20 of 50 Songs and Chapters Dedicated to the Friend I Lost Too Soon

"Hello?" I had my phone up to my ear, but away by a couple inches. I was hoping it'd be different for the circumstances, since I was away from home and all, but neither of my parents ever called me unless they were angry or had depressing news. They weren't the type to call to check in and go on with their lives right after. They came to destruct.

It's probably what contributed to my phobia of phone calls. Over time, I couldn't help but to associate them with bad news.

"Jaiva? I have something to tell you." It was my mom. I could never know. My parents would pick up the first phone they see in the rare they did call, so a lot of those times I'd hear my mom's voice on the end of my dad's contact ID, and vice versa. Her calling from her own phone actually caught me off guard.

That probably meant she was alone. How could she be alone though? My mom and dad were always together. They were home a lot, but when they went out, they went out as two.

My subconscious already had a feeling that was a bad sign, but on my outer shell, I didn't let myself get entangled in it so quickly. "Yeah? What is it?" I asked, naturally, as if I suspected nothing.

"Your father and I--," she paused, making whatever it was circle around the top of my head. It made the situation more dramatic, which I could've easily done without. "We're getting divorced."

"What? Mom, what are you saying? Can we discuss this first?" I blinked to hold back what was gradually becoming more and more dampened, blushing to catch sight of Jewee beside me, who clearly wondered what the heck was going on, which was a given. I wanted privacy, but I feared hanging up the phone now and asking for later would make me miss out on the one chance she gave me to change things. I had to go with it, despite the listening ear. "You can't just--. Mom, no. I can't believe this. We have to talk this through!"

"There's nothing to talk through, Jai. Too many things have changed. Nothing seems to be the same anymore. It's for the better. Yeah, it's what's best. I just called to tell you the truth. You deserve to know."

It's because I'm sick and because I'm dying. It's my fault, I thought to myself, and the idea soaked my body the way it feels when you're pushed into a pool on a freezing day. I shivered in the middle of a hot city, cold to the touch. "I know Ma. Things are different now, but it's nothing you guys can't overcome. Sit and talk to each other!"

A world where my parents weren't together is one I didn't know. They've taught me everything I know about closeness, bond and relationships, and though nothing of the sort has gone well for me in the past, I don't want to imagine where I'd be if I didn't know them. I've witnessed absolute bliss for my entire life, and watching that melt into nothing -- I couldn't bear to look at it.

Jewee coughed. My mom then wouldn't answer my question. One mumble of life from that man and everything goes from sideways to upside down.

He might be famous and of higher status, and generally my mother is a respectful person, but when she's in a mood, she doesn't respect anyone.

It's her flaw. Everyone has one, and this was hers. I'm not defending her for it. In fact, I wish I was allowed to yell at her, but that wouldn't make this better.

We all know what happened last time I raised my voice, and directing it at her would cut my days shorter. With emotions at this level and having no self control within her, she was unstoppable.

Unstoppable and fire-breathing.

"Jewee's with you? Put me on speaker," she commanded, and when I sighed for what was about to come and out of apology for having to include him, she thought I was backing out. She had to speak up again, this time, more demanding. "Put me on speaker, Jaiva. I need to speak with him. I have something to say."

Against my will, I did as she asked. Jewee peeked in his side vision at my phone screen that I now held in between the two of us, puzzled, but soon realizing he was to be part of my knocking but uninvited dread.

"Hi, Madam. How are you doing?" He said politely. In his shaky voice was pity for me, I believe, meaning he's overheard everything she said to me, but he didn't intend to show it. He was putting his best foot forward to be nice to my mother.

"I hope you're keeping an eye on my daughter out there, Jewee Kyler." She didn't acknowledge his greeting, but barged ahead with what she needed his attention so desperately for. Her voice sounded polite too, but it was fake. I knew it was, but I don't know if Jewee realized the same. "She's fragile. You know that. You met her in a hospital for goodness sake. She's not going too crazy, is she?"

Oh no. I can predict easily where this was going. She spills secrets when she's acting this way. She tells things aloud that have been purposely kept on the down-low. She makes a road rocky when it was going smoothly.

"Mom, please don't--," I attempted intervening.

Jewee nodded, oblivious, and though she couldn't see him from the other end of the line, I could. It made my heart ache. This innocent person is about to be dragged down with me, and we're going to be chewed out together, but he's calling her like she's royalty. "I think all is going well, Madam."

"You think?" It was the beginning of her wrath -- a wrath that was lethal to me. "You are aware that she wasn't supposed to leave her own home, right? Or did she not tell you that? Of course she didn't, huh? Because she wants to be out and about when she shouldn't be. She wants a freedom that we wouldn't have given her so that she can cut off her own life. You know that the doctors wouldn't let you see her twice. What makes you think out of the blue she's allowed to go wherever she pleases? Have you thought about that?"

What is she saying? You're not supposed to be here? Then why--? He mouthed it in silence, no syllable verbally making a sound, besides maybe a faint whisper here and there.

I felt bad for him on one side -- he was taking in punishment he didn't deserve to, but on the other hand, I was scared of him. He was angry with me all over again.

His smile had fallen from his panic, but it rose again so he could give my mother the answer that she wanted to hear. "Madam, I promise you she is very much okay. So well, in fact, that most would think she's better off than I am."

How could I hate him so much for an apparent lie only to be so thankful for his full-on lie later on? Because that I am, and I can't deny that.

As hypocritical as it makes every single day I've lived recently, it's understandable isn't it? It's common sense he's soaring much higher above me, in every aspect imaginable, and what he said -- it's the complete opposite. He's praising me built off of nothing.

