I Remember

I remember that night very vividly. Alex called me and asked me to come over to his house. He told me that he had a surprise for me. I got a little nervous as I walked around the block to his house. I remember the lively expression on his mother’s face when she answered the door. I remember Alex and I running out to his backyard while his mother yelled warnings at us to be careful. I could tell he wasn't listening. He and I just wanted to play in the tree house! How dangerous could that be?

I remember climbing up the rope ladder, I remember opening the trap door in the floor of the house to get in it. I remember everything, I just wish I didn't. I remember Alex helping me up into the tree house, and leading me to what seemed to be a picnic. I remember sitting down with a plate of fruit snacks and crackers in front of me. I remember laughing at the 'meal', and Alex blushing and saying that it was the best he could do. I remember him telling me how his mother didn't want him making anything because the last time he tried, they had to get a new kitchen island. I remember the food fight, I remember fishing cracker bits out of my hair the next day. I remember playing Never Have I Ever, and I remember Alex being embarrassed that he had recently partaken in a tea party with his little sister. I remember playing a game of Would You Rather, I remember playing that for 30 minutes. I remember, then starting a game of Kiss, Marry, Kill. I remember saying my name, and two of our friends’ names. I remember him saying he would kiss me. I remember blushing and doing a double take. I remember being bored and suggesting Truth or Dare. What a stupid suggestion. Why the heck did I have to request that game?

I remember him daring me to call my crush, and I remember the very awkward conversation afterward when his phone started to ring, revealing my name. I remember asking him who he had a crush on, but I didn’t get a response. I remember him being flustered and avoiding eye contact with me. I remember him daring me to lick the wall, then in turn me daring him to lick the bottom of his shoe. I remember his mother telling us that lunch was ready, and I remember her trying to get us to come down. I remember staying in the tree house for the rest of the day, no food or water, but we didn’t care. I remember my dare for him to climb out the old, rickety window and try to get on the roof. Why I dared him that, I don't know. I remember what happened when he tried it. I remember the tree branch his was supporting himself on starting to crack. I remember the look on his face when he heard it. I remember him jumping off the branch onto the roof just in time. I remember the shingles starting to fall off. I remember his yells for help as his hands started slipping. I remember the clang of a pot in the kitchen as his mother comes rushing out of the house. I remember looking out the window at the ground, and realizing we were high enough that, if he fell, it would at least break his back, paralyzing him. I remember looking up at the roof, and I remember the words he whispered to me right before it happened. He told that I was his best friend. He told me I was his first friend. Then, I remember the look on his face as his hands slipped off the roof, falling to the ground. I remember the crack as his back hit a long tree branch, but I don't know if that sound was from him or the tree. I remember the thud as he hit the ground. I remember the screams of his mother as she saw his mangled body, blood pooling everywhere. I remember the wails of the sirens nearing the house. I remember the confused looks on his little sisters while they were being ushered back inside. I remember his mother yelling at me questions, asking me what happened, and I remember trying to form words, but nothing seems to be coming out. I remember the squeak of the stretcher wheels as they rolled him into the ambulance. I remember the retreating sirens, taking him to the hospital. I remember running at top speed to the hospital, trying to stay as close to the ambulance as I can. I remember running in and trying to ask what room. I remember sitting in the waiting room, depression and anxiety flooding my senses. I remember being allowed in the room with him. I remember the doctor telling me to tell him goodbye for the last time. I remember seeing the tears drip onto the tile floor. I remember the darkness of the room, ironic, seeing that it was the last room he was going to see before seeing the light. I remember the beeping of the heart monitor at the hospital. I remember him whispering his last words to me, telling me to tell his family that he loves them, and his lips starting to form the words ‘I love you too’, which I can only wonder if they were aimed at me. I remember the feeling of heartbreak and crushing loss as the beeping steadied into one long note. I remember everything, I wish I could only forget it. I remember walking home that night, crushed. I remember looking out the back window of my house, and seeing his backyard. I remember staring at the tree house. I remember thinking it was all my fault. I remember it all. Every last detail is burned in my memory, no chance of it every leaving. I wish I could forget it, but I can’t. And I never can.