Cath
My phone vibrates, it’s Alex, again. This is the 20th time she’s called in the past half hour. I turn my phone on do not disturb and leave it face down on my desk.
~~~
“Oh my God. Cath, come here. You need to see this.” I walk over to Jessica’s computer where all my friends are gathered.
“What is it?” I ask, pushing my way through everyone so I can see the screen.
“Remember that girl, Alex? Weren’t you two like super close or something for a few years? Didn’t she  live with you?” Steph asks, pulling up the local news on the screen.
“Uh, yeah, I mean I guess. We sorta had a falling out. Why?”
“She drove her car off the freeway like an hour ago. Like, to kill herself.”
“You’re  kidding. That’s f***ed up you guys. Suicide isn’t a joke.”
“No. Uhm. Cath, look.” Jess points to the screen. My eyes follow her finger. And there it is. A picture of the wreck, and a picture of Alex. I pick up my phone, I almost drop it because my hands are shaking.

32 times. She called me 32 times. And I didn’t answer. And now she’s gone.
I grab my keys.
“I have to go.” I turn to the door.
“Cath, I thought you guys weren’t close anymore. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need to take a drive. I’m going home.” But home wasn’t here anymore. Home was dead.
“Alright, call if you need anything,” Steph says. I walk out of Jess’s room, and no one comes after me. Maybe that’s how Alex feels felt. Maybe that’s how Alex felt when she called me. She was walking away and waiting for someone to notice and come after her. But I didn’t answer. I let her go. And now I would never be able to ask her to come back.
~~~
I pull into my driveway and wipe my eyes. I touch up my makeup to hide my tears. Slowly I pull myself out of my car and up the stairs into my room. I have to find it, the letter Alex wrote me. I have to find it.
32 times.

I pull out the envelope from a drawer, it’s crumpled and worn. I take out the last thing I have from Alex and hold it in my hands. My sobs choke me as I unfold the letter.
~~~
“Okay, you can’t read it until after I go to work, promise?” Alex looks up at me with hopeful hazel eyes. She worked a s***ty 19-hour shift at a diner a few blocks away.
“Fine. I promise.” She holds up her pinky and gives me a lopsided grin. I hook my pinky with hers and we both kiss our thumbs. Then her phone buzzes.
“It’s my boss, I gotta get to work. I’ll see you at home later?” I pull her into a hug and she rests her head on my shoulder.
“I’m home right now, Alex.” She smiles into my shoulder.
“You smell good.” She says into my shirt.
“Thank you, buddy.”  Then she pulls away from me and walks down my stairs and out my door.
~~~

I trace the paper before I bring my eyes to the words.

Dearest Cath,

  Oh, love, where do I begin? It’s three in the morning and all my thoughts are of you. I was anxious writing this letter, I thought it may be better if I wrote it when I was drunk. But you wouldn’t want that. Neither would I.

One day, I imagine us both happy, together. Living next door to each other in San Francisco, with each of our houses full of food and family and love. I’ll have a few kids with whoever ends up being the love of my life, and you will too. And every Friday we will switch off houses and have a family movie night because that’s what you and I are. Family. We’ll let our kids watch a movie while we sip chardonnay and catch up. Like sisters. You might be a therapist, and I may be a writer or a cop, but either way by the end of the day I’ll find myself at your front door, coming to say hello. Because then, coming to your house in the middle of the night to whisk you away on a spontaneous adventure, will be allowed.

Often at three in the morning, I think of this, our future, and smile to myself. For the times I think of this version of my future, I am giddy. For as insanely impossible as this image of our future may sound, haven't we already done the impossible? Two polar opposites, becoming best friends. Soulmates.

Family. To most people, that word means a mom, dad, sister, brother, but to me, it means you. I have associated the following words with you, Cath; Family, Angel, Buddy, Love, Home, Safe, Happy, Beautiful, Art, Music, and Color. To me, you are all of those and much more.

I have never shared this with you before, but I used to be the biggest fan of the Beatles. This song makes me think of you everytime I hear it. I love it, because it reminds me of you, and how much you mean to me. Here are the lyrics. It’s called “In my life”.

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

In my life I love you more

I don’t know if you took the time to go listen to it, but if you didn’t, play it while you continue reading this.

