Number Three: Kelly Branwood

There is a sort of stuffiness in a quiet room.  White noise can pack itself as high as the ceiling that it traps whoever chooses to stay.  Laura Lopez, throughout her ten years of life, had become accustomed to this infinite loneliness (or at least it felt infinite).  She spent nearly every day alone in her room that she mistook the suffocation of silence for the warmth of peace.  Her disillusion was induced by three solutions.

Number One: music.  Laura believed the stems of notes can pierce through the pressure of stillness.  Number Two: going outside.  The kitchen, the living room, and sometimes even school seemed to do the trick of filling this void with voices of parents, teachers, and classmates.  Laura utilized these two solutions for as long as she can remember, but only as of age nine did she meet the most effective - Number Three: Kelly.

Kelly Branwood - a nineteen-year-old film major at UCLA who loved fashion, boys, and Harry Potter.  Her family had just recently moved closer to school so that Kelly could come home from her dorm more often (“They say it’s so I could help out with taking care of my mom, but I think they just need my company,” Kelly whispered to Laura once with a giggle).  The two girls met via their bedroom windows.  While Kelly was moving boxes, she cracked open her rusty pane to discover Laura crying on her floor.

“Hey girly, what happened?”, and almost immediately Laura halted her tears to shuffle towards the calming voice.

Through sniffles and hiccups, she managed to choke out, “I- I got ma- made fun of at sch- school”.  

And thus began the relationship between misfit 5th grader and matured sorority member.  

Their encounters only existed every few weeks, but each lasted so long that it made up for the expended time.  Every word, every laugh, every use of body language lived in Laura’s Ravenclaw-themed diary she bought a week after they met.  Their talks were her cure from the sickness of the outside world.  Anything Kelly was, Laura wanted to be.  She figured that if Kelly could get a boyfriend and an abundance of best friends, Kelly would be her muse.  From acid-wash jean jackets to practicing how to flirt, Kelly once said she felt like a proud older sister watching her blossom into a stronger girl.

“I made a friend today”, Laura attempted to say nonchalantly one Monday; it was the second greatest piece of news she shared with Kelly through their windows (the first was when she learned how to braid her own hair).

“That’s AWESOME Laura!  What’s her name?”

“His name is Asher.  Asher Reynolds”, a slick tone accompanied his name.

“Well o-kay, Laura.  How did you two become friends?”

“Actually, we’re just partners for a group project, but he’s coming over tomorrow to work on it!  He only lives down the street”, and it seemed as if Laura was presenting a “Student of the Month” certificate to her parents.  Instead, she was presenting a “Someone My Age Is Willing to Talk to Me” trophy to her neighbor.  Over an hour was spent describing the infamous Asher and his relation to the irrelevant school project.  Windows were closed after Kelly gave her monthly farewell to resume dorm life and, per usual, every quote was documented in Laura’s diary.

Tuesday brought sunshine, chirping birds, and the biggest smile on the 10-year-old’s face when the school bell rang for dismissal.  Laura Lopez walked home with Asher Reynolds, and she already memorized the 20 words exchanged along the way - into the diary it would go.

“This is a neat room”, Asher was most likely told to say that as part of etiquette training from his parents.

“Oh thanks.  I try to decorate as much as I can”.  There was stuttering in her rhetoric, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You only have one sibling?”, his hazel eyes swirled through the collage of family pictures mounted above her desk.

“Yeah, that’s my sister Gina.  She moved out last year for college”.  Gina’s hair was much bigger than Laura’s, and therefore stood out in every photo.  It’s no wonder she had so many friends; it was nearly impossible to miss her.

“Must be nice,” Asher chuckled with a hint of complaint.  “Living with just your parents.  My five siblings are so freaking annoying”.  He laughed more, but Laura kept staring at Gina’s hair.

“Not really, all my parents ever do is fight.  I wish I had more siblings to keep company”, she said, finally breaking eye contact with the 4x6 print.

Asher wiped away his smile.  “I’m sorry.  At least you get to see Gina every now and then, right?”

Back to the picture at the beach.  “She rarely comes home, and doesn’t really call.  College seems really fun, and home really isn’t, so I understand”.  The tension was being layered on by the second, and Asher was forced to pick something else up.  

“Ravenclaw?”, the purple swirls from Laura’s diary shimmered in the light.

“Yeah, I know I’m too young to have taken the Pottermore quiz, but it’s almost my 11th birthday.  How about you?”

“Hufflepuff.  Love the personality, but hate the name.”

Laura finally broke into a smile again.  “Kelly’s a Hufflepuff too.  She loves the name, though”.  And immediately she regretted saying anything.

“Who’s Kelly?  Does she go to our school?”

“Uh- no.  She’s my neighbor”, the stuttering returned.

“I didn’t know there was a Kelly on this street.  How long-”

“Nevermind.  It’s- it’s stupid.”  She turned bright red.

Asher relaxed his shoulders.  “Are you okay?”

“It’s stupid”.  All she wanted to do was rip the diary from his hands.

He looks down at the diary and back up to Laura’s face.  “Is she, like, an imaginary friend?”.

She seemed to answer by just silence.

“It’s hard not having siblings to talk to.  Or friends either”, she gently set the diary down and went into her backpack.  “Let’s start the project, yeah?”, and she smiled her fakest smile.

Needless to say,  Asher didn’t plan on returning to Laura’s house anytime soon.  Not that he thought she was weird or awkward, but because he felt weird and awkward, that he made the lonely girl feel even more lonely.

Days went on before Laura even wanted to think about Kelly Branwood.  Parents fought in the morning; no friends were made during school; parents fought at night.  She stopped going to her window for therapy.  One day she opened the window again; it was supposed to just be for air.

“This past week was pretty sucky.  Mom and dad’s fights have been mostly about the water bill, which I guess is good since they’ve moved on from the month-long debate about the electricity bill.  I think they’re getting me a phone, so I could finally get your number and text you about these things.  Asher’s still nice, too.  He waved to me on Tuesday and Wednesday morning, but it was just a wave.  Oh, and I also started listening to your favorite albums again.  Pet Sounds and End of the Century always remind me of you.”

Her words didn’t go into the diary this time.  They only stuck themselves on the empty wall in front of her.  No window, just a sunset-peach-painted house next to her saudade-blue-painted house.

Laura’s favorite picture of Gina was taken at the beach, and it hung right above her vanity.  It was the summer after high school graduation, and anyone could tell just from her smile.  The weather was windy that day, and Laura picked out an acid-wash jean jacket for her to buy from one of the clothing shops on the pier.  Gina brought that jacket to UCLA with her.  It’s her second year studying film.

And just as before Kelly Branwood was manifested, white noise continued to pack itself as high as the ceiling.  Laura chose to stay.