One Last Request

It's overcast by the time I step out into the day, grey clouds lining the sky and blocking sunlight. I clutch both Talia's phone and mine in my coat pockets, fidgeting around as I walk down the sidewalk.

My destination is the grocery store.

It took a while for me to get dressed, as I'd been lost in thought about the mysterious caller and her strange request. Eventually though, for reasons I didn't understand, I concluded I wanted to comply.

And so here I am, walking in the autumn chill.

I come to a stop at an intersection, waiting for the crosswalk to change. While I do so, I look around to take in my surroundings, trying to distract myself.

There's a painted utility box next to me, the same one she'd volunteered to decorate years ago. The paint job is faded, but I can still make out her strange style of flowers on the sides. She'd always liked painting and helping, although she'd only been good at one.

I reach out to touch it, heat draining into the metal. Despite that, I don't feel cold.

I try not to linger on it.

Once the signal flips, it's not too long until the supermarket is in view. It's not the closest shop to our house, but it'd always been her preferred choice since it 'had the best coffee'. Honestly though, I hadn't really understood the statement and still don't. Coffee is coffee.

It's a large brick building, with a bright yellow sign that reads: 'JOLLY GROCERS: SHOP WITH A SMILE'.

I frown to spite the asinine slogan and push the doors open, a gust of warm air hitting my skin and reinvigorating my sense of feeling.

I hate it.

The store greeter welcomes me, but I ignore him and head straight to the snack aisles. I'm not here to chat and don't plan on staying long. I just need to buy a pack of microwave popcorn and get out.

I already know where it is—I used to pick up the thing weekly to fuel her addiction. But when I move to grab a box, I stare at it for a moment.

They changed the image on the front. 'NEW DESIGN, NEW FLAVOR' screams the obnoxious logo.

I nearly crush the cardboard in my hands.

"Damn it…"

New… New…

I'd come to hate the word.

Why change something when you don't need to?! Why ruin something if it was already beautiful?! WHY RISK FUCKING IT UP, THEN LIVE WITH THE DEATH OF IT BECAUSE OF ONE STUPID, SHITTY CHANGE?!

WHY?!

"…" I take a deep breath when I almost yell out the question, forcing myself to calm down.

I can't get angry. I don't want to get angry. Not when I'm doing this to honor her memory. Besides, I don't deserve to, not when I'm the cause of this.

"…" I just stuff it under my arm and leave.

It gets tossed onto the self-checkout to avoid having to talk to anyone. The box's barcode is scanned and bagged, and I swipe my card.

'Error, transaction could not be completed.'

I swipe it again.

'Error, transaction could not be completed.'

Again.

'Error, transaction could not be completed.'

"SHIT!"

I kick the machine, sending a ruckus into the air. My hands clench, and I have to fight to stop from ripping the damn screen off.

"Excuse me, is everything alright?"

My breath leaves me, and shame takes over instead. I turn and face a young worker; her uniform is a size too large, and her eyes are tired but concerned.

"Sorry. I was just having problems with the checkout. My card isn't working."

She nods, then motions me over to another one. "It's no big deal, ma'am. That one's been giving us issues recently. Here, let me ring you up on mine."

"Thanks. Sorry again for making a ruckus."

She shrugs as she scans the item, then smiles despite living in the hell that is retail. It almost reminds me of—

I bite my tongue. Not. Now.

I take the popcorn once it's paid for, then rush out of the store, trying not to see her face in everything again. It's normally not like this. Existence has been numbness for years now, and with the exception of her birthday, I never allow myself to feel. It gets ugly otherwise, just like I'd just demonstrated.

I pound my thigh hard, hoping the pain resets things, and it works. I make my way back to the house without a shred of emotion, all while the sky starts to cry.

I make it back just in time before the downpour truly starts. I don't take anything off, instead just tossing one of the bags into the microwave, staring as it spins around for a bit. Afterwards, I shift my focus to the window.

"Oh, damn it."