I sort of find it settling how it has a major chord progression, but sad lyrics. Picture me sitting in the middle of a room, drunk out of my mind, listening to this song over and over. Got it? The room is dark but has moonlight coming through the windows and I’m laying there, looking at the moonlit ceiling, thinking about you, believe it or not. God knows how I remember that, but I do, I was so close to dying then, but here I was listening to this song, thinking of you, and I realized my heart was beating and I was breathing and I was living. I. Was. Living. Isn’t that extraordinary? To think I was breathing just off of memories of you? This song is slow and thick, sort of like cough syrup. I’m not sure why I thought of that but, who can blame me, it’s three in the morning.

Do you ever think about fate? I know I do. All the time. I think you and I are the definition of fate, no matter how crazy that sounds, I believe it. You, the happiest person in the whole world, and I, a sad girl who grew up too fast. People like that don’t just become friends. People as different as us find each other. Or no, maybe, we find ourselves when we look into each other's eyes. At least I know I do. I see myself in you, after being friends for as long as we have, I see myself in parts of you I didn’t know were there. I don’t think we stumbled upon each other one night at the beach. I think we found each other when we were able to breathe. For I am here on this very earth for you, as you are for me. God put us here for each other. Maybe God is fate. Who knows. I surely don’t, this is just my theory.

I remember one night when you had a breakdown. I think it’s the only time you’ve ever needed my help because you weren’t okay. I’ve forgotten my past many times, but pieces of this night stick with me. I don’t remember how this came about, but you were so scared because you didn’t know who you were. You were crying, and I was there holding you close to my heart, so you could listen to it beat. I wanted so badly to keep you safe that night. From hurt, from fear, from sadness, and pretty much in itself, from me. I know I can’t offer you much joy, but I can offer you, not just one, but two shoulders to lean on when life becomes a little too much to handle on your own. I’ll be here, for the rest of my life, on this earth for you, and you alone. No one else. I will be here when you need a smile, a hug, a laugh, a cry, or simply when you need to hear the words I love you. I will be here through graduation, to college, when you fall in love, have kids, and maybe when you break, for everyone does at least once in their lifetime. I can not offer you too much joy, but I can offer you trust, love, hope, wisdom, experience with the bad times, and I can offer you a hand to hold. Just look up, I’m here waiting, my arms outstretched, ready to welcome you home.

Cath, my love, with all of my heart, mind, and soul, I am thankful for you. I am thankful I lived long enough to realize there were reasons to be living. Thank you for always being with me. Thank you for appreciating me. Thank you for loving me, no matter how sad or insane I am. Thank you for being here, on this earth, for me. Thank you for teaching me what it means to see God in other people. I will always see God in you. Thank you. Thank. You. I love you. And I hope you know what those words mean to me. For I do, love you.

  Always, love,

   Alex West

Whatever happened to her reasons to live? Oh, right, they left her. I left her. Why did I leave her? How could I ever have done that to her? She was broken and empty, but she gave me the whole f***ing world. How could I let her go?
32 times. She called me. She called me.

I can taste the bile rising in my throat. Her smile is burned into my mind and I can’t stop seeing her no matter how hard I shut my eyes. My tears have rained on my letter. Her letter. She isn’t dead. She’s fine. She’s at the hospital resting and I’ll see her in the kitchen making us dinner tomorrow. She’s fine.
She’s not.

