Silver Necklace

In retrospect, I was hardly ever confident in my ability to make friends. One may think if you’re an extrovert, it should be easy. And sincerely, I believed that. Which is why every single time a person never went past being an acquaintance, I beat myself up for it. 

Rebecca was my life saver. She’s a forty-seven year old woman, salt and pepper hair that seemed more salty than peppery, and the most hospitable person in my life. I was 12 when I first helped her with groceries on a random weekend; my mother thought it’d be a good idea to talk with one of her old friends and see which one would be alright with getting me out of the house and doing something. We both were polite at first, talking about the weather in the sweltering summer heat and how the nerve-wracking feeling that comes with going into a store by yourself is close to the feeling of suffocating. And then it only took 5 more minutes of rambling to understand we both had anxiety that had the ability to encompass us. Finally, some common ground.

I’d been in and out of friendships, acquaintanceships, whatever it is, for what felt like my whole life. At the staggering age of 16, the only one I felt who knew me was Rebecca. I often felt out of place in our friendship, but she was so welcoming and kind. I knew she had other friends, ones her age, ones who knew her and her husband, ones who knew her parents and siblings. But after a certain point, it didn’t matter to me. 

I practically ran home from school every day while calling or texting my mother that I was going to help Rebecca, and show up at her door around 3:45 in the afternoon with whatever leftover emotions that school day forced me to go through. Sometimes she’d rebuke me like an old lady would, but mostly she sat down with me and listened. It wasn’t long until I was given a conversation I’d wear on my heart for the rest of my life. 

That day was hot and windy. The kind of wind that was nowhere near cool; its only job was to remind you that the sun was going to keep beating down and nothing could stop it. So I was already in a bad mood, and to add to it I ran into a person I knew who found it the most amusing to tug at my nerves. After an agonizing walk to school, I sat in two of my classes before finding myself noticing every pair of eyes in the room. I tried to brush it off, to not cause a scene, to center my thoughts- but every second that flew by I found myself losing stability. My teacher was in the middle of explaining algebra when I got up and walked out. 

I went to the front office, knowing my teacher was probably on the phone with them as I neared the door, and situated myself on the bench beside the office. I questioned what I was even going to do; my mother and father were at work, my older brother was at his college dorm, and there was no other person I could think of who cared. Then I remembered Rebecca. 

I trusted that she’d drive over, I thought, but I recalled you needed a good reason to go home. So I walked to the left of the building, beyond the windows of the office, and stood directly in the sun. Then I shook my head from side to side, vigorously without letup, for what seemed like five minutes straight. I felt like I was going to pass out, so I quickly hurried into the office doors. Surprisingly no one was on the phone, but they did notice I looked extremely red. My hatched plan had worked, and I now had a phone in my hand and a savior in mind. 

She answered at the second go around, I explained to her my situation, and she agreed to pick me up.

“I’m at the grocery store though, Esme. I’ll probably be there in around 10 minutes.” 

“That’s fine…are you at the one near here? Or are you at Plus Mart?” 

“I’m at SaveFoods, sweetie. But I’m almost done, I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay, okay thank you.” 

I’d hung up and waited in total fear that my math teacher would call the office and order me to go back. Every minute that passed, I felt more anxiety settle into my bones. I started shaking, so I brought my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees, and prayed that my teacher was somehow blind and didn’t notice me leave. Mrs. Simmons came into the nurses office and said my name. I looked up.

“Mr. Evans called.” 

I gripped my knees even tighter. 

“I explained to him you’re going home. He expects you to ask next time though. This is a warning, alright?”

I quite literally sighed out of relief. 

Rebecca was punctual, showing up almost exactly at the 10 minute mark, and the very thought of talking with her made me feel at home. As I walked out and into her car, she had a very plain look on her face. 

“Hi Rebecca!” 

“Hello, my dear.” 

I felt a completely different emotion all together emerge into my stomach. Something was off about her tone; something about it reminded me of my mother. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I feel a bit better, I think.” 

She paused. “You look fine, Esme.” 

It was at that moment I realized where the conversation was going.

I chuckled a bit, to try to ease the tension. 

‘I didn’t feel all too good a moment ago, if I’m being honest.” 

“Do you think you really need to go home?” 

“Uhm…yes. Yeah, I felt it getting worse.” 

She nodded her head a bit. “…Do you really believe you couldn’t have stuck it out?” 

I furrow my brow. “No. Really, I mean it. I felt like I was going to start crying. You know what I mean, right?” 

“Yes, I understand. And don’t worry, we’ll head to my house and we’ll call your mother and let her know about all of this. But Esme…” 

She let out a quick sigh and pulled over. 

“I want to ask you this; what is anxiety to you?” 

I sat up a little straighter in my seat. What an odd question, I thought. 

“It’s something I deal with.” 

“Exactly, Esme. It’s something you deal with. I want you to remember,” She turned to the side a bit so that she was facing me, “Whatever it is you’ll carry with you, whether it keeps to just anxiety…or it turns into something more, it will always be something you deal with. But it is not you.” 

I continued to look at her, and strived to not let my emotions show externally. 

“It’ll be that annoying, barking chihuahua in the backyard or that one alarm you keep forgetting to turn off, but please, please…try to never let these things define you, because they don’t. You need to learn, slowly but surely, how to persist. Okay? Does that make sense?” 

I nodded my head a bit and let my gaze turn downwards. A small teardrop rolled down my cheek; Rebecca saw and wiped it away for me. It was that feeling of growth, but every time you grow your responsibility enlarges. You become aware of what you need, what you don’t, and so on. And at that moment, I needed to hear those words. The drive to her place was quiet. I think she wanted me to ponder over what she said, and I did. I’d noticed the sky was getting a bit cloudy when she blurted out- 

“Also, Esme, I need your help. I’m sorry that this is sudden but my friend Georgia, do you remember her? So she called me this morning and told me her granddaughter came to her in tears because all of her friends told her they didn’t want to go to her graduation party today. So you and I are going to go to the store and get her some stuff this evening, okay? Is that alright with you?” 

Now, looking back, I needed to hear that as well. That girl ended up being Olive; a friend that has been with me through thick, thin and all the other sizes in between. She came unexpectedly, like an out-of-the-sky present. I would have never met her if I didn't learn that lesson that day, and she wouldn’t have met me if she knew her worth. But I suppose some of our mistakes can turn into unforeseen blessings, and I find just a tad bit of solace in that. Olive was a year older than me, and when my time to graduate was coming nearer, she helped me plan it all out. 

Some things you can’t plan for though. Rebecca had a stroke a week before my last day of school, and I had mourned through the whole graduation process. I didn’t go to the ceremony; I stayed at home with Olive and we talked. My parents were understanding, my brother was already out of the house, so we had the living room and memories to sift through. We were only sitting down for a bit before we heard the doorbell ring. 

I looked at Olive. She looked back and asked if I invited anybody else. I said no and got up and peeked through the blinds. I saw someone get into a car parked in front of the lawn and drive away. Confused, I opened the door and saw a small gift bag with a post-it note attached to the front. 

I found this in Rebecca’s closet, addressed to Esme. She has this address attached to this name on her fridge, so I hope it finds who it belongs to. -Rosemarie 

I knew that name. It was her sister, who I met only once, briefly, over the phone. I pulled out the paper covering a small jewelry box; in it a small, silver necklace. The cold, metallic chain reflected the warm light from inside as I held it up and read what was engraved on the small plaque. 

It read, She Persevered.