Tears For Tahlia

Her smile, the sun, and the flowers. I couldn’t stop thinking about how flawless she looked. The girl with short black hair and shining sea green eyes, mischievous intentions swirling behind them. She was so familiar, yet, so foreign. I knew her well, each expression, movement, all seen before. But now, it was like I was seeing a whole different person. Before, I hadn’t noticed how her hair framed her face so perfectly, or how she carried herself with such confidence. How can you know someone so well, but not at all?

Tahlia and I had been friends forever. Our parents were best friends, so it was only natural that we follow in their footsteps. But, the Tahlia I knew had wild hair stuffed into pigtails and a head too big for her body. When had she grown up?

The sun cast its warmth across the field of flowers. A soft breeze blew through Tahlia's hair. The picture I'd gotten that day had been unreal. Perfect actually. Because of that photo, I had won a national photography contest and the first place prize, $20,000, now sat in my bank account waiting to be spent, all thanks to Tahlia.

I sat with her in the old treehouse in my backyard, arguing about what to do with the money. “I think you should buy me that new phone I’ve been wanting, then get a little something for yourself, and maybe save the rest.” Tahlia spouted out ideas faster then I could even comprehend what she was saying. “I can’t even understand you anymore,” I said laughing. I reached over and pulled open the chest in the corner of the treehouse. I lifted the little black book out of the chest, then closed it. Opening the book to a blank page, I started writing. “Okay, let's write down our ideas on how to spend the money.” I jotted down the few things I remembered that Tahlia had said. “None of these feel right,” I glanced at the page after I had finished writing. “I want to help someone with this money.”

“Yeah, well you can help me buy that new phone!” Tahlia always had some sarcastic retort. “Hey, I’ve gotta run, but I'll call you after my appointment, okay?” Tahlia made her way to the ladder and climbed out of the treehouse. “Okay, talk later, stupid,” I called to her as she dashed from my yard. Some people may think our name calling is rude, but, it’s how we tell each other we care.

Tahlia hadn't texted me and it was already past 10pm. It wasn’t like her to leave me hanging. Just as I was about to give up and go to bed, I got her text. ‘Meet me at the treehouse.’ She hadn’t ever asked to meet there this late before, but I slipped on my shoes and climbed out my window into the yard. Once I got into the treehouse, I could tell something was off. Everything was dark. The moon cast strange shadows across the floor. I could barely make out Tahlia sitting in the corner, with our little black book in front of her. “Tahlia?” I whispered to her, “What's wrong?” I bent down to sit beside her. From my new position, I could see her tear stained face. She pushed the book toward me. I knew at that moment something had gone horribly wrong. Whenever we were too afraid or too embarrassed to say something out loud, we wrote it in the book. That way, the other person could just read it. Five words now sat on the page. My breath caught in my throat as I read them. I dropped the book and Tahlia grabbed my hand and looked at me. A fresh set of tears pooled in her eyes. I knew she didn’t want to say anything, so we just sat there, crying. The image of the words cemented in my mind,

‘I have stage four cancer.’

Over the next few weeks we learned just how serious Tahlia’s cancer was. It had spread throughout most of her body. Doctors determined there wasn’t anything that could be done. Tahlia was going to die. Time passed in a strange haze, it didn’t feel real. I watched Tahlia become a ghost of her former self. I spent every moment I could with her. One night in particular I remember, we were back again in the treehouse, rain pouring down from the dark sky. We sat, looking through the black book, laughing at old things we’d written. We soon realized that only two blank pages were left. “Well we have to fill them!” I said with a smile. We sat for a moment trying to think of what to write. “I have something,” Tahlia took the book from my hand and started writing. ‘I’m scared to die,’ her words glared at me. She started writing again. ‘I don’t want to go.’ I took the book out of her hands and started writing my response. ‘Don’t be afraid, I’ll be right beside you. I promise.’ Two weeks later, Tahlia died at 3:43am, August 2nd.

I didn’t get to say goodbye. I wasn’t beside her. I had broken my promise to her. In a fit of uncontrolled anger, I destroyed everything in my sight. My once clean room now looked like the aftermath of a category 5 hurricane. I didn't have the strength left to clean it all up. Instead, I sank to the ground. Waterfalls poured down my face. My thoughts turned to our time together, her spicy sarcasm, a million memories, the laughter, the quiet times in the treehouse, writing messages in the book... The book... Maybe, just maybe.

I ran to the treehouse, flung open the chest and frantically pulled at the little black book. I flipped to the last page, no longer blank. There, slanted on the page, was Tahlia’s handwriting. The words begged to be read, but I hesitated. If I read these last words from her, then maybe she would be gone forever. Despite my fears, I started reading.

Brody,

This book holds everything we were afraid to say, but I think it also holds our greatest memories. Each question, word, and phrase, infused with context and emotion. Even though I may be gone, the things we felt and experienced are not. They still exist in this little black book, keeping us together even after we part. When you need a reminder of how it all used to be, come back to these words; come back to me. I know that this world isn’t ready to see your greatness, but they will be one day. I’ll be watching over you every step of the way. Take these unfortunate circumstances and turn them into something beautiful, for me.

Love you, stupid,

Tahlia.

My vision blurred as I wiped away the tears, soaking my sleeve. Our goodbye was not traditional, but in true Tahlia style, it was everything I needed. Reading her words didn’t banish her -- quite the opposite. This book held a permanent piece of Tahlia that could be preserved. I ached to hold her hand again, to feel her close to me, but, in a strange way, I did feel like she was still with me, living on in the words we wrote in our little black book. A moment of clarity overcame me. I knew what I wanted to do with the money. I worked my way out of the treehouse and down the ladder, the book clutched in my hand. Making my way inside my house, I felt a strange sense of peace. ‘This is right, she’d be proud of me’ I thought.

I donated the $20,000 prize money to cancer research in Tahlia's name. I never felt alone after Tahlia passed, I knew she was cheering me on wherever she was. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was her smile, the sun, and the flowers.