"Alright, Jewee. I'm gonna trust you because I don't think you have any reason to tell me anything besides the truth." I knew that phrase all too well, and it could mean two very different things. The first, was guilt-tripping a weak person to turn themselves in with what the reality really was and the second was genuinely believing that the connection between, in this case, us wasn't strong enough for him to care about whether or not I was thrown under the bus. For most scenarios it was quite clear which one was which, but for what this was, I couldn't tell what she wanted out of it

That's a first-timer, but either or, Jewee's reaction was more twisted around the second choice than the other. He kept up with his story of make-believer for whatever reason it is (I'm not going to flatter myself into believing he cares) as much as he longed for the phone call to end. It was to a level so extreme that he pushed for it. "Yes, Madam, of course, you get it! Well, thank you so much for checking in with us. It's loving of you to speak with your daughter, but I'm on the road now. We'll catch up later, alright? Bye!"

He peeked over to the device in my hand, glaring at the red button that was calling both of our names now. A piece of me didn't want to end it despite having the chance, because I knew darn well I'd have to suffer through another wave of anger, -- his anger this time --but weighing the choices I had, I gave in to what he longed for. He waited until the screen of ticking seconds disappeared, before bursting, just to be sure he wouldn't be overheard.

Smart of him, I must say.

"What the heck was that about Jaiva Shyne? You're not supposed to be here? You might've said that your life wasn't going to be any fun when you got out of the hospital, but that didn't imply that you literally weren't supposed to leave your home, your city, your area -- let alone the state of Colorado?"

I shrugged, trying to appear I wasn't bothered yet. I was, but I didn't want to show it until it was absolutely necessary. In the mean time, I wanted to defend myself. "I did mean to imply it. I don't really have fun making a conversation become depressing and pitiful. I've done it many times, I get that, but not on purpose."

"I don't care. I don't care. I don't care!" He covered his ears like a child doing the 'lalalalala' when they've heard a snippet of what they know for certainty they don't want to hear any more of. When the seriousness came back into his face, and his hands properly gripped the wheel, I thought I could have a second to be grateful that color was coming back into my face from his stupidity, but I don't think I had even that much.

"You have to go home, Princess. If they didn't want you leaving they want you tucked away and kept to yourself, and five minutes tops from your hospital in case you need it. You can't just up and run here like that, Jaiva Shyne, even to make your wishes come true. You have to take care of yourself first. Try recovering completely."

"First, I'm not going to recover completely. That's already pretty much set."

"So what? You have a two percent chance at life, let's say. Then use it to the fullest. Don't give up just become the odds aren't great. The chances aren't zero, and before you say that they are, no. You're wrong. You never received any actual statistic, because doctors don't do such a thing about an illness they don't know, and you're still here, alive and breathing. That's awesome, okay? You still have a shot so don't pretend you--."

"Let me finish," I interrupted him because he interrupted me. That, and because he was getting sentimental, and for some strange reason, he had the ability to make me more increasingly emotional though I wasn't that type. It's a side of myself I haven't totally accepted yet and one I definitely wasn't ready for him to see. That is, unless the droplets say otherwise.

"Second, you can't 'tuck away' a human being. I'm not a set of worn out clothes that you promise yourself you're gonna do something with only to allow them to gather dust in your attic for years and years and years. Third, you heard the woman, didn't you? -- You eavesdropper. My parents are divorcing, and going back to Denver means I'll return to an eviction notice on my apartment, and have to live with my parents who want nothing to do with each other anymore if they're not already separated. I don't want to be in the middle of that. I'll be an additional reminder to why everything fell apart. Fourth, why can't I do both? By now, going home is worse. I'm supposed to semi-quarantine? I'll quarantine here. Going back is more exposure. I'm here to get everything I've wished for on one part, and if something goes wrong, hospitals exist here too, don't they? Or are you Nevadan people immortal and self-healing?"

And then it hit me, before his mouth could open.

I've thought these things since I discovered that they were part of my life, but not one of them did I hear out loud from myself, admitting it. More than that, I didn't hear how my voice shook when it came clean about the maze it was going through, the injustice, and the confusion, but once I did get a whiff of it, every organ in my body stopped for a second, and that single second felt like hours or possibly days. My insides were heavy making me droop down like a dying flower deprived of the sun and of water, until it couldn't take it anymore and shriveled up into nothing -- losing its beauty.

No, I didn't cry often. Not really. Whenever I did, I always put a cap on it and I wouldn't allow it to get out of hand. I never let every bit of my emotions free. I've never put them out there fully, but everything was building up on top of each other and I didn't know how to hold it in anymore. I didn't know how I've been holding it in all this time. With so much mixed together, I was buried six feet under by the rubble of an earthquake and I wasn't breathing.

It's as if I forgot how.

I probably needed to release the tension I've kept bottled due to the horror, the terror, ache, gloom, and mourn that I've had to get through on my own two feet -- but with Jewee's hesitant stare barely ever leaving me unless the road said so, I thought it must've been a terrible time to have to crack. Today was meant to be celebratory. To be happy. To acknowledge achievements.

I'm a published author! My world is out there for the world to see.

But is there ever an exactly perfect moment for our tears? I didn't think so.

Or maybe this was it. Right here, with him, even if it didn't seem like it. Maybe there was a reason it came at this moment.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Regardless, Jewee breathed out a huff of air. "Well," he began the ellipses floating above his head as he thought. "I did say you'd see yourself make it, so okay. You're right. Watch yourself succeed. Stay. Stay with me."