Alex Marie West is dead, because of me. I will never be able to bring her back. I will never be able to help her. I will never again be able to tell her that I love her again.
But she called me. Me. 32 times. And I never answered.

~~~
I walk down the sand, listening to the ocean beside me, a can of beer in my hand. Sand dusts over my bare feet. He was gone, after hitting my mom for as long as I can remember, he finally left. I take another sip of my beer. It’s warm, sort of gross, I’ve been out here too long.

When my dad hit my mom, I would always run the few block from our house to the beach. I would look at the sky and cry and listen to the ocean. It became my safe haven. The ocean would always calm my racing heart. 

I hear a loud noise, it sounded like rocks crashing together. I peer through the darkness and strain my eyes until I see the outline of a girl. She had stones in her hands and was placing them inside the pockets of her coat. She wore tattered jeans and a shirt with holes in it, the sleeves stained with what could only be blood. I walk closer to her and can begin to see the tears falling from her eyes. She pulls out something from her back pocket and places it on her wrist. She grimaces as she slides it along her skin, from her hand towards her elbow. I drop my beer the moment I realize what she’s holding, a blade. S***.
“Hey! Hey!” I scream at her and run as fast as I can in the sand towards her body.
“Stop, please stop. What are you doing?” It was a stupid question to ask.
“I. I don’t. I don’t know.” She stutters, her dark brown hair swirling around her, the wind moving it everywhere. She keeps her fingers on the blade, still inside her skin.
“Can you let go? Let me hold that for a little bit?” She pulls the blade out of the deep incision she had made on her arm, she winces at the pain. She holds out the bloody blade in her hand, her whole arm shaking. I take it from her and put it in my pocket.
“God, you must be freezing. Here.”  I take off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. Her arm is bleeding a lot. Too much. I reach out towards it. She pulls away.
“Let me help you. Please.” She relaxes and lets me trace where the line going up her wrist is. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, I could patch it up on my own.
“What’s your name?” I ask her, in the gentlest tone I can manage over the sound of the wind.
“I. Uhm. It’s Alex. I’m Alex. I think.”
“I’m Catherine, but most people call me Cath.”
“I. Thank you. For stopping me. I should uhm. I should go now.”
“Do you have anywhere to go?”
“No,” She pauses for a second and looks at the sand. “I ran away from home a while ago. I was staying with this guy, Eric, but I had to leave. So now I’m here. Leaving.” She casts her eyes to the ocean. The waves match the pulsing beats of my heart.
“Let me take care of you. You can stay with me. I know you don’t know me and you’re probably really scared but it’s supposed to storm soon and you, well, you need help. I’ll take you to my house and patch you up and you can stay with me for as long as you want. Okay? Does that sound like a good plan?”
“Please. Please don’t hurt me.” She looks up at me with big hazel eyes, someone had made a sick home inside her. Someone had hurt her so bad that even her eyes looked sort of broken. I reach my hand to hers. The one with the cuts. I feel her blood on my skin, but  I lace my fingers between hers without a second thought. She holds onto me tight, as if I might slip away at any given moment.
“I promise I will not hurt you. You’re safe now.”
~~~

After we get to my house and into my room, I offer her a sweatshirt and some boxers.
“Here. You can have them.” She gives me a small smile before stripping down to her underwear and bra. I look at her. Her arm was wrapped in an ace bandage and gauze, the best I could manage before my mom came in the kitchen asking questions. There was blood dripping down her legs, I didn’t know if I should be concerned, or if it was just her time of the month.
“Do you need a tampon? I have some in the drawer under my sink.”
“No. It’s not from that.” She looks down again, scared and small and broken.
“Do you think you can take a shower?” She’s almost too weak to stand, let alone shower. But I ask anyway.
“I. I don’t think I can stand. Or. Wash myself.” A tear slips down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away.
“Alright, here’s what we can do if you’re okay with it. I’ll fill up the tub with some bubbles and warm water and you can lay in it and I’ll wash your hair and clean your cuts and I’ll clean off your legs from what happened. Are you okay with that?” She nods at me, and her embarrassment slowly slips away.  I walk into the bathroom and fill up the tub.
~~~
I wash her body. She is so thin, I can count her ribs. She has scars, a lot of them obviously not from self-harm. Her sides are bruised really badly. She has a black eye and a busted lip. I begin to wipe the blood off her legs and her whole body tenses up like she’s preparing for pain. I push her hair behind her ear as soft as I can.
“Shhh. Remember my promise? You’re safe with me.”  She starts to breathe like the air is getting caught in her lungs. And her sobs seem to rip her into a million pieces. I lean toward her, and she puts her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her cold naked body and sit on the edge of the tub. It’s pretty big; it used to be the master bath before we renovated the house. I grab a dirty t-shirt from the ground and put it over her head, even though it would get soaked, I didn’t want to scare her. I sit down in the warm water next to her. She looks at me, and I open my arms, letting her know I would hold her if she wanted me too. If she needed me to. She pulls the shirt all the way down to her thighs, she’s so thin. After she’s sure I won’t hurt her, she leans her body into mine. She sort of fits. I rock her back and forth and let her cry until there are no more tears left inside her.
~~~

