I remember watching cars turning ahead of us.
Signal lights blinking out of sync. We were driving down a main road, so a line of turning cars was unusual. Then I saw the police cars, roadblocks, ambulance lights splashing red and gold onto the houses around us.
As we approached the roadblock, I got a good look at the scene. I said, “Someone died. I can see the body on the ground.” Raindrops drifted slowly down the windows, reflecting streetlights, turning the windshield into a misty midnight galaxy.
“Yeah, that’s bad,” muttered my roommate, who was driving me to pick up my brother from work.
We made our way back onto the main road. The darkness ahead flashed red, illuminating a moody, empty street. As the lights faded, shadows fell upon the world around us.
The car door swung out as my brother climbed inside. Cold, damp air rushed in with him. “There’s a really bad accident on Route 322. Someone definitely died,” I informed our new passenger.
“Oh. Ok,” he said.
We drove in silence, then dropped him off before heading home. I was exhausted. My roommate and I had worked double shifts in the kitchen at the bar. So, I just changed into clean clothes, then I put my phone on silent and fell asleep.
Early the next morning, my roommate’s phone started ringing. That was odd. People knew we worked late and slept in most days.
“Oh my god,” I heard from the other room. Then, tap, tap, tap… He was knocking on my door? Very strange. He knows never to wake me up. Why did he say, ‘Oh my god’?
My stomach sank as I said, “Open.” He came in, eyes full of dread and fear. He held out the phone, “It’s your mom.” My heart leapt into my throat.
“Hello?”
“Nicole?”
Something terrible, I could tell by the way she said my name.
“What happened?”
“It’s Amanda.”
Silence. She didn’t need to say anything else. I knew.
“No…” I whispered. Tears flowed from my eyes, transforming the world around me into vague, blurred colors. Shadows crept over my heart as I sobbed the word again, “No.”
“I’m so sorry,” my mom said, her voice breaking.
“What about Connor?’ I said through quivering lips.
“He’s here. You should come home.”
“Ok.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
My hands fell then grasped at my face. Heaving sobs took over my whole being. Deep, aching pain flooded my body. I let it take control. My arms got heavy and my head lolled on my chest. My body shook with convulsive heaves.
I saw Amanda’s life flash before my eyes. All the magical adventures we went on. All the plans we had. I watched it all fade away.
Amanda and I were technically cousins but had grown up as close as sisters. Born just 5 months apart, all my life, Amanda was by my side. She was the leader, the strong one, the cool one. She was everything I wished I could be.
I closed my eyes… And clung to every memory I had of her.
There we were at five years old, in matching outfits going to the mall to tell Santa what we wanted for Christmas. Then we were seven, building puzzles with our grandmother as she lectured us about “not starting anything new until we were done with the first thing,” and “coloring the page exactly like the picture.”
Images of our ten-year-old selves playing hide and seek, flashlight tag, manhunt danced through my mind. Then we were twelve, having our first secret beer together in the basement. Next came boys, spending hours doing each other’s hair and makeup. Keeping a notebook of our darkest secrets. Stealing a stop sign just to prove we could.
Running away together for three hours. Then coming home and going to the drive-in movies to escape my mother’s wrath. Amanda always saved me, no matter what kind of trouble I got into.
I saw Connor right after he was born. I fell in love with that little boy instantly. Barely 16 years old, Amanda had gone from wild child to lady knight in the blink of an eye. I winced as I saw the time our cousin blew his hand off with a homemade firework.
I smiled at the thought of Amanda’s high school graduation where I was so proud. My college graduation where she showed me nothing but love even though I knew it sometimes broke her heart she couldn’t have a “normal” life.
Fast forward to one New Year’s Eve in our twenties. I had the flu but we partied all night anyway. All those years when her best friend was in love with her and I was in love with her best friend. My 26th birthday when I took her to the strip club for the first time.
Amanda made even grocery shopping seem magical. Crazy nights. Hungover days. Bonfires and beer. Laughing till we cried then passing out after talking until at 4am. Watching her sketch and being in awe. Seeing her tame all the boys with her eyes, like a rancher breaking wild stallions.
Listening to her talk about going back to school, becoming a mechanic, maybe joining the military. She was always the brave one.
Stalking cheating boyfriends, confronting them, then walking away laughing. Easter at our aunt’s house. Thanksgiving at our uncle’s. Life sparkled with her by my side. We did everything together.
We did.
Not anymore.
My mind snapped back to the present moment. Overpowering aching loss washed over me again, like a wave crashing into a weak building. How could Amanda be gone? I just talked to her. What was the last thing I said? Was it “Love you”?
