“You'll be back before you know it,” said your best friend, April, almost a year ago. You heard her voice slightly crack so you gave her a hug, and it became longer than you had originally intended. She wouldn't let go. You wouldn't let go. Because you knew that if you let go, you would be forced to go on that plane. And you hate flying, you really do.
oOoOo
It's the first day of your first summer away from home, and for the first time in perhaps forever, you're all alone. So you start cleaning the house, but in the heat, you find yourself cursing at everything in your sight. Damn lamp. Stupid chair. Fucking dirty stove.
Cleaning lost its appeal pretty fast so you grab your keys and head out. You decide to go to the coffee shop to get not coffee, but an iced tea, because it's scorching hot and your throat can't handle the rich and creamy. After finding a table you look around and find yourself rolling your eyes at the sound of laughter coming from a group of high schoolers. You pause. What has become of me, you thought. But you shrug it off. You convince yourself that you're OK. With being bitter.
It's not like I'm lonely or anything, you tell yourself. But you know perfectly well that you are. You need to get away, so you walk to the beach, with that iced tea in your hand. You know you're not going to find an empty spot but it's only a couple of blocks away from the apartment so you cave in. And besides, you need the crowd. Or at least the noise.
You must have been walking for a solid half of an hour when you finally found a vacant spot of sand so you plop down. You're sitting close to the water. The sand is wet, so your butt is wet. But you're not about to complain. You're drained. Physically and the other way too. You're just too tired. You just want to stare into space. Or at the sun when it sets. Whichever distracts you first.
oOoOo
It was two weeks before your departure and you had been trying to spend as much time possible with the people around you. You scored some beach time with April, your best friend since you can remember.
“Why do you do that,” she asked. “Every time I say something about how awesome you're gonna be out there, you just... shut down,” she explained, recognizing a confused look on your face. What she failed to see, though, was that you were faking the confusion. It was just a stalling method that you had perfected over the years.
You shrugged, and put on your best nonchalant face. Another routine perfected.
“You know, you're gonna be out of here in two weeks,” she said, eyes busy observing the sandcastle you built together. “The least you can do is not become a robot.”
She stopped working on the castle for a second and reached her sand soiled hand to tap your shoulder. You turned around to face her.
“I'm gonna be alone too, you know,” she said. You opened your mouth to say something but reverted to filling the bucket with more sand and concentrated on the castle. She sighed and it's the saddest sigh you had ever heard.
oOoOo
A weak tug came out of nowhere pulling on your t-shirt and it made you jump. So before you turn around you mentally prepare yourself for a maniac, or worst, someone asking for your spot. But instead of a maniac, you find a little girl staring at you instead.
“Your sand is wet,” she said.
You tried to keep your bitterness out of the way but when you tell her that it's because you're so close to the water and practically sitting in it, it came out even harsher. Lucky for you, she didn't run back crying to her mother. She just drops down onto what little space there is next to you and starts filling up her bucket with sand.
“I need the wet sand,” she explains, not even bothering to detach herself from her activity. “I can't make a castle without it. My mom said her dress is too pretty to sit on wet sand,” she jerks her chin, pointing you to a woman, sitting on a towel with an apologetic smile on her face. You give her a nod and a polite, but faint smile.
The little girl starts building her first tower and for 10 minutes you pretend you're not interested. But children are your weakness. When that tower crumbles down you can't help but gasp disappointedly, feeling sorry for your visitor (you wanted to call her your minion, but the lack of interaction works against it). She looks at you with her eyes widened.
“Did you just... gasp,” she asked. “Because you did. I heard you.”
You look at her confused, and not the kind of confused that you practiced over the years. Your confusion, this time, is genuine.
Seeing your reaction, she goes back to filling up her bucket with sand. “It's just that you're so quiet. You're like a sleeping robot,” she shrugs like it's her job. You roll your eyes at the word. You've been called that way so many times you start to wonder if, like what April said a week ago, you really are turning into a robot.
“I'm gonna make the most awesomest castle ever,” she eyes you once again before pushing her plastic shovel your way. “You can help,” she finishes.
oOoOo
“Let's make a rule,” you said to April during a free period back in junior year. “If you get to call me a robot, I get to call you one too,” you finished your proposal. She stopped shoving her books into her locker and raised one of her eyebrows at what you just said.
“Look, I know I can be frustrating sometimes. I always let on what I'm feeling, and I know you don't like it. But I'm not the only one. You didn't tell me you have a crush on him. You're a robot too sometimes, you know?” That wasn't a question. It was a statement and you knew that it would tick her off. She huffed.
“I'm not gonna say that I'm not, but really Sam? This is how you apologize? Because you suck at it,” she said as she starts to continue shoving books. “And FYI, just because I'm talking to you now, it doesn't mean I've forgiven you.” She closed her locker with a slam and walked away.
You started to panic. You grabbed her arm and explained that the only reason you went on a date with that guy from Bio was because he's been annoyingly persistent. You didn't even like him. You went on and on and out of your way to tell her approximately 27 things that you didn't like about him. Somewhere around fifteen, she stopped walking and listened to you with her arms crossed.
