“Some people just want to be haunted” (Written May 5th 2023)
~~~
“You gunna be okay dude? If you’re not down to go drop off their stuff and get yours, then we can do this another day.”
“No”. The boy in the driver's seat respond as he draws in a deep breath, raising his hand along his torso as his chest rises scooping up air to his mouth. His lungs fill up. His hand now suspended at the precipice of the breath slowly turning over … *Eyes open* A strong exhale, hand pushed away with the breath hopefully letting go of whatever prompted his therapeutic breathing exercise. “It’s been almost a month.” Almost a month since she ended it. Since he’d seen her. This week would have been their one year, but… a new countdown had begun in his mind. Days since he’d lost his life.
He turns on the car and slowly starts to drive toward the house he’d ridden his bike to so many times. He had even jumped fences, trespassed, and ran just to see her. It was November, so it was dark after sunset, but even the tall palm trees seem to bow their heads just a little lower in the breeze and the streetlights glowed just a tad more somberly to comfort him. As if they had heard what happened and they knew this was the last time they’d see this boy that had zipped past them with joy and anticipation of almost arriving at her house. He rolled down the window to help him breathe and cool him down, and he sort of smiled as if trying to comfort the trees and lights that were trying to comfort him. Maybe he was just trying to comfort himself.
“You’re driving kinda slow dude. You sure you're good?” his friend in the passenger seat asked.
“Yeah. I’m good” the kid replied.
Last right turn. West. Blinker flicked on as slow as he’d ever signaled, but the clicking of the signal kept a steady pace for him. He turned the wheel. Straightened out. Blinker clicked off. Just him again. Now staring at the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. Sun had long set by now and the twilight spectrum set a fitting mood of closure as her house loomed closer and he pulled up against the curb. Engine cuts out.
“Let’s do this dude.” His friend said. The kid nodded, “Yeah” he said to himself. “Let’s do this”.
He texted her he was outside and she came out the front door as his friend was unloading what they were going to drop off. She was carrying a box. She looked happy. He was sure that he just looked hurt.
His friend greeted her, and she greeted his friend and as for what the kid and the girl said I doubt either of them remember, but they returned what items they felt the other should have back and then went their separate ways. Again.
For the final time now.
It was finally,
truly,
Done.
...
“So what’s in the box?” His friend asked. “No idea, let’s find out.” The kid said trying to sound way more causal than he was feeling. He focused on the road but recognized things in his peripherals as his friend pulled them out to see them for himself.
Mementos, gifts, things that I’m sure just reminded her of him. Some real kind of personal stuff too about their life together. But now, in this box, it was all just “his life”. A beanie. Thee Beanie. The car ran over a palm branch that cracked with a loud *SnAp!*
“No”
“No what?” his friend said. Looking up and rummaging no more.
“I gave her that hat as a gift and it’s Her’s I gotta give it back.” He had already started to signal onto a street to make a U-turn.
“Are you sure dude?” his friend said, concern in his voice undoubtedly and naturally, even if the kid didn’t hear it.
“No. This is Her’s. I gave this to HER”. The trees and lights sensed something and just like his friend, they too were concerned. Right again onto the cul-de-sac. Sun long set by now, but everything was much, much darker than it was short time ago when they first drove up.
He wasn’t breathing deep. He wasn’t thinking clear. He had one goal in that moment, and it was to give her this hat.
Car parked. Lights off. Phone out to text her again. “You sure about this dude? I don’t know how big of a deal this is…” the friend starts again but is cut off. “It’s her hat. I gave to Her as a gift. It’s HER's."
It was the hat he wore his freshman year. He gave it to her when she was a Freshman. He even mentioned how when their kids would start high school they’d wear it as Freshman too.
She came out once more. Reservation in her face that’d he’d remember later, but in the moment, he was blind with the goal of giving her that hat.
“This is yours” he held it out to her. She came to a stop and said nothing. “I gave this to you as a gift.” The space and silence between them was present and she know she had to break one of them before he broke himself so she spoke. “I know, but it’s your freshman year hat.” She knew the importance of what it meant to him back then. Which I'm sure is the main reason she made sure to return it to him.
“I know, but I gave this to you…” It was as if it was all he could say. The only way to express what he felt. He was lost, but she had known him long enough and could tell he was going through something.
“Please.... It’s yours I gave it to you” he said again.
He had given it to her. Along with everything else in the box and honestly everything a 17 year old kid like him had to give. He had given her his whole life.
She was hesitant and perceptive. I can only hope not scared, but who knows. She was strong though, and caring. Trying to process the best way to handle the situation. Her eyes wrote him a tragic love poem almost an entire year long. It hurt to read that poem, but he couldn’t look away.
“Okay” she said. And she took the hat in her hand. He thanked her. They said their farewell’s and then went their separate ways. Again.
For the final time now.
It was finally,
truly,
Done.
...
“You gunna be okay dude?”
The kid got in the car, started it, and drove away. Not looking back. Past still trees and metal streetlights. He gave back the hat, but something clearly did not feel right.
“Yeah, I’ll be good.” He said.
He already knew he made a mistake. But this was one he knew he would have to make.
He had given her his whole life, and she was kind enough to give it back. Not just the stuff, or the hat, but the entire rest of his life that he could now live for himself.
But he couldn’t loosen his grip even after he was falling.
~~~
“Why do you think he went and gave her the hat back?” asked a tall looming palm tree to a lamp.
“Perhaps it was to haunt her.” Said a young chilly lemon citrus.
“Or perhaps it was so that he wouldn't haunt himself” chimed in from a flickering lamp with their soft orange glow.
An old grand sycamore let out a sigh and stretched in the late autumn wind to loosen the last few of another year's leaves. The lights stopped flickering, the trees ceased their chatter, and even the wind held its breath to listen.
“Some people just want to be haunted” the old Sycamore said.