Seeing the droplets splatter against the glass, the thought suddenly occurs to me how difficult it'll make things. I don't give a shit whether I'm soaked, but the popcorn and coffee will be ruined if exposed. I'd have to find a way to protect them.

"…" I look around for inspiration, eventually landing on a plastic bag that'd been hanging on the kitchen wall for who knows how long. Talia always hated wasting plastic, even if we were shopping at a store that used it in spades, so we'd started reusing them as trash can liners.

That'd do.

Once the microwave's finished, I quickly stuff the buttered salt into the plastic. I also fill a thermos with some of the leftover coffee from yesterday; it's chilled, but it's all I have.

I'm out the door the moment that's all done, not wanting to linger on anything else.

***

The air outside has cooled significantly, and the rain's gotten even worse somehow. The sky's gone from a sad grey to a depressed black, thunder rumbling above the clouds as if the heavens are angry with my actions.

That's fine though. It's fitting.

My shoes splash in the puddles that have begun to form in the streets, the water seeping through my sneakers. I shudder at the sensation, but allow the disgust to continue, hoping it'd eventually numb me further.

It takes half an hour to reach the cemetery, and by the time I do, I'm soaked to the bone. I can feel the rainwater seeping into my underwear, but I don't care. I have a job to do.

I walk past the gates, taking a small comfort in the sound of the gravel under my shoes. A phantom 'Don't be so grumpy, you silly goose!' rings in my mind as I walk. I do my best to ignore it, however. I don't deserve to hear it.

My feet take me to the same place I'd been at yesterday, the familiar grey headstone still there, petunias on top, although they've already wilted slightly. I can't bring myself to look at it for more than a few seconds.

Instead, I unpack the snacks. I pour the popcorn on the plate that I'd stuffed in there with it, and place the thermos beside it, covering it all with the plastic again.

"Here you go," I whisper, choking on the words. "I hope it's to your liking. I might've burned the popcorn slightly."

There's no response, not that I was expecting one.

I exhale into the damp air. Okay, there. Now it's time to leave before the emotions catch up to me.

"…" I turn to walk away.

"Thank you. I appreciate this."

"!" I whip around to face the source of the voice.

Nothing.

"…?"

I look around, trying to find where it came from. I swear that I'd heard a voice. It sounded a bit different, but the way the words had been strung resembled the voice on the phone, and was almost like—

I scrunch my face up, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

FUCK.

It's happening again. There's nothing here—NOBODY here. This is why I don't get emotional anymore. I ALWAYS start seeing her, hearing her, feeling her.

I kick at the ground, sending gravel flying, then turn to punch a nearby column. The skin breaks as my knuckle slams into the concrete hard, but I welcome the pain.

It hurts.

Blood seeps and falls at my feet, dripping down into the soil. I might've actually broken something in it, but I can't bring myself to care. Instead, the anger turns to sadness, then to grief. I can't stop it anymore.

My body curls in on itself as I cry.

Why had I gotten swept up in my feelings? Why had I been persuaded by her reasoning? Why had I not stopped her and told her it's not worth it—that it would never be.

Why did she have to die?

I'm taken back to that moment, that moment that could've saved my everything. That invitation to try something new, to try to change things—experience things. The way she'd looked so excited about the trip, and the way I'd looked back, doubtful and unsure but agreeing anyway. She'd taken a chance on a freak like me, so how could I not return the favor, return her love—her enthusiasm?

I remember how she'd packed her things in the night, and how she'd smiled so warmly as she'd placed the last of the suitcases in the car. How I'd gotten in the driver seat, and she'd gotten beside me, and how I'd drove away into the unknown, ready to take a chance. I didn't have to drive, but she'd asked, and I'd said yes. Said she wanted to spend time with me, to enjoy the ride, and to share the experience.

That laugh, that smile, that warmness I loved with all my heart. That's what I'd been thinking of, when I'd taken my eyes off the road to admire her, to tell her that I loved her, to tell her that I was happy to be doing this.

