The Memory of Him

Pictures are just memories displayed out of the mind.

Loneliness isn't something I recommend. The endless quiet, the abyss of unspoken thoughts, the list of things to do, but cannot without a partner. The same four walls that make up my bedroom seem to get smaller and smaller every minute. The same posters that I have hung look all too familiar and just plain annoying after seeing them so often. 

 

I roll over on my deep purple sheets so I face my closet. I stare at the sweaters and dresses and nice shirts and fancy pants that hang by the clothes hangers. I long for the idiotic excitement of a new wardrobe, that feeling you get when going to bed and know that in the morning you get to wear a new outfit. 

 

But I don’t want to go out shopping. Not alone. 

 

From where I was lying, I could still make out every single photo on my desk. I lined them up chronologically so they told a story. It was proof of my mild O.C.D.  My eyes travel to my desk, which is completely littered with old and new photos, no room for homework. All the older photos have dust collecting on their glass and frames, but I don’t want to dust them. 

 

The first photo was of me as a baby. Smiling with no teeth in my father’s arms. Then another picture with me in my mother’s. In both photos we were all still in the hospital, since I’d been born maybe four hours before. Looking at those pictures made me smile. I liked thinking about my innocence as a baby, the cute way I’d gnaw of the giant, sausage-like fingers my dad had, or so my family said. There was a picture of me doing just that, but it was buried away in photo albums.   

Next there was a picture of my first day of school. Unlike most kids, I had been fearless the first time I stepped into school for the first time. Instead of a picture of me hugging my dad’s leg, a terrified expression on my face, I was grinning at the camera in front of the large double doors of my elementary school. My parents told me that a lot of other kids let go of their parents when they saw me so excited to go inside. I'm just that inspiring.

The next picture was of me in my fourth grade play. I was the nerd in our little skit, so I had the dorky plaid pants pulled up to my chest and the big, goofy glasses resting in front of my eyes. In this particular shot, I was singing along with the rest of my class about how wonderful our class trip to the zoo was going to be. I had my arms raised above my head as a part of the choreography and was staring hard at the back of the room. My expression was laughably intense for a silly class play.

Next up was grade six “graduation”. My elementary school only went up to grade six, so at the end of the year we had a little ceremony that was summed up to a graduation. I was posing in a shot with three other girls, my best friends at the time, in front of the school. Allison, a blonde with glasses, was on the end. Then there was Riley, who had red hair and freckles. She was always called “Ginger” that year, and I remember her hating the nickname so much that she punched some kid who called her it. Beside her was me, my light brown hair tied back in a high ponytail that looked professionally done. Then beside me was Jordana, the loud, dark-skinned girl with the highest grades in the class. We all had our arms thrown around each other’s shoulders and were smiling like lunatics. But the best part of the picture was Tyler Medley, who was standing behind me. He had given me bunny-ears. 

The next picture was of me and Hayden Rollands standing in front of a giant rollercoaster. It was our seventh grade end-of-the-year class trip. Hayden and I had met when we’d had the same homeroom class that year. For some reason, we just hit it off and became great friends.

All through the year my other friends i.e. Riley and Allison and Jordana were all mean and rude and prissy. I remember eating alone one lunch because I didn’t want to be with them anymore. Halfway through the lunch hour, Hayden sat next to me, just as I had started grumbling to myself about lousy friends. Amazing timing, huh? And so there we were, Hayden and I, posing with our hands in the “peace” sign, our arms outstretched towards the camera. The peace sign was the cool thing to do in grade seven. Back then, Hayden had short, cropped hair that showed off his forehead. I’d always thought he looked kind of silly, but of course never said anything.

Next was eighth grade graduation, the real deal. Hayden had his scrawny arm around my shoulders, grinning excitedly. I was smiling too, my arm also wrapped around his shoulders. We were way too close to the camera, so you could plainly see the terrible job I did of applying makeup. I’d never worn makeup before, but that night felt special, so I’d thrown some on. What a horrid choice. Even Hayden agreed. Hayden still had his hair too short, and that year he had a little acne. It was mostly on his forehead. And since we were so close to the camera, you could definitely see the little red bumps on his face. You could only see a little bit of our outfits, but I remember what I’d been wearing. It was a turquoise-y dress with a few sequins on the front. The dress poofed out a little at the bottom, but not so much that I looked like I was from the 1800s or something. Hayden had been wearing just a plain old tux. What did you expect, a matching turquoise dress?

 

In the next picture, Hayden and I were sitting on the grey couch in my basement. He had one side, I had the other. I had my legs up on the couch, and was facing Hayden as we talked over the TV show we weren’t paying attention to. My feet were resting on his legs, and I remember he had joked that they were awfully smelly. I’d punched him in response. 

This was one of those covertly taken photos. My dad had always been obsessed with taking pictures, and the obsession had blossomed particularly large when it came to me. Almost every day he took a picture of me, whether I was listening to music in my room with the door open, checking my email on the computer, or just sitting around reading. Sometimes I feared he had set up cameras in my room or something since he had so many pictures, and I was a bit freaked to change in my room for a while. My dad also liked to take pictures of me and Hayden. He said every picture he ever took of us was “cute” and “adorable.” I’d gotten quite annoyed by that statement and hadn’t invited Hayden over for about two weeks. Then I got over it.

 

I liked this particular shot because of the way Hayden looked so interested in what I was talking about. I always joked about that with him, but he’d just say my story was more interesting than the stupid reality show on TV. By then, Hayden had finally figured out a hairstyle that worked for him. His blonde hair hung over his forehead and dangled in his eyes just slightly. It was so much better.

