Short Stories
by CC Christo
Freya glanced up from her laptop and locked eyes with the one person she knew she’d never see again. She had just been reading his obituary. He just sat there, annoyingly patient as she stared blankly at him, blinking rapidly, opening and closing her mouth half a dozen times as she looked at her screen and back up at him, sitting in front of her.
The bustling noises of the café seemed to fade away, sounds muted and all she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. Finally, after what felt like eons of suspended animation, she managed to blurt out “What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On.”
He simply smiled his big, crooked smile and said “Hi Freya. We should take a walk.”
“This is a dream, it has to be a dream. It’s just not real. Wake up, Freya.” she laughed in a daze of confusion-turned-reasoning, as he packed up her laptop, grabbed her bag, phone, keys, notebook, pen and tea, wrapped her scarf around her neck and took her by the arm, leading her outside into the warm breeze of a September dusk on Fenwick Island.
“You always had too much stuff,” he mused as he stuffed her belongings into her favorite army green canvas messenger bag and slung it onto his shoulder in familiar ease.
They walked in – mostly – silence for a few minutes until the smell of the ocean crept up and the sound of the nearby waves snapped her out of the phrase she kept muttering to herself, “Johnny’s dead. This is a dream. He’s dead, this is a dream.”
The smell and the sounds of the ocean made her stop in her tracks. Her dreams were always wildly vivid and sometimes even prophetic, but there were never scents and she knew in that moment that she was awake, that her brain had been trying to reason and protect her from the shock, the grief, the fury. She turned to face him, and there he stood, she wasn’t dreaming and it wasn’t a hallucination or a psychotic break – Johnny was standing there, calmly staring back, waiting for her inevitable explosion. And here it came, like the waves crashing nearby, like their friendship always was: she was the wave and he was the shore.
“Johnny.” she started through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm, to show an effort of composure that wouldn’t last beyond her saying his name. “WHAT THE HELL. HOW ARE YOU HERE. WE BURIED YOU TWO WEEKS AGO!” She was seething, at war with the raging currents inside of her, defaulting to the anger because it was easier than the pain or giving in to the relief of the impossible unfolding in front of her. Her grief had been unbearable, and her anger even more so. Johnny waited patiently; he knew her, he knew she wasn’t finished, he knew she had about six more emotions to get through before he should speak.
“SAY SOMETHING! Do you know what you’ve put me through, put all of us through?” It was starting, he could see it in her eyes, the way the gray turned into stormier blue, her eyes always gave away what emotion would crash onto the shore next. He could see the pain coming up, covering the waves of rage. “Do you know what you put your family through? How could you? What’s going on? What happened? I...I thought I would never see you again, I thought you left forever...you didn’t even leave a note...I...what happened to you?”
It was time. He grabbed her as her knees buckled and the sobs began to roll like thunder. She sobbed into his chest, clawed at his shirt, slammed fists against him in signals of anger, grief, confusion, relief and love. He let her cry, let her yell through her sobs, held her tight as she tried to steady her breathing, inhaled the familiar lavender scent of her hair and fought back his own tears, his own shame, his own guilt.
Freya didn’t know how long she cried, or how they had managed to walk the few blocks to the shore. It was all a haze of tears and her throat was hoarse from yelling at him. At Johnny. She never thought she’d get to yell at her friend ever again. Two weeks ago her entire world changed, her heart had cracked open when she got that message. She had gone through almost every stage of grief in two days, but had mostly lingered on denial. It didn’t make any sense to her that her friend would kill himself. They’d known each other since grade school, had seen each other through countless ups and downs, heartbreaks, had stayed true friends despite frequent moves to various states, had shared years of fun nights and bottoms of bottles, had known and understood one another on that deep, fundamentally important level that not many people get. They supported and loved each other in the truest sense of friendship. And yet, when the news finally reached her – a day after his family privately buried her best friend – she realized that maybe she didn’t know him at all. It was easier to feel anger than the deep pain and regret of thinking and knowing she had failed him, that she didn’t see the signs and couldn’t save him. The pain of not being able to save him, not knowing how much pain he had been in, it burned through her and filled her with shame. And now, he was somehow alive? He was sitting on the sand with her?
“Johnny, you need to tell me everything. You need to tell me what happened, how you’re alive, why everyone thinks you’re dead and why you’re here, 3 states away from your family.” she breathed it out and turned to face him, locking eyes with him finally before saying “But before you do, I need to apologize.”
Johnny looked back at her, confused for the first time since he sat across from her at the café. “Apologize? You need to apologize to me? For what, Freya? I’m here to apologize to you.” His brow was furrowed and his eyes were laced with guilt and remorse as he took her hands.
Freya shook her head, “Listen, I want to and need to hear your explanation, but I also need you to hear me. Losing you was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do, and what made it even worse was not knowing you were in pain. I failed you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it. But I’m sorry. Johnny I’m so sorry I failed you.” she managed to get out all of what she had dreamed she could tell him these last two weeks, even if her voice cracked and her chest quivered.
Johnny knew his actions, faking his own death, would cause irreparable damage and pain to the ones he loved. He knew he’d have to face the pain he caused, he had prepared himself for it, but that didn’t stop his heart from shattering as his friend apologized for things she didn’t need to. There wasn’t time to break down, though, he only had a small window to complete the next steps and he needed her help. He knew he would need her help before he faked his death two weeks ago. Locking down his regret and heartache, he took a deep breath and met her gaze again.
“Freya, you never need to apologize to me, especially for this. I owe you a lifetime of apologies but right now we don’t have time. I promise you will feel the complete magnitude of my regret after we’re done. But I’m here because I need your help and time is running out. Let me start at the beginning.”