“April,” you said when you were done. “You never told me you like him. I never knew. I'm sorry. You can have him.”
She didn't say anything but linked your arms together and practically dragged you to English.
Forty minutes later a crumpled piece of paper arrived on your desk. You opened it up to find April's handwriting. It said, “no more robots. We tell each other everything.”
You still have that piece of paper in a keepsake box somewhere in the closet.
oOoOo
The first time you called home you spent an hour talking to your mom, then two talking to April.
The second time was the opposite.
The third time, your mom had to cut it short. April didn't answer.
The fourth time, your mom didn't answer. But you talked to April for an hour, so it's good.
The fifth time never happened. Classes began and each one sucked all of your time and energy that you slowly morphed into a zombie. You were alive. Just not living. Between all your classes and all the money that your dad is spending for you, you made a deal with yourself to go down the torturous path. To take too many credits and get too little sleep.
When that Skype invitation blinked on your screen that week, you pressed the ignore button and continued cramming your brain with words like sinoatrial node, myocytes, ventricles and pericardium. You earned yourself a hard A that week, but steadily losing everything else.
Days became weeks and weeks became months. And one day you realized that you went through a total of 126 days without your best friend. Sure, you still text. But there's only so much a text could do and it's not enough. So the moment you got off the bus you sprinted to the apartment, to your bedroom, to your desk, and called her from Skype. She picked up the phone after the second ring and you talked for hours even if that meant you were going to pull an all-nighter for a test the next day.
oOoOo
“What's your name,” you ask the 8-year-old next to you.
“Alli.”
“From Allison,” you ask again.
She shakes her head and told you that it's from Alexandra. You tell her it's a beautiful name then you tell her yours, “Sam. Samantha.”
Alli spends the next 15 minutes trying to convince you that you're an Ashley.
oOoOo
A month ago your phone went off in the middle of the night to a text from April. You smiled at the ridiculous nickname blinking on your phone screen.
A-Swag: Sammonella. Class over. U gonna call me or what? :P -xo
You didn't waste anytime and dialed her number. She picked up after the 9th tone.
“Hey.”
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you did that on purpose,” you said.
“Did what,” she asked. But you knew she had a smirk on her face.
“Bitch, you totally waited to let it ring nine times,” you went with your best angry voice but you were half asleep when that text came so you scoffed at the failure that you are before laughing along with your best friend. You talked about nothing important but all the nothingness meant everything. There was a ridiculous amount of friendshippy clichés that both of you hurl at each other but you just couldn't care less. You're homesick.
“I gotta run,” she said after a good 20 minutes. “They're waiting for me.”
“What? Who?”
She gave you a list of names of people you used to be close with. You tried to keep her on the phone for at least 15 more minutes and she did. But she also tried to reason a way out and you became annoyed. That flicked your robo-switch on.
“They're your friends too,” she said. “We've known them forever.”
“Fine,” you said after a long pause. Your walls just went up. “Go.”
You clicked a button and ended the call without giving her a chance to say goodbye.
You got another text message not long after that.
A-Swag: Saaaaammmyyyy. U jealous? ;) -xo
You stared at it for a solid 10 minutes. Then came another one.
A-Swag: I know u hv ur phone in ur hands & ur reading this. I know it's hard out there so hang tough. Sorry abt earlier. Can't ditch our friends tho, rite? Txt u tomorrow! -xo
You hit 'reply' and tried to find the words to politely say that yes, she could've just ditched your friends. Yes, it's hard being alone out here and Goddammit, yes, it would've made it so much better if she had spent her free time to talk to you instead of hanging out with your other friends. But you suck at stringing words together so you canceled the text. You crawled under the comforter and chose to go to sleep instead.
Morning came and you found yet another text.
A-Swag: No silly robot, Sam.
You contemplated throwing your phone at the wall.
oOoOo
“I still don't get the big deal, Samantha,” she said last week. Both of you were video chatting, and fighting, on Skype. She had resorted to calling you by your full name which could only mean one thing: frustration. Sometimes you hated that her name is just April. But you took a jab anyway by emphasizing on her name, “you see these people everyday, April.”
“Not every day. We're all scattered too.”
You scoffed. “Yeah, well, that's only fair, isn't it,” you said, keeping an eye contact that became a full on staring contest. You thought you were winning, but no. You saw it. She found you. She found the real argument and you hated that she knows you too well.
“OK,” she started. She was speaking in an anger that wasn't there before. For a moment there you were scared. But you let her continue.
“First of all, no. No, it's not fair that we're all in different places but you know what, Sammy,” you heard her stress on your name and it didn't sound pleasant. “There's nothing we can do about it. Did I want this to happen? No. Did we always want to go our separate ways? Well, I can tell you right now that I've never wanted it. Am I the one who decided to fly 10,000 miles away from everything? No. You did, Sam. You. Did,” She always talks with her hands and with that last remark, she pointed at the camera. She knew you never appreciated being pointed at. She ticked you off on purpose because you ticked her off. It's a vicious cycle but you're not ready to give in.
