The Reason She Fell

Chapter 5: Sandwich

Along the train ride home, I stared at the sandwich bag that innocently lie on my lap. A few people gave me weird looks. I don't blame them. I did look rather peculiar for staring intently at a worn out sandwich bag. There was something inside it but I wasn't ready to open it. I haven't even read what Heather wrote on the outside. I turned the sandwich bag over so I couldn't see her awful handwriting. 

I diverted my attention to the darkness of the tunnel. I could see my reflection through the window. I couldn't help but to question myself; how could I missed something about Heather? Why did she kept something away from me? Why did she left a riddle?

More importantly, had she been like this for a while? How long?

"Boy," an old man's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Ya drop ya sandwich," he added rather bitterly.

"Thank you," I muttered and picked up the sandwich bag.

I rested my hand on the bag so it wouldn't fall off. I stared at it again. A sigh escaped my lips. Why did I have the notion that I was responsible for her death?

Once I arrived home, I made my way to my house through the familiar path that I used to never walk alone on. The emptiness on my right was evident and I couldn't help but to reach my hand to my right out of habit - hoping to feel the warmth of her arm. I need to get rid of this stupid habit. It will do me no good as of now. I tucked my hand into the pocket of my coat while the other was holding the sandwich bag preciously. 

I went up to my room and shut the door behind me.

"Alright. Let's see what she wrote here," I mumbled to myself and turned the sandwich bag over.

My hands were shaking slightly.

'If this bag is in the hands of Adam Perry, open the bag. Have fun.'

I opened the sandwich bag by slightly ripping the top part of the bag that was sealed with plastic tape. I reached my hand into the sandwich bag. I jumped slightly when I felt something cold against my finger tips. I pulled my hand out and decided to pour the contents onto my desk. A metal bracelet fell effortlessly onto my desk with a soft thud followed by a folded paper and a fun sized Picnic chocolate bar. Picnic was my favourite chocolate brand.

I pressed my lips together.

I picked up the paper and unfolded it. My eyes were met with her awful handwriting once again.

'Adam,

This is how you make a sandwich. Take two slice of bread. Then, spread some mayonaise on either one. Next, put tomato, a slice of ham or chicken and lettuce. A simple sandwich, don't you think?

Heather'

I reread the note over and over. What the heck was this?! I ran my fingers along my hair. I was confused. What?!

I got nervous for nothing. I was furious. She left me this stupid note. She was being her as usual - teasing me whenever she got the chance. Only this time, she was not here to ease my anger. She was gone forever and left me this ridiculous recipe for a stupid sandwich. I let out a deep sigh and put the note down.

The metal bracelet was hers. I had seen her wearing it most of the time. She loved this bracelet. It didn't have any charms or stones on it. I was just a simple metal chain. I remembered the time when I offered to buy a small keychain or figurine to hook onto the metal chain. She refused and claimed she liked the simplicity.

Recalling about that bracelet, it did made me feel slightly better. She knew me very well. I picked up the Picnic chocolate bar and began munching on it. I usually eat the chocolate and nuts coating on the outside before I proceed onto the caramel coated layers of wafer.

***

Sandwich?

What was she thinking while writing this note to me?

"May I speak to Dylan Rhodes?" I said to the receiver.

"Who am I speaking to?"

"I'm Adam Perry - his cousin. I came by yesterday," I said.

"Alright. Please hold,"

I held the receiver tightly. I seriously hate Dylan. I don't even know why.

"Yo," Dylan's voice sounded.

"When did she wrote the note?" I asked immediately.

"The note? You opened it already?"

"Obviously. Do you know what she meant in the note?"

"No. I've never seen the note. She just gave me the sandwich bag and told me to keep it. That was it. What did the note say?"

"Alright. Thanks anyway," I sighed.

"Wait-!"

I hung up the call. Obviously, Dylan was just a postman. He knew nothing so he won't be much help to me; which was a relief. However, it also meant I was back to square one - no leads and nothing to look for. I was only left with this sandwich recipe. Stupid sandwich recipe. I could not get angry at Heather because she was not here.

I threw myself on my bed and covered my face with my pillow that had smell. I should clean my room.

I was restless as night slowly falls. I tidied my room; at least half of it. I took my dirty clothes to the laundry room to get washed, then, I arranged my books and terrifyingly tall stack of papers from school. Still, nothing felt right. I needed to do something. I knew something was missing. My eyes laid on my guitar in the corner of my room.

I picked it up and began playing it. I felt at ease. Everything became clear - including the sense of Heather's absence from my life forever. She wasn't here. I told myself so many times and I finally believe it. And I regretting leading myself to hope she would come back. She's gone. Gone. Dead. No more.

"Stop crying," I whispered to myself as I continue to strum the strings.