Chapter One
Sometimes on cool nights, I like to look up at the stars and get lost in them. I like to think that I’m a sailor, sailing on the open sea looking up at the sky, admiring their brightness, and following the stars to get to wherever they are going. I consider myself to be a sailor at times, because I know that my best friend is up there, leading me out of darkness with her brightness she left behind a year ago.
It was a chilly spring day in the small town of Ember Springs, when Ashley walked past the local library to go over to her best friend’s house. Her friends name was an uncommon and sort of strange name. Her name was Seashell, and there was a story behind the meaning of her name. When Seashell was born in the Ember Springs Hospital, all the nurses and doctors were shocked at Sarah, the mother of Seashell, at why in the world would she name her daughter Seashell! But her mother only smiled with joy and a pinch of pain in her eyes and said, “The only reason why I gave her this name is in memory of her father.”
It’s a sad story that a lot of people still remember to this day. One day after her father was picking seashells on the beach for her mom as a gift (her mom loved to collect them and put them in canning jars) and someone came up to him, who wanted him dead for some reason and shot him three times in the chest. When the police came, they took his body away and promised her mom that they would find the person who killed him. But after months of searching, they didn’t find the murderer alive. They found him dead in his own bed.
Ashley shook her head. “Don’t think about that tragic memory, not today.” She scolded herself. When she arrived at Seashell’s house, she rang the doorbell and Ms. Vela answered the door, munching on an apple loudly.
“Come on in, Ashley! She’s in the living room.” She said, letting me in.
I walked thru the kitchen, took a right out of the kitchen, and into the living room. Seashell was in a full lotus, and she was humming. Scented candles were lit, and the fumes hit you in the face right when you walked in. Sniff, sniff. Cinnamon scented. I smiled, and quietly sat down next to her and hummed right along. She opened one eye, and grinned.
“You’re late.” She accused. I grinned back.
“I’m sorry! I got distracted!” I teased her.
“Uh huh, right.” Seashell rolled her eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”
“Yes master, I promise I’ll be on time next time.” I say, in a creepy Igor impersonation. She laughed, and got up, and stood up.
“Mom! We’re going to the beach since slow poke is here!” she hollers up the stairs.
“Okay! Just be back by six okay?”
“Got it!” she answers, still hollering.
“Have fun!”
“We will!” she looks at me, and slips on her shoes, and a light spring jacket. “Ready?” she asks me.
“I’m always ready, for being a slow poke that is.” I wink at her, as I also slip my shoes and coat back on.
“That’s your new nick name. Race you to the beach!” she challenges and sprints out the door.
“You cheater!” I yell at her and sprint out the door, following her.
We laughed all the way there, not having a care in the world. Seashell beaten me to the beach as always. She had a lot of energy, even thou she’s been sick with a cold lately. I stopped running, out of breath and walked over to the shore. The beach was so pretty in the spring, and then I started to remember the first time I met Robert.
Robert was a 6”5, blond hair, blue eyed boy that she became friends with when she was in middle school, around fifth grade; He as a smart, handsome, all A’s student. He was also amazing with words, so often that you would have thought that he was speaking in tongues. After four years of middle school and two years of high school, he finally asked her out. She was shocked, because she thought that he would NEVER have the guts to ask her out. None less, she was very happy like an over stuffed turkey at Thanksgiving. One summer night in June, they snuck out and had dinner by candle light. They also had their first kiss that night; it surely was magical.
Then, tragedy came that turned her world upside down. One day on a Friday at school, he wasn’t acting like himself. He went home early and went to bed early. He was depressed for the last couple of weeks, taking his own life by swallowing a whole bottle of aspirin. When her parents broke the news to her later that night, she couldn’t control herself. She sobbed for hours, and kept on saying, “I never got to say goodbye.” Over and over again, until her voice was sore. Her mom held her arms, rocking her back and forth, her heart breaking along with her daughters. “He was such a great kid, why did he take his life away? Too young.” She thought to herself, late into the night after Ashley finally fell asleep.
Today marked the day of the 2nd year anniversary of his death. It only seemed like yesterday I fell in love with Robert. I never told him that I loved him, but I knew that he knew. Our relationship was strong up until that point. Sometimes I still feel like it was my fault that he committed suicide. But I learned that he wasn’t happy anymore, and that he didn’t want to suffer anymore. And I know, in my heart that our love was strong, and still is strong even after death. I felt tears forming, as the memory began to slip away. I didn’t want Seashell to see, but she did.
“Ash? Are you okay?” she asked softly, coming up next to me. “Are you thinking about Robert again?” she asks again, her eyes full of love and concern.
“Yeah.” I reply. Then she reaches up, and wipes away a falling tear. “Let’s go.” She says, and grabs my hand and pulls me off the beach. We walk back to her house and it felt like Robert took my left hand, guiding me back to reality.
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