“Don't you play that card with me, April. What happened to you being all, 'aww, Sammy, we can chat all the time, video Skype, text. I promise you we will',” you did a mocking impression of your best friend because two could play this game.
“And didn't we do that? Don't I text you all the time? Don't we Skype? What the hell do you want from me,” she yelled at you, throwing her hands up.
You knew she was stating a fact and you struggled to find an answer. But by then you were already feeling as hostile as your speaking opponent, “you know what? Forget it. It doesn't fucking matter what I feel!”
“Yes it does! And FYI, I already know what you feel! You're friggin' lonely,” April countered your screaming with hers. You made a mental note about her lung power.
“I'm fine!”
“Well, you don't seem like you're fine! Jeez, Sam. Robot much,” she fought your lie. But that last one struck a cord and you just lost it.
“Oh no, April. You do not get to 'robot' me! Because you know what? You lied,” you yelled at your computer screen. “You said, and I remember specifically, that you're gonna be alone too! I don't see you moping around like me. You lied! You get to have fun with all our friends, while I get to have no one!”
There was a silence before April finally started talking. “You want me to mope around because you mope around,” she confirmed with a quiet voice which gradually got louder. Clearly she wasn't looking for an answer from you. “You want me to be lonely too? Well, isn't that just fan-fucking-tastic, Samantha?”
You felt a rush of guilt in you but before you said anything, she turned off her Skype.
You haven't Skyped, called, emailed nor texted her since then.
oOoOo
“WAIT! SAM! STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING,” Alli shrieks at you so you did what she asked.
“What does it look like I'm doing? Making a moat. Every castle needs a moat, Alli,” you explain to her and she rolls her eyes at you. There's a big d'uh coming. You can feel it.
“D'uh,” there it is. “I know that,” she said. “But why,” she points to the moat, ”does the moat have to be a heart?”
You look at the moat, then you look at Alli. You don't see what's wrong with making a heart-shaped moat, really. But the little girl's face is dead serious so you decided to play along.
“You don't like hearts,” you cross your arms.
“I love hearts. I draw them all the time,” Alli answers but not before a big long sigh.
“Then what's the problem,” you ask her again.
“It's just that... OK, promise me you won't laugh,” she says while searching your face for that promise. You nod and make a cross on your heart. Satisfied with your vow, Alli tells you her answer.
“The whole point of making a moat is to keep people away,” she pauses tentatively, figuring out if you know what she means, and you do. So once again you nod.
“If you made a heart-shaped moat... isn't it kinda sad,” she asks. You try to put two and two together but before you get to four, you hear her voice again. “My mom told me that we're supposed to use our hearts to keep people we love. Not to keep them away. You can't make a heart-shaped moat. You just can't. It's not right.”
For a moment there the 8-year-old's eyes linger at yours. You don't know why but it grows into a very uncomfortable stare so you avert your eyes back down. You want to say something— anything to counter Alli's answer, but the longer you think about it, the more it messes with your brain. But then you finally get it. There's a memory that's coming back, and you don't know how to react to it. So you settle with smoothing out your moat on the sand and making a new one. A boring old circle this time.
This is ridiculous, you thought. She's ridiculous.
oOoOo
That night, your finger hovered above the send button on your phone for quite a while before you actually press it. It's not much of a text. It just says, 'hey,' but you're worried it's too much. It's been a week since your big fight and somehow you managed to convince yourself that it's OK if you get no reply.
But the phone went off and you did.
A-swag: Hey.
You: How's ur day?
A-swag: cud b better. So far it sucks. and no, i'm not gonna write it as sux. ew.
You: saves characters, I guess. :shrugs: hey A-swag...
A-swag: we're not doing apologies, Sammonella. We're good.
You: We are? And btw that nickname has GOT to go.
A-swag: No! It's disgusting and I like it. And not just cuz I came up w/ it. And yes, we are :)
You: yay :) I don't deserve u.
A-swag: double yay :) and yeah u don't :P
You: oh hey. Went to the beach. Made a castle. With an 8 yr old. Yep. that's how I roll.
A-swag: and u wonder why ur stuck with a shitty nickname.
You: shut up Ass-wag! >:P
A-swag: heeeey! >:\
You: that's what u get for calling me disgusting. Btw, I made the moat.
A-swag: for the sandcastle? Let me guess. A heart?
You: yep.
A-swag: ur not supposed to do that. :\ didn't we talk about this in 4th grade?
You: we did. I just forgot. The kid totally schooled me about it. She wanted to call me ashley btw.
A-swag: means u can be the real Ass-wag! Or Ash-wag. I'm likin' this kid already >:) Hey I gotta run. Class. Skype l8r?
You: fo' sho. ;)
A-swag: I hate that ur far away. sorry I can't b there :(
You: wth, April? Thought we're not doing sorries. But yeah, sorry for bein' dumb. :(
A-swag: we're such saps.
You: we are. but u love me for that. -xo
A-swag: Pfft. Bitch, pls. You love ME for that. -xo
oOoOo
The next morning you wake up with a smile that's been absent for quite a while. Of course, you thought to yourself. You know why and you wouldn't have it any other way.
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