My heart still hurts sometimes, but for the first time in a while, it doesn't ache with loneliness. My life had been black and white for so long, empty of life and laughter that I identified with; and now, suddenly people here walk beside me; both mentally and literally. Tessa doesn't hold my hand anymore, but her easy-going smiles make up for that. Sophie explained to me earlier that it was less about discomfort and more worrying that it would lead me on. I'm grateful, and while we walk, I gently push my shoulder into hers, which throws her off balance. She laughs and shoves me back, her now bright orange hair swinging.
Isabel and Elizabeth join our lunch table while we sit down, followed quickly by Livi. They melt into our conversation easily, and they are careful to avoid the dance topic; these girls are a rare kind of good. Livi immediately goes into old stories from before I joined this friend group, and it's Elizabeth who fills me in. I find myself laughing at all the same parts, which—for some reason—pleases me.
I find it strange that I lived my life in a blur, I sat alone most days and ignored and laughed at the right times in a fake laugh that was too loud. Now I'm realizing how much I've been missing. These girls gave me a life worth wanting.
"You look sad, Marcy." Livi, who I didn't even know that well, remarks. I know she's right and try to play it off, waving my hand dismissively, but Tessa leans forward on the plastic table and lets her eyes rest on my face, before flicking back to Livi's thoughtful, calculating gaze. Livi's eyes are the colour of wood of a tree you'd find deep in a forest, and they're really pretty.
"I know you were 'together' with Francesca." she continues in a low voice. I clear my throat and I suddenly find my sandwich extremely interesting. Livi charges on anyways. "And I know that Tessa reminded you of that." Tessa swallows this time and looks down at her hands. Livi either doesn't notice or doesn't care about her discomfort. "I also noticed that you barely talk about Francesca, which isn't healthy because I know you aren't over her yet." I'm about to interrupt when Livi holds up a hand to silence me.
"I lost my cousin when I was eleven, and she was five years older than me but we were incredibly close. I ignored the pain for a very long time, but finally I visited her grave and I felt a lot better afterwards." Livi's eyebrows are raised into her hairline, her eyes soft and tentative, like she's scared of freaking me out. She's pretty straightforward, I have to say.
"It hurt for a long time, it really did. Sometimes hurt is needed in an unforgiving world, sometimes it's better to feel." Livi finishes and nods her head. I'm staring at her open-mouthed when Elizabeth pipes up.
"I'm sorry to say that we have nothing we can do for you besides hold you and tell you everything will be okay," Elizabeth says, leaning in. "But I am not sorry to say that we all think you're the bee's knees, Marcy." I laugh at that compliment, and Elizabeth beams. "You need to know that; and you need to know that you need to go and you need to find Francesca and let her burn into your mind. Forgetting Francesca will only ever push aside the grief for later, anyways."
This spiel of realizations and advice fill my head with different emotions, and suddenly all the noises in the cafeteria are bottlenecking into my head. They were right. I knew they were, like my therapist, like my mom and my dad and everyone. These girls saw through me when I couldn't even see myself.
I wasn't over Francesca, and I wouldn't be for a long time. But I needed to know that I would be okay. Just for a moment. Heck, even five minutes.
~~~~
Francesca's grave is surrounded by sunflowers, upon her mother's request. I don't remember exactly where it is, but sometimes you just have to follow where your heart leads
And then there it is...there she is. It's been over a year now, and grass has grown over the mound of ground that separated us. Her tombstone, along with her name, is carved with tiny swirls, and her mom's favourite thing she ever said.
I read softly, kneeling on the ground and running my fingers softly over the writing.
Francesca Rose Kingsley.
2000 - 2016
Beloved daughter, friend and person.
"Stay in my solar system, come be a planet with me."
"I'm tempted to take you up on that deal." I say softly. I feel tears prick my eyes, and the control I'd fought so hard to keep this past year slips away like water through my fingers. My chest seems to break open, and the floodgates of emotions pours through.
I'm sorry I tried to forget you. I thought that if I did, you'd lay at rest because there wouldn't be anyone to hold onto the past, and...
I tried to say those things. I tried to apologize for disregarding her memory because I was selfish and stupid. But I can't. And I know I can't say it for a long time; somehow, I feel like she would be okay with waiting.
I have her christmas card to me in my pocket, and I sit down by her gravestone and lean on it, taking it out.
"Hey Francey," I say instead, and I let my fingers draw invisible circles on the paint and my name. "Before I read this, I just wanted to say hello. I miss you, sometimes it's a feeling I can barely fathom, something so strong I forget I'm feeling it. I'm not lonely anymore though, I have friends and I finally reached out to my mom. I'm okay. I wanted you to know that. I'm living through you, I'm living for you and trying to do the things that you would have wanted me to do, like making new friends and going to prom. Prom didn't end well, but I got a dress and I had people to go with. Turns out I'm not a depressed piece of shit all of the time." I laugh halfheartedly.
I take a deep breath, allowing the wind to brush my hair from my face, and for a moment, I let myself think it was her. "I miss you every day, but life goes on. I miss you, but I'm letting myself finally understand that forgetting what we were and who I am was the last thing you wanted. Your life passed you by the last couple years, and the last thing you wanted was for me to do the same."
I finally opened the card, breathing in the stale smell of Francesca's hairspray, cardboard and acrylic paint.
Dear Marcy,
I know you won't get this until after christmas (which is a stupid, messed up system of card-giving), but merry christmas bitch! I already miss you, hopefully we hang out on New Year's and watch Doctor Who reruns until we feel like whole teenagers again. We get to see 2017, Marcy!!! Out of this hellhole and into the next one right?
I'm surprised Ms. doesn't check these. Maybe she does, and she lets the swears and the probable possibility of dicks being doodled in the margins pass by because she's reminiscing. It's probably that, knowing her. Anyways, see you soon.
A L S O. Don't forget to call me on Christmas.
With loads of love from me to you, Francesca.
"Sorry I didn't call you." I whisper to the wind, although I'm smiling. I take out my own christmas card, and with a rock we painted together, I leave the card pinned under it below her gravestone. This feels like a proper goodbye, and I like it.
"See you on the other side, nerd."
YOU ARE READING
Forgetting Francesca
Teen FictionMarcy Hampton, a queer high school student, finds grief to be a strange, foreign thing. Her best friend, Francesca Kingsley, however, is very familiar with the concept of grief. Both girls were always warned there would be problems in high school, b...
