, this small silver camera had never felt like an obligation. Everytime I picked up the overly-decorated camera, heard the familiar old snap! of another moment being recorded, a rush of calmness would settle over me. Even if I couldn’t be in one moment forever, my camera would be able to remember it forever, and I would too, as long as my camera was nearby. The beach would be another beautiful addition to the photos that had filled up my camera, I couldn’t wait.
As soon as I entered the room, a sense of uneasiness washed over me. The room was unbearably quiet, no sounds coming from the shower, only the slow drop, drop, drop of the tap. The small motel room looked as it did when I left, the blinds undrawn, casting a dark shadow over the twin beds that sat in the middle of the room. Our wet dresses were hung across the hotel chair, a small wet patch of rainwater already collecting on the floor beneath it. Time seemed to slow down as I called out into the silence, “Oli?” My trembling hands slowly slipped my shoes off, I took a shaky breath, took three small strides towards the bathroom door. Taking another deep inhale, I whispered quietly, “I’m coming in,” before pushing open the door.
The door creaked open, and the damp smell of the shower water filled my lungs. Before I could take another step, I stopped. “Ol-” Staring ahead, I stopped breathing. It felt as if the whole world had come to an abrupt stop, and there left only me, standing in the bathroom, staring at my nightmare. The nightmare that had haunted me the past few weeks, that was constantly nagging at the back of my mind, trying to consume my thoughts and eating up the happy memories me and Olivia had made the past few weeks. It had already taken over my life before the trip even began, but I had learned to escape the nightmare. Only, it seemed as if the nightmare had come back to haunt me once more. And this time, it was not in my mind, but part of my reality, right in front of me. Breathing and alive.
Only, it was not breathing anymore. And Olivia had decided not to stay alive anymore. I had known this before we started off on the road, before I even planned this trip. I had known that Olivia had long stopped living months ago. After her mom had passed away, and when the only thing that had kept her alive, her exciting artistic career had come to a halt, there was nothing left for her to live for. I had found her standing in front of her apartment door, seeming so terribly lost and empty all I could think to do was to wrap my arms around her. I tried to find things for her to do with me, inviting her on walks, trips to the local art museum, and picnics just to make sure that she was still breathing. I didn’t know what she had gone through, but anyone that walked past her, who looked into her eyes, could tell she had long stopped caring for herself and the world.
It was only a few weeks later when I finally learned what she had experienced. It was then I decided to take her on this trip, to let her see how big of a world we lived in, and how much there was to live for. I found as many different activities as I could, I made a playlist for us to sing together in the car, and I always found something new to talk about, just because I was afraid of the empty silence, that would remind her of her most lonely times. She had almost seemed happy at times, at the late nights, when we would tell each other silly knock knock jokes that made no sense, when we were talking in the rain, and when we were belting in the car. Maybe it was because I tried to convince myself that the emptiness that flashed in her eyes from time to time was simply from tiredness, maybe it was because I was desperate enough to tell myself that she had gotten better because of me. But in the end, reality managed to catch up to me once more, mocking me for my foolishness, for my false hopes that I could be the one to inspire another to live once more.
I stared at Olivia’s limp and pale body, unable to move, unable to blink. All of a sudden, a whirl of memories came back to me.
To the day I heard my doctor tell me they couldn’t save my sister from her overdose.
To the day I found my mom, high and drunk, standing on the rooftop of our small home.
“No no no no no no,” I muttered to myself, closing my eyes and squatting down, desperately willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. Because this couldn’t be real. This can’t be happening. This must just be another one of the nightmare’s that existed only in my head.
Because God couldn’t be this cruel. God wouldn’t make someone lose three of their most loved and closest people they had in their lives. God wouldn’t make someone go through the same loss over and over again, until they had no one else left.
“This has to be a nightmare, this has to be a nightmare, just another nightmare,” I whispered to myself, “I will wake up, I will wake up, I will wake up.”
I quickly stood up, muttering to myself. If I just cleaned up this mess, if I just got rid of this blood, if I just turned this bathroom back into normal, everything will be fine.
Just like before. Just like when you cleaned up your sister’s room. Just like when you threw away all the pills in your house. Just like the day you sold your mother’s house. Just like the day you threw away all your mother’s glass bottles. It’s all just another nightmare. And you can wake up. As long as you fix the mess.
“Just clean it up. Just fix the mess.” I slowly walked across the tiled bathroom floor, mummering to myself, “This nightmare will pass.”
Just clean it up.
Just fix this mess.
And you will wake up.
Everything will be fine.
Everything will be fine. I repeated to myself, as I wiped the bathroom tiles over and over again. Until my hands were red and splotchy. Until all that was left was just one small red stain, barely noticeable amongst the floor.