Night Marchers Read online

CHAPTER 3 (BON VOYAGE)

  “Emma, can you grab the door?” Kaylee asks, bringing me back to the present.

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “The door, can you get the door?” Kaylee repeats. She’s carrying three trays of food in her arms. I feel bad; here she is doing her best to throw me a going away party and I’m totally checking out on her. I’m determined to straighten up and start acting like I appreciate this considerate gesture that my best friend is doing for me. Plastering a smile on my face, I get up and head to the door… Time to party one last time with my Texas friends...

  Three hours later it’s just Kaylee and I cleaning up all the plates, coke cans and chip bags. There wasn’t much to clean up. After all, there is no furniture left in the house. It’s all been packed up, including my comfy couch and taken to storage.

  I turn around and see Kaylee standing in the corner painstakingly rolling up leftover crape paper. Her shoulders are hunched over with her hair hanging low covering her face. As I walk over to her I can hear the small whimpers escaping her. “Kaylee…” reaching out I turn her to me. She looks up slowly, catching my eyes. Hers are red and rimmed with tears. That’s all it takes and we’re in each other’s arms, holding on for dear life and crying. We stand there for what seems like forever not saying a word, avoiding the goodbye that will inevitably come.

  “Emma,” Kaylee says as she eventually pulls away. She takes my shoulders in her hands and looks me straight in the eye. She does her best to make her face strong, but I’ve known her long enough to see the pain she’s clearly hiding. “We are sisters, and we always will be. No distance could ever separate us. I love you so much, and you will always be my best friend, infinitely. Right now this may not seem like the best thing, but when we’re old we’ll look back on this and laugh. This is just a road bump in our lives and we will get through this, together.” She reaches down and squeezes my hand to extenuate her point. It’s just like her to be the mother hen in our relationship. She is the constant in my life and I’m repeatedly amazed by how she handles tough situations. After all this is happening to her too. If it weren’t for her consistent encouragement I’m not sure how I would be handling this move. She’s made sure over the past several days to correct me when I’m being bitter and complaining about this ‘hand’ I’ve been dealt.

  Kaylee continues, “I got you a little something and I want to give it to you before you leave.” She hands me a small box wrapped in pink paper.

  I smile all the while mentally kicking myself for not thinking about getting her something in return. “You really shouldn’t have gotten me anything. You already went out of your way to throw me such an amazing going away party!”

  She just looks at me with a steady face, “It’s not a huge deal; it’s just something that I wanted you to have.”

  I carefully peel the wrapping back and open the box. I shuffle around the paper inside and pull out a beautiful cobalt blue sealed jar. I knew instantly what was inside… air.

  It’s my thing, my collection. Most people might see this as weird, but I’m not like most people. Usually collections consist of certain types of objects like stamps, coins, postcards, cookbooks, or maybe even sand from different beaches. To me, these are such common things to collect. I wanted something unique, one of a kind even. Of course, I have heard of some very bizarre collections over the years: belly button lint, barf bags from airplanes, toilet seat covers, sugar packets, burnt food, and unscratched lottery tickets. The last one I completely don’t understand. This person could have numerous lottery tickets worth tons of cash, but he refused to scratch them for the sake of his collection. The first time people hear I collect air, they usually get this scrunched up look on their face like they’re constipated. Then they ask how I could possibly collect something as intangible as air. Simply put I have these small glass jars that have a wax-sealed lid. When I was younger I used to collect air from places my dad took me to for work, as my memento from traveling. As I grew older and no longer accompanied my dad I collected it in places that were special to me, places I wanted to keep with me forever. I’m not sure where I originally got this idea from, but it has been there as long as I can remember. I have samples of air from all over the globe: Melbourne Australia, Taipei Taiwan, Karachi Pakistan, and Baguio City Philippines. These are just a few of the hundred or so bottles I possess.

  I look at the label on the jar. It says, ‘Kaylee and Emma’s secret hiding spot.’ I laugh when I think about how it’s not really that secret of a place. It’s actually just a rooftop of a nearby Dunkin’ Donuts. I’m sure we weren’t supposed to climb the ladder on the side of the donut shop but one day Kaylee dared me to climb it. She followed and when we got to the top I knew it was going to be our secret place. We could see far off into the horizon from that height, yet still be hidden from the public eye. After that day we would often sneak out to the roof at night to gaze up at the stars and talk about everything from our dreams, to boys, to the tests we had the next day. It may have just been a plain old rooftop but it will always hold a special place near and dear to my heart. “Kaylee, this is perfect,” I whisper.

  I wrap her up in a great big hug, knowing she’ll have to leave soon. I drag the moment out as long as I can.

  “Kaylee...”

  “No, don’t say it. We can’t say the GB word because it’s not; it’s an I’ll see you later that I want to hear.”

  I smile and let my shoulders fall briefly before composing myself. “You’re right Kaylee, I will see you later.” She lays her hand on my shoulder for a moment before turning towards the door.

  “You better text me everyday,” Kaylee starts, “I want to hear everything!”

  “I will Kaylee, I promise.”

  She grabs my pinkie finger in hers, “Best friends infinitely?”

  “Best friends infinitely,” I repeat. She turns around, slowly twisting the knob and leaves without looking back.