I should have said, “I love you, I love you so much. I need you in my life so get your shit together. Oh, and I love you.”
Amanda was at a bar the night before I got that terrible phone call. It was the same bar she always went to. On the same road she always drove. But that night, she didn’t drive. That night, she was too drunk to drive. So, she got onto the back of a motorcycle with our friend, Lucky.
He was drunk.
The driver of the minivan that hit them was also drunk. He turned left onto the street they were driving down. Lucky was going about 70mph when his bike collided with the driver’s side front tire. He died instantly when his head slammed into the frame of the vehicle. My cousin wasn’t so lucky.
Amanda flew off the back of the motorcycle, over the top of the minivan, and skidded across the pavement. She was knocked unconscious. A woman saw the accident. She ran to Amanda’s side and called 911. She stayed with her until the ambulance arrived. Amanda was rushed to the hospital where they tried to save her.
Her mom was there. My mom was there. My cousins and siblings were all there. Where was I? Sleeping. Because I turned my phone on silent.
She never woke up.
The accident we saw while going to get my brother was where Amanda had her last ride. It was Lucky’s dead body on the road. His lifeless corpse covered with a white sheet. The ambulance I stared at was there for Amanda.
I never got to say goodbye. By the time I got the news, Amanda had been gone for hours. I drove right by her and didn’t know. I slept peacefully that night when I should have been by her side.
Her son, Connor, was at my house. So that’s where I went. Amanda’s little soldier held me while I cried. He kept asking to see her. He was only ten and his whole world was destroyed. I understood. He just wanted to see her face one last time. I gave him a picture of her. He’d sleep with it under his pillow for the next five years.
I thought I was done with tears when the funeral came around. My brother, my aunt, and I spent the night before the funeral writing a poem in honor of Amanda. I made my brother read it at her service because I knew I couldn’t.
All our friends came to give their condolences and the tears crept back into my eyes. They flowed like lava down my cheeks. Unstoppable streams of grief. Then I saw Amanda’s best friend. I ran over to her. My knees buckled and a hideous sob erupted from my chest. I felt her bite back tears as she lied to me, “It’s ok.”
Trying to leash my emotions, I took a deep breath. I managed to pull myself together as we went outside, waiting to leave for the cemetery. People kept coming to talk to me. I felt weaker and weaker. Everyone knew Amanda. Everyone knew me. They all knew we were a pair. I felt like a fairy that lost its wings. The most magical part of my life had been ripped from my very soul. I would never fly again. Everyone knew it.
It was time for the procession. We got into our cars and began the march. A drizzly rain formed small rivers on my windshield. I mindlessly followed the taillights in front of me. Flashes of Amanda’s beautiful smile came and went as cars passed by. All the “what if’s” floated in and out of focus. All the “should have’s” kicked at my heart with each bump in the road.
There was a small tent over the burial site. Amanda had gone to that same spot every single year on our grandmother’s birthday. She always planted flowers for her. Now it would be my turn to plant flowers for Amanda.
The family headstone loomed over a fresh, shallow grave. We gathered around and waited for the priest to arrive. Forty-five minutes later we called the church.
He had forgotten. Amanda would have been laughing, so we tried to, too.
An hour and a half after standing in the cold October rain, he finally showed up. A brief perfunctory speech preceded the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Throughout this whole ordeal my mother hadn’t cried. Not one tear.
Amanda was cremated. Her ashes were in a tiny box wrapped in her baby blanket. Her mother had been clutching it with all her might since we left the church. My mom gently took the box and placed it reverently in the ground. She began moving the dirt onto it.
As the dirt crumbled, so did my mother. A wave of sobs rose from her toes. She fell to her knees, pressing her face into the ground. “She was so beautiful,” my mom said in a weak, shaky voice.
My uncle scoffed and walked away. His family followed. Everyone left one by one, until it was just me and my mother. I couldn’t watch anymore. I helped her up and said, “Let’s go, mom. It’s time to go.” She nodded, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and walked back to her car. For some reason, I couldn’t leave.
I stared at Amanda’s grave. My feet frozen. My mind swirled in chaos. The tears flowed freely, dripping onto the ground, mingling with raindrops. My best friend, my beautiful sister, my magical, adventurous partner in crime was in some box, buried in the family plot.
It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t be gone. She wasn’t supposed to leave us. We’re not supposed to finish this journey alone. Her son needs her. She promised she’d never leave him.
I needed my sister, right then, right there. I needed her to save me one last time. But she was gone. She was never coming back. I was alone now. I didn’t realize it until that moment. That was the day I finally had to grow up. That was the day the magic died.
