Relativity

This story is by Angel Amou and was part of our 2017 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

I stumble over the railings and catch myself before the ground does. I trip on my skirt and gravity takes its toll on me once more. The cement floor is cold and rough but my senses do not register until the pain kicks in. By that time, I’m already on my feet again, running and running as fast as I can, which is not very fast, mind you. You were always the star athlete, just the way you were always the brilliant student, the moral compass and, more importantly, my best friend. The momentum under my feet carries me with the wind, I am too tired, too desperate to stop. You will be gone in three minutes. Oh, Ember, Ember will I ever see you again?

Bits of our history flash in my mind, fitting like an intricate puzzle. But the missing piece is not in my hands; it is in yours. What I don’t understand is:? Why didn’t you tell me? The question hurts so much, I numbed it with another memory.

Now you’re on a train to Chicago to catch your future, while leaving mine behind.

The wind taunts me as it gently slaps my face. I have left the town behind me and the dusty road leading to the train station draws nearer and nearer. It is hard to imagine that this is the place our friendship would come to an end.

People glare at me as I push through the crowd to find you. The train has already arrived and the thumping of my heartbeat counts down the seconds I have left. The flame of your hair catches my eye. I scream your name as I wade through the sea of people to reach you. You are like the clouds, moving so slowly but impossible to grasp.

I am in front of you, but you have already boarded the train. Your expression is calm but your eyes tell a different story. I see your face for probably the last time, and it’s like time stops; someone hits the pause button and rewinds my mind to make it all click when I finally come to a realization.

Time winds forward again at such a speed that I don’t even comprehend that I’m back in front of your two-seconds-to-departing train until you speak. Perhaps you remember the last words you said to me?

You said: “ I have found my future, Drenna. I hope you find yours.”

Did you want to say more? Fifteen years of friendship summarized in eleven words. That’s a record.

The whistle of your departure drowned my thoughts and whatever persuasion I was going to use to beg you to stay. It is hopeless; the adrenaline that had surged through my body is whisked away. I collapse onto the floor in a heap of hurt. So much hurt that the expected tears remain unshed in my shattered heart. And in a split second, a moment that I would hold onto forever, you were gone from the very future you had just wished for me.

But I understand, Ember, and this is me telling you that I forgive you and that I’d let you go. The instant you left me alone at the train station, I found myself. I sat there on a wooden bench, contemplating over you, over me, over us. But there was no us anymore. So I thought about me. There was this whole revolution in my thinking. The eleven words you uttered to me that day changed my world. My life was not in yours, or in the fate of the stars. It was mine to maneuver.

Honestly, I thought it would take me another fifteen years to get over you and find my own way, but, really, all it took me was three short minutes.