Soon she’s in my bed under all the blankets I could find. I sit next to her and rub her back while humming a song my mother used to sing me.
“Alex?”
“Mhm?” She moves over so I can lay next to her.
“This guy, Eric, did he...rape you?” She closes her eyes and tightens her fists around the sleeves of my sweatshirt. I quickly grab her hands and hold them in mine.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about him. But just know that he can not hurt you here. I’m going to protect you. I promise,” I say as she stares blankly at me. It’s as if she’s looking through me like she’s in a whole other place. A place that I assume is her past.
“He did. Hurt me.” I can feel her hands shaking and her breath quickening. I don’t know if I should let go of her and give her space or if I should pull her into me and hold her while she cries. I do the latter. And so we stay like that, all night, her head on my shoulder and my arms around her. And it feels like I’ve known her for years.
~~~
“Cath, honey, the funeral is in an hour. Are you up yet?” My mom cracks my door open. I’m standing in front of the mirror in a black dress that Alex would tell me is “too mainstream.” I wish she was here with me. She would hug me from behind and put her hands on my hips and smile into the mirror. She would tell me that we were perfect. I don’t know how everything went wrong so fast. I got scared, I guess. But it happened right here, in the room we used to share, next to the bed we used to share. This is where I made her leave.
~~~

“Alex. Get out of bed. You’re fine. Come on we’re going to be late.”
“Cath I can’t. Please. Just go.”
“God, Alex, you’re fine! Get the hell out of bed!” She hadn’t gotten out of bed in days. My room smelled like s*** and looked even worse. I was starting to lose it. She had been here for a year and a half and didn’t even bother to come have breakfast with my family, let alone care about my feelings. She was homeless and I gave her a place to stay and it was like she didn’t even care.
“Cath, I’m sorry. I can’t get up. I really can’t. Everything hurts.” She whispers the last part as if it were some secret. She had been sad for so long it was starting to get old.
“I can’t do this anymore, Alex. You complain all the time. You’ll be okay! God, you’re fine. I love you, but you have to go. You need to leave, now.”
“Oh. Uhm. I. I’m sorry.” She pulls herself out of my bed and reaches for the clothes that I gave her when she got here so long ago.
“No, I’ll keep those, I’ll wash them and try to give them to you sometime.” She goes into her bag and pulls out the clothes from the night she got here. I never knew why she kept them. She’s still so thin, her ribs poke out of her skin like they’re trying to escape her body. She looks like she did the night I met her: scared, sad, and alone. This hurts me, knowing that I’ve made a huge mistake. But I don’t stop her as she looks at me, turns her back, and walks out the door without even saying goodbye. What did I just do?
~~~

I miss her so much. Everything about her. The way her head fit right in my shoulder. The way her hands felt on my hips. The scars on her body. The way she would kiss me on the forehead and grin. Or the way I would kiss her on the forehead and watch her smile get so big. How she would always tell me I smelled good. How she would protect me and always stand up for me. The way her hand fit in mine. When she would write for me. When she would read me stories. Or when she would sing to me. I missed every single moment that I would never experience again with my soulmate. And it was all my fault. Wasn’t it? If I hadn’t made her leave that day she might be here looking in the mirror with me. Or maybe if I had let her come over to my house when she called. Or if I answered one of her calls. There are so many things I could have done to change what happened, but I did nothing. Now I have to deal with that for the rest of my life. I pick up the sweatshirt of mine she always wore, the one she said smelled like me and made her feel safe. I fold it neatly and tuck it under my arm. Then I head to my car and drive to her funeral.
~~~

It was a melancholy event; she would have hated it. She always joked with me that she wanted me to bury her in a tophat and a thong. She said to handout pop tarts instead of papers with an obituary on them, and they had to be brown sugar pop tarts or else she would haunt me as a ghost. I didn’t like it when she joked about her death that way. It scared me so badly. I would wake up every morning terrified if she wasn’t in bed next to me. I never wanted this. I never wanted to have to attend her funeral. I wanted to live out my life with her beside me. But here I was, in front of Alex Marie West’s dead body.

Her eyes were closed, and she wore a beautiful dress. Her hands were at her sides. I take a rock that I had drawn a cross on for her a while back and tuck it inside her cold hand, still as soft and small as it used to be. Then I take my sweatshirt and tuck it under her arm, the sleeve under her hand so I would always be there holding it, even while she was in heaven. I take one last look at the girl who meant more than the world to me. I kiss her on the forehead. She had scrapes and cuts all over her, from the crash, from herself, and from the people who had hurt her, but she looked just as she used to. I almost expected her to open those hazel  eyes of hers and smile at me, but of course, she didn’t. I place my hand on hers for one last time.
“Goodbye, Alex, I love you. Forever and always, to infinity and beyond.” And then I walk away from her, just like she walked away from me. Only this time, there was no hope of ever seeing her again. 
~~~