 

The next shot was of Hayden and I on a rollercoaster. You know the pictures that are taken at the climax of a rollercoaster and you always look stupid in them, screaming like you’re about to die? Yeah, well that’s what I looked like in that picture. Hayden, on the other hand, had a perfectly bland expression. Almost as if he was bored. This was the same rollercoaster we’d been standing in front of in that seventh grade picture. In grade seven, we’d both been too chicken to actually ride it, but in the ninth grade, we went for it. I was glad we hadn’t done it in seventh grade because I was scared straight, and the picture was proof.

 

A picture of Hayden and I cleaning up the gymnasium after a school dance was next. We both had wanted to get involved in the school a bit more, and we’d made the mistake of choosing “dance committee.” Because the dance committee already had too many members. So instead of planning the dances, we got to clean up afterwards. It was so fun. (I was being sarcastic. It was not fun.) This picture had been taken by a member of the yearbook committee. Hayden and I hadn’t even known our picture was being taken, and it was a little surprising to see it in the yearbook. The caption had been, “Cleaning is a chore. Even with the help of friends.” Looking at the picture, you knew the caption fit. There was so much debris from the dance lying around that you would’ve thought a tornado hit or something.

The next picture was me and Hayden washing my dad’s car. (He paid us, okay?) We were both soaked, our clothes clinging to our bodies. My hair was tied back in a ponytail, but Hayden’s wasn’t. It was hanging down almost to his nose. I’d laughed so hard at this picture the first time I saw it. I mean, he looked like a monster or something. If I’d seen him under my bed looking like that as a little girl, I would’ve cried. 

I remember why we were so sopping wet. Hayden had been mocking me about Kieran Deys, this guy in my science class that was crushing on me. It was an awkward topic for me because I very much disliked Kieran. He was a know-it-all who thought he was like a God or something. So as Hayden began talking about Kieran’s and my future together, I pulled out the hose and sprayed him until he shut up. He was laughing, which had always been contagious, and so I started to laugh along with him. Then he dumped a bucket of soapy water on me. It was war after that.

 

The next picture was our eleventh grade dance, the last one before we would move on to become the graduating class. Neither of us had dates, though not of lack of trying. So we went together as friends. I was wearing a deep pink strapless dress that went to just above my knees. My hair was styled into a bun with a rose bobby pin tucked in. My makeup looked good this time, thank God, and I will even say I looked pretty. Hayden was, again, in a tuxedo.

His arm was around my waist this time, and mine was touching his back. We were crammed together so we could both fit in the photo, and our temples were touching. I remember how fun that night had been, despite our lack of real dates. I remember that was the night I told Hayden I was accepted into Columbia University, the same university he was attending. The joy in the news made the night perfect.

Hayden had been in a car crash a month and three days later. He was killed on impact. I remember the gentle way my parents explained this to me, and the explosive way I reacted. I was so heartbroken that I considered suicide for an afternoon. But I didn’t kill myself. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

 

The final picture on my shelf was just a picture of Hayden, taken when he was maybe seven. It was the picture used on the remembrance booklet his family had made for the guests attending his funeral. He was smiling toothily as he patted a big sleeping dog. Hayden had once told me that he had a dog named Mabel who died when he was eight. Mabel was the dog in the picture.

 

I can still smell all the roses I had received from fellow classmates and friends who knew how close I had been to Hayden. Some had given me stuffed bears, some sweet cards, and others just hugs. I liked the hugs the most because if I really concentrated, I could pretend I was hugging Hayden. I still have all the bears and cards stashed in the back of my closet because I never want to see them again, but I’d feel bad if I threw them out. Now, on the first anniversary of his death, I sit in my room, my loneliness eclipsing me.

 

I roll over again so I am facing the window. Silent tears fall and stain my pillow as I watch tree branches flutter in the wind.

 

“Oh, Hayden,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

 

I close my eyes and pretend that Hayden is sitting on my bed, but when I open my eyes, there is only a memory of him.  

Author's Note

This was written because I was staring at a picture of an old friend earlier, and I just thought that it might be an interesting idea for a story. (P.S. the old friend is not actually dead, but I wanted to make the story more dramatic) I know it's long, but if you can sit through it, i applaud you. :) (and will love you forever)

Please review truthfully!

Reviews

[AK]

Very nice, really well written:)

[A. L. Allen]

Wow, this was so sweet and wonderful. I liked it so much. The emotions are very real, and the relationship between Hayden and the main character are so adorable!

Keep up the amazing work!

[Maddie:]]

this really was interesting! very lovely, how you described each photo it was very captivating. ending was startling, i think it might have been stronger though if you'd went into more detail of how you felt when it happened. other then that, you bring emotion into your writing beautifully! nice story:]

[Susanna F]

This is really excellent, you're great at building the emotion in the story. I admit I teared up at the end, though I had a feeling it was coming. The only suggestions I have are to remove the line "before he was killed," because it tells the end too soon, and I think "was in a car crash" has more impact than "had been in a car crash" - it's more immediate and sudden. But your call, and it's a great story!

[Angelic_Dreamer]

this was really interesting! Good work!

[Barbara Lynne]

well...i'm glad your friend is alive!!! you did a marvelous job on this piece...thank you for sharing

[Night]

I just love your stories soooooooo much. (See the extra Os?)

[Dark Beauty]

Great story write, I liked it alot, wonderfully done-keep it up!!