Free

“Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that." ~Ally Condie

That is all I put on the note. The only trace that I had ever existed. The only thing I left behind as I slipped from that room.

I had ran away from home last month. I had lived in a hotel with my meager belongings since. I made sure to discard my other things properly before leaving with the essentials. 

And then I bumped into Charlotte, my best friend since birth.

I was wandering the halls of the hotel, just like the other days, hoping I wouldn’t seem suspicious. A teenage girl pacing in a hotel with no parents in sight? Not to mention it has been a few weeks since she started. Fortunately, no one had come to question me, though I received some strange looks from the other people in the hotel. I’m very glad and thankful they hadn’t told the staff.

Then one visitor stepped from her room and gasped. She then proceeded to observe me closer than all the other people who had stared at me as I strode in the halls. I shuddered under her unrelenting gaze, but continued walking.

“A-Angela?”

I froze. For a fleeting second, I thought that my mom had found me. But then I remembered that my mom hated hotels. Even though this was the closest hotel to home, she would never come and check. She might suspect, but she would never ever set foot in a hotel, not even if she is 99% sure that I was in here. She wouldn’t even come if she was 100% sure. She would send someone to come fetch me though. However, my mom is a woman with a reputation to uphold and has no way of knowing where I am, so she couldn’t risk even that 1% chance of me not being here and the humiliation that she would feel when it turns out that I was somewhere else. People would ask questions. That would be horrible for her precious reputation, so precious she would sacrifice her daughter for it. And dad wouldn’t care, if he even noticed I had left. So, I knew I was safe at the hotel. 

But then who could it be that was calling my name? A neighbor? Why would they come to the hotel when their houses are right there? 

I turned slowly and found the woman who had observed me so carefully opening her mouth and calling my name again.

“Who the **** are you?” I question, raising my voice as much as I dared in the hallway. I was angry. And scared. Terrified. My imagination runs wild and I see myself dying hundreds of ways under this woman’s hands. “How do you know my name?” My voice is shrill and cracks at the end. I wince.

“Angela! It really is you!” The stranger starts towards me and I back away.

“What the **** do you want? Go away!” I tried to make my voice sound tough and commanding, but it comes out as a squeak.

“It’s me, Charlotte!” 

This stranger knows my bestie’s name? How? Even my closest friends from school don’t know of her. My parents had thought we lost contact ages ago. And now a random lady knows her and is pretending to be her? I knew she was lying. Charlotte had moved to the other side of the country a couple years ago, and had not mentioned anything about coming here in our long conversations on Messages. Nor in our calls. And this lady, this complete stranger, looks nothing like how Charlotte had looked. Charlotte was shorter than me, she hated makeup as I did, looked younger than her age, and was - no offence- rather chubby. This slim, tall lady covered in makeup can’t possibly be Charlotte. Only the long, auburn hair was the same.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you we were coming,” The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte said. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I- What?” I was shocked. This was indeed a surprise. A fake Charlotte? I had never dreamed of anything like this. But… The voice was obviously the voice of Charlotte, we call every week. No. The woman must be faking it. 

The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte sighed. “You don’t believe me.”

Here is where the woman says, ‘Well, too bad. I tried. But you are right. I am not Charlotte. I am the lady who is going to kill you.’ then laughs evilly. I braced myself for the truth.

“I know I’d changed, but I hadn’t thought that even you won’t recognize me.” the The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte said instead. “Look, I’m Charlotte, believe it or not.”

I shake my head, as much as to say “no way” as to chase away my crazy thoughts.

“How about this. You text me with your phone and then my phone will go off. Then you’ll know it’s me.”

My mind whirred. The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte might have stolen Charlotte’s phone. It would only confirm this lady is more insane than I thought, and I didn’t want to know that.

“Earlier, you said ‘we were coming.’ So, supposing you are Charlotte, you came with your parents?” I say.

“Yes, I’ll go get them now! They still look exactly as they did before we moved, so you’ll definitely recognize them. You always come up with the best ideas, Angela!”

When The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte went back to her room, I stood there, trying to assess my situation. They would be working as a group. If the supposed “parents” of the supposed “Charlotte” had bothered to disguise themselves nicely, why hadn’t The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte? Maybe she wanted me to ask to see the parents so that I would have no doubt it was my friend? My thoughts raced, as did my heart. Then suddenly, I felt utter defeat. I may as well go along. It’s not like I have anything to lose. All I had was parents that didn’t care and friends that wouldn’t miss me. If real-Charlotte finds out I’m dead, she’ll shed a tear or two, then get on with her life. She was a social butterfly. She would keep going. 

At that thought, I realized just how feeble our friendship was. I was now probably just an option for her, while she was everything to me. If The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte is the real deal, perhaps she got bored and decided to come over to visit me, just to have something to do. Then she said she wanted to surprise me, just to cover up the fact that the decision was made last minute. That she wasn’t sure until just now. We had been growing apart, the messages less often, the calls more sparse.

And so, I played along with The-Lady-Who-Claims-to-be-Charlotte, and as she talked, I grew more and more sure it was Charlotte, and I grew more and more sure that she had other friends she cares about now. And when she asked me about my new friends, I replied, “I have a couple.” I had none.

And she said, “Oh good, I was worried you might not be able to make new friends.” I knew she was teasing me about my shyness. I knew she meant no harm. But it hurt. And the fact she just laughed, and went on talking, that hurt even more. Her not noticing my pained expression was a punch to the gut. She tore my heart to shreds when she never ever noticed my lie, my aching, my bewilderment at how much she had changed. 

And so, my best friend since birth became another one of those uncaring faces around me. 

And so, I thought - What’s the point? It’s not like I can stay in the hotel for the rest of my life. It’s not like though I would be hurting anyone by leaving.

And so, a week passed. Charlotte seemed to grow more and more distant, our friendship more and more dim. I had appreciated it when it was glowing brightly, but now that it is fading I find myself too exhausted to chase after it.

And so, when we went on a walk around a lake, I found myself drawn toward the water and the peace it would provide.

And so, here I am now, sneaking away from my former best friend’s hotel room, leaving behind only a note, hoping and knowing that no matter how tangled our roots used to be, she wouldn’t be dragged into the water behind me. The knots binding us would loosen in the water, not tighten. And, with only the smallest bind of fading memories tying us together, both of us would be set free.