Six months later

Closing my eyes and counting to ten, I stand by the staircase on the ninth floor, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for what was about to happen. Standing there, I felt myself swaying slightly, although for no specific reason as time passes me by, before I finally gain the courage to go further towards my destination.

I walk down the familiar hall, the doors passing me by, card boxes filling a portion of the said area as my steps bring me closer. The familiar wooden door is open, and there are various sounds coming from the inside of packing, opening, closing… and small curses. I find myself lightly chuckling as I enter the apartment, the nameplate still on despite the vanishing furniture of the rooms.

The walls are bare; the pictures mostly taken down as if not to leave a trace of the people that used to live here before, as sunlight drifts through the windows and the space seems roomier than before. There is not a wagering tail of a happy puppy, as Prince couldn’t move with them; they decided to give him to Tiffany’s grandparents who would take care of him from now on. They didn’t have the heart to send him back to the shelter, although they initially thought to.

 I walk past the half full boxes marked with bold, red letters as I head towards the kitchen, where sure enough Mrs. Hwang stands with a lot of various items in her hands, and half of them in the boxes. She appears to be talking to herself for a while, not noticing my presence, until her eyes finally go to my direction.

“Oh, Jessica; are you here already?” I hear her exclaim as she places the objects in her hands down and heads towards me. “You’re earlier than expected, I’m sorry, should I prepare some tea or coffee?” she asks in a hurry, heading back towards the kitchen and I find myself slightly chuckling before shaking my head to politely decline the offer. “It’s fine, I don’t really want anything,” I say honestly, and she gives me a look, before softly smiling.

“I suppose you want to get to it right away?” she asks, eyes knowing and I hesitate, but in the end nod.  It was the only thing I could think of this whole week, really, although it has been half a year since the day it all ended.

After the funeral, I felt the days go in a blur of darkness and tears. I rarely got up unless I had to, and for a while my life was a complete mess of sleep and nightmares for a while; never reassurance or laughter.  Honestly, that was the day my whole world went upside down until I didn’t know what it was myself anymore. I stared at the empty walls of my room that felt too large, too bare although nothing had changed. Everything was the same, yet it wasn’t at the same time despite the fact that I wanted to think differently. It took a week before I even looked out the window to see the world still there.

It’s odd, isn’t it? People pass away every day and the world goes on like nothing happened; you never realize that one person has left this world and there will be one more. We don’t notice, maybe we don’t even care, until it’s a person we love, and then we think everyone should stop and just know… that the world should stop.

I started going out more, little by little after a graduation that went well, yet would have been better if the student beside me was there, instead for a bouquet of flowers. There were people who expressed their sympathy, and apologized even for the way they behaved, and although I didn’t feel as if this was about me I still forgave them. No matter what, it wouldn’t bring Tiffany back, and it was something that was too hard to grasp.

I visited her by the graveyard at least once a week, and it was easier to miss her there, in a place where she's never been anything but dead. The tough part was to not miss her when I passed by the places we used to go, where the memories would haunt me for a long time. 

“Time passes by quickly, doesn’t it?” she asks as her eyes scan me, successfully awakening me from my thoughts as I turn to fully look at her. I simply nod as a reply, a little caught off guard, but she doesn’t ask anymore, and I feel happy for that as we stand in the gradually emptier apartment.

After a while of chatting, she guides me towards a room that is too familiar, placing her hand on the door knob before turning to me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks after a while, but I simply smile. “Don’t worry; I want to,” I say after a while, and as her eyes soften a bit in understanding, she opens the door to a sunlit room which hadn’t been touched for the longest time. “Thank you, Jessica… She would’ve appreciated it,” she says after a while, and I smile softly before she leaves me alone with some boxes that were there to be filled up. It’s the same medium sized room with the bed beside a huge window, the frames painted in white, along with the walls. The same posters on the wall are still up, the books in her bookshelf and the papers on her desk messy as if she’d just been here and were to come back.

I sighed deeply by that.

 “It’s been a while,” I found myself whispering more to myself, as I hear the fading footsteps of her mother down towards the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I move towards the unmade bed as a million thoughts run around my head. “I hope you don’t mind me cleaning your room, right?” I ask although I know I won’t get a reply, as I start stripping the bed bare.

The room isn’t large at all, so it really takes less than an hour to pack up everything in the designated boxes, stowed away for her parents to take with them. After time they decided to move back to the states, back to the life before and although they didn’t say it, I had a feeling it was because of the fact that they couldn’t bear living here after the loss of their only daughter.

Looking around the semi-empty room I let out a sigh. The heavier furniture, like the bed, desk and bookshelf her father would take care of, but other than that the room was left impersonalized; the posters were folded away, along with the books and the items she owned in their own boxes to stay. Every part that made this room into Tiffany’s room was now gone, and it was now just a room like every other, which was going to be occupied by a different family with a different story.

I only had the drawers of the desk left, as I had already sorted the mess of papers on the surface. I was close to forgetting it, but realized it just in the last minute as I grabbed the last, small box to get started.

As I open the white drawers, I notice something odd in my hands as I grab the first and only object in there. It’s a white box, a bit worn out after time and more grayish than usual I assume, but still in good shape. Curiously I take it with my two hands, shaking it slightly, hearing that there is not one thing but multiple items inside.

When I lift the lid off, out of pure curiosity, I notice a pink Polaroid camera, along with a bunch of pictures wrapped up in a white bond. I instantly recognize the pictures right away, of the sky, the football field, the Christmas spent and all the other memories of us. Even the letter I once placed in her locker, the one I almost forgot about, was there as well, the time when I ended up writing my feelings towards her despite when I thought she didn't want to be with me anymore. The dates seemed so fresh, although it was a while ago since these events happened. It’s odd to think of, really.

