Reminisce #Repost

Chapter 2

Eden

"Are you sure it was her?" Mom's voice echoes through the room.

I flip my phone over so the speaker is faced down on my comforter of the king-sized bed. A bed in need of two people instead of one. Mom's voice will come out slightly muffled, but words bouncing off the walls is a cruel reminder that it's just me here.

"Cause I'm worried," she goes on. "I feel..."

"I'm starting to lose it."

"Oh, honey, don't get me wrong. She was a lovely girl; but you have to remember that she always carried that burden of hers," she says. "Honestly, that should have been clue enough to know it wouldn't last."

"She ran so fast, Mom. The Cassandra I knew never ran."

A particular memory comes to mind: Two curly pigtails bounce about eight year old Cassandra's neck. She snorts as she clutches a red book to her chest. She stands a few feet away from me, at the mouth of an old slide that's been pushed to the corner of the playground. I'm seated at the top of the slide. Some other kid is right under, pretending to be a spy. One minute, my diary had been in my hands. The next, she'd snatched it out, already a good distance from my reach.

"If you want the book, you'll have to catch me!" she squeals.

"I know you, Cassandra. You'll tire out in ten seconds flat. Just give it back." I try to appear nonchalant and keep my voice calm. Inside, though, I'm a mess. Give it back! Don't read my secrets!

"That's not true." She huffs. "I can outrun you anyday, anytime."

"Yeah, right," I scoff. Please, just give it back. "I'll even give you a head start."

She narrows her eyes at me. "You're on."

She didn't run; she skipped across the playground with my diary in a death grip. Slowly too. I tackled her and she giggled until my diary slipped, her eyes slits from laughter.

"Eden? Eden!" Mom's voice startles me back to reality. "You were doing it again, weren't you? I'm going online to look for the best therapist in Malibu."

"Don't be dramatic, Mom. I just dozed off." I yawn.

"You're tired. I'll call you later, then. But please, you have to remember Grace and how this—"

I end the call. She would have gone on and on if I didn't. I yawn again and close my droopy eyes, but something about just lying here until sleep comes seems pathetic. 

I could be out looking for her. I open my eyes and hopelessly look around. My office desk catches my eye, and I spring off my bed just as fast as the idea that pops up. With a ring of keys from my khaki shorts, I open one of the locked drawers of the desk and remove my laptop.

It's hard to understand how exactly she became a ghost. She used to be the queen of social networking with a thousand followers and hundreds of posts. Everyone loved and envied her. Initially, I expected a hiatus. She said her favorite celebrities did that when the heat got too much.

I search for her on Facebook but come up with no results. I do the same on other networks, typing in possible usernames. Nothing comes up, and I curse under my breath. 

I remember my face always so close to a glowing screen, hours spent on near endless chats with her. She was a story-teller, and I was her adoring audience. Those were the later days of course. We were thousands of miles apart.

A white envelope peeps from under the desk. It must have fallen out when I took out the device. I pick it up, and the words of a heartbroken man with a shaky voice comes back to me: give her this. If you ever find her, please... give her this.

My fingers run over the edges of the envelope that's as slim and uncreased as the day I first received it from a trembling hand. I carry it everywhere because my motto has been: You never know. 

I chuckle, just like at the beach. A little at first, then a lot. Three days ago, I was determined to make Malibu the place where I finally could let it all go. New motto: When you least expect it, you get it. 

I keep staring at my laptop screen, as my teeth gnaws at my lower lip, and move my finger aimlessly on the mouse pad. The cursor tags the Google Maps icon, and I pause. My heart thumps as I give in and click, then pull out a map of Malibu City.

On the wall, to my right, is a ceiling to floor length window, the curtains drawn apart. If I look out of it, I can see twinkling lights from the Colony, buildings all around me that pour out to the very edge of the coastline and signify the city is still wide awake. Why not? It's only two hours away from a new day.

My body is in no mood for this, but my mind is bonkers. How can you sleep when she's so close? Not peacefully, I'll make sure of that. At least go out there and drown me out!

 The map continues to glow on the screen, and it reminds me of a game Cassandra and I used to play. We called it, 'reverse treasure hunt.' We took turns hidding items and drawing out maps which never had typical x marks the spot to narrow out where the hidden stuff would be. It was harder to find the 'treasure' but fun to play. 

When the game was over, we'd each have so many x's on our maps and a single circle around where the treasure had actually been buried.

Up until now, I might as well as had a whole atlas to work with. I tap my fingers frantically on the desk as I try to make sense of my racing thoughts. Is that the game she's been playing for six years now?