*CRASH*

Thunder cracks the sky. The noise snaps me back into reality, and I fall onto the ground, sobbing into the wet grass. I can feel the mud seeping through my clothes, but I don't care.

Why should I?

"…"

A hand touches my shoulder. It's cold and wet, but it's also soft.

It's Talia's. It has to be.

I turn, and she's there, smiling at me despite the rain and the wind and the thunder.

My brain knows that it's a hallucination, that it's not really her, that it's just an image of her conjured from regret and guilt and sadness and shame, but I don't care, because she looks exactly like her, feels exactly like her, and smells exactly like her. Even the way she looks at me is exactly like her.

I stand to hug her and close my eyes. It feels like she's really there, and that makes everything hurt so much more. But at the same time, everything also feels a little better.

I feel warm.

I'm not sure how long we stay like that, but eventually, I open my eyes again. Her face is there, inches away from mine, and she's smiling at me. I can see the freckles on her face and the dimples in her cheeks and the way her eyes crinkle when she looks at me and the way her hair is always just a little bit messy.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." I say it over and over again, not knowing what else to say. She just hugs me tighter and rubs circles on my back and tells me it's okay and that she still loves me no matter what and that she forgives me and I deserve to forgive myself.

"…"

I let go of her, and she's gone, just as quickly as she came. She was never there to begin with. I knew that, of course. But it felt good to have her there, to hear her voice, to feel her touch, to smell her scent.

I sob.

It hurts.

I wipe the mud from my clothes, then take one last look at the offerings before walking, leaving it behind me.

I pass by the cemetery gate. I'm shivering from the cold, and I'm wet to the bone. My knuckle is still bleeding, and my throat feels hoarse.

The sky is still black, and the thunder still rolls. The wind still howls, and the rain still pours.

And I still don't—

"…"

I take a breath, not finishing that thought.

Because I know it's not true.

I know that I care. I care very much. And I know that I can't keep lying to myself like this. I have to face the truth. And I have to do it soon. Because if I don't…

If I don't, then I might as well be dead myself.

I'm halfway back to the house when I feel vibrations coming from my pockets. I stop in my tracks, then fish around to find the source of the disturbance.

Talia's phone.

It's vibrating, and the screen is lit up.

I stare at it for a moment, not really understanding why it's going off—there isn't even a caller ID this time. But I press the answer button with my still-good finger anyway.

"Hello?"

"…"

"Hello? Who is this?" I repeat.

"…" A sigh comes from the other end. It's full of longing, yet also relief. I could pick that out anywhere.

"Is this, uh, Amanda?"

"It is, and who are you?"

"…" She laughs, and it's as bubbly and warm as her. The sound of her giggle alone causes my eyes to widen and for my heart to beat faster.

The trickle down my face turns to a river, and my chest aches. It's a pain unlike any other—something that I thought would never come to pass again. It's a pain that's sweet and bitter, and it's the only thing I've ever wanted.

She continues, not answering my question. "Thank you for humoring me. I know my requests can be abrupt, but it means a lot that you do them. It always does."

Her voice is so soft and soothing that it's almost hypnotic.

"Do you mind if I ask one last request?" I can feel the smile in her voice.

I can't respond, only choke out a nod. It's not enough of course, and she hesitates as if to wait for confirmation.

"…Yes," I whimper eventually, finally managing to speak. "You can. Ask, that is."

"Thank you." Her voice sounds a little softer now, but it only adds to the gentleness of its caress.

"Can you… Can you love yourself for me? I know it's selfish and a bit hypocritical to ask, but I want you to love yourself for me, because I love you, Mandy."

The call ends immediately after, not allowing me a word in response. There's a finality to it, as if the conversation had ended and the answer already said.

My fingers tremble, and I nearly drop the phone. My heart aches in so many different ways. Numbness gives way to everything else, and the flood overwhelms me.

I can only stare at the empty screen in shock, disbelief, and something else.

*plop* *plop* *plop*

Droplets land on the glass, having trailed down from my raised cheeks.

"…?" My hand moves to feel my face.

When did I start smiling again?