There’s also a book inside; it’s a bit small, as I take it out and it’s oddly familiar. It’s in pink, no surprise, and it takes me a second just to remember the fact that it was the notebook I gave her when I showed her around school, the one with the post-it notes. Smiling softly by the memory I find myself opening up the pages, although I knew there wouldn’t be much in them except for the colorful post it notes that were once upon the doors in high school. The multiple colors flash throughout my eyes, along with some school writing inside that she must have used the book to, along with memorizing the school area.

After the pages with the notes end, I notice there is some writing on the empty pages in the far back, and curiously I read it, the breeze through the open window fluttering my hair as I brush it away. I found myself smiling softly as I looked down at the list of things she wanted to do; something that oddly enough never came up again between us.

“Number six,” Tiffany says softly while cocking her head a little to the side. “Move back to where my parents are from.” I remember her telling me the first day I visited her which was barely a year ago yet felt like forever since.

“Number six?”

Her faint smile widens a little, albeit not as much as I hoped, but her eyes do seem to change a little. “Yes; it’s a part of the top ten things I want to do in my life. Lame, I know, but it’s nice to have some goals.”

As I read down the list of things I notice that some of them such as run a marathon, volunteer for an organization, sing in front of a crowd, see snow and live in Seoul are ticked off. It’s a few yet not as many as it should’ve been, and as I sit there I realize that she didn’t get to complete many of these things, although they weren’t even that difficult to do. Some of the goals she never got to complete were to graduate high school, learn three different languages, a spontaneous travel to a foreign country, go bungee jumping and visit a light house. And as I read these I almost felt heavy and pressured, the thought of these boxes left unchecked, something that probably would’ve made her happier, if she could complete these goals.

After a moment while getting over the fact, I notice that there are in fact not ten but rather eleven boxes, something that I find odd since in the last one tells me to flip the page. Furrowing my eyebrows, I do as told, and I meet a page filled with words that seem different than what I thought it would be.

 “I don’t really know what to say to you as of now; when will you find this box and this book and read it? Will it be tomorrow, a month later, a year… a decade? I’ve been thinking of it for a while now, but I have a feeling that when you do find this I won’t be here anymore.” It starts off, the writing of Tiffany always recognizable for my eyes, the image of a smiling girl invading my mind as I sit there, the sun shining down the pages.

“I can admit that I’ve been thinking a lot recently; about everything actually. All from if I’ll be able to graduate, if I’ll go back to the states again and many problems that keep on appearing. But, no matter how much I thought of it, I still found myself thinking of you. I don’t know the name, or what you call the spaces between seconds, but you always appeared in my mind during that timeframe, even if my mind was initially somewhere else.

To describe everything that has happened between us with words is a tough task; how will I be able to fill the memories of us two in such short pages? These pictures might fade, these pages might turn yellow and fall apart, and the things that used to remind you of me might disappear one day… It’s scary to think of, really, but I remember that I told you that nothing is forever, and sadly our time isn’t.”

The writing comes of a bit shaky there; the ink a bit sprawled out in some parts, indicating falling tears that may have escaped her eyes as she wrote this to herself. Whenever she did this, I don’t know, but it could not have been too long ago before the day she passed away, so much I knew.

My mind started replaying the memories, the small moments we spent together on that football field, and the Christmas spent together all the way to that New Year and the last memories of us before she fell into an eternal slumber.

“But if there’s an afterlife, then maybe I’ll see you there, and we’ll meet again someday. I’ll wait for that day, but only after you have lived a long and happy life, do you understand? Get married, get a job and get kids if that makes you happy; dare to open up and feel something again. Even if it’s not me, I know you’ll find someone out there for you, and I’ll be sure that if he or she treats you bad I’ll make their life a living hell. You’ve always got me.

My last point of this list, if you ever wondered, was to be happy, and I’ve never been happier than being with you.”

These words from Tiffany end here, and there is nothing more. The letter of goodbye, the ending of our story was right here, blue ink on white paper, and I found myself letting out a couple of tears. Not because I was sad, or grieving the loss of someone so close to me, but rather for the fact that I was able to spend so much time with her. I’m actually happy, for realizing in that moment that despite the devastating outcome we still loved, despite our age, and that no matter what we were still together. Although our journey ended a long time ago, I had a feeling that it even then there wasn’t really any goodbyes or regrets, only the fact that we might not see each other for a while.

After a moment of sitting there, I take a deep breath, knowing that when I tuck away this box, this would be the last thing I would ever hear from Tiffany, no matter what, and it feels weird, too weird as I sit there with the box in my lap. Closing the book gently, I’m about to put it back, until a white item lands on the floor, with a silver plate on it. My eyes instantly remember the bracelet from that day so long ago, the one matching the bracelet on my wrist, the one which she gave me during that year’s first snow.

And carefully I pick it up, the leather worn out a bit and cold in my hands, as I read out the front. “These are the days of our lives”, something not all too different from the one I’m wearing right now, stating “These are the days of our freedom”.  Flipping it to see the back of the bracelet, a small smile creeps upon my face as I read the last words on the bracelet, the ones Tiffany didn’t want me to see at first, but I was bound to find despite.

“And they’ll last forever.”

I smile slightly, looking at the silver plate of the white bracelet, knowing that no matter what we said, the memories will still be there. And no matter what we said about forever, that it wasn’t real, that nothing would last, there was probably this small hope inside of us, this small thought that maybe despite the fact that we’ll all disappear one day, the memories and events will not. They’ll stay there, engraved somewhere in the back of our mind, only for us to know.

I smile as my fingers trace the engraving of the saying, and I think to myself that maybe, just maybe, there is something called forever.