The List
Rain poured, more than I have ever seen. Driving on the crowded street I longed for the clearing of cars I had seen off in the distance. The cars moved as a pack blindly following the person in front even though they could not see what was coming ahead; more traffic or sweet release of the tension to continue on their way. There I was in my used pearl and paint chipped slug bug listening to the only songs I had that were still available on CD. The car felt like a memento from the early 2000’s filled with Britney's powerful ballads and Jesse McCartney's heartbreak anthems. The car squeaked with every inch closer to what seemed to be freedom due to the mixture of hope and frustration on the passengers of the other cars faces. But for me, I was glad that we had a traffic cluster because the letter I had written just did not seem right.
I had revised it a hundred times, yet I could not seem to write what I wanted to say. Nothing seemed substantial enough. I could feel my body temperature running and rising higher and higher. I rolled up my sleeves to release some of the heat from my arms and I rolled down the window of my car to have more airflow to my skin. The rain came pouring onto my ripped jeans quickly being absorbed into the fabric.
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Nothing was stopping this flash of heat throughout my body and listening to Lady Gaga's golden hits, I felt the wave of nostalgia come over me. I was unable to hear the honking of horns or the wind whistling through me ears. All I could hear was Ella’s voice butchering the lyrics and her correcting me on those same words even though we had not heard the songs since we were sitting in the back seat of our Mom’s car on the way to school.
It felt like I had been slapped in the face with a book and the chapters were filled with every emotional angst and triumph I had thought about her. My therapist always told me that whenever I felt as if I could not breathe or felt overcome with emotion, I should detach myself from whatever was causing the stress which in my case was the letter. It just did not feel quite real to me. The pieces of paper was insignificant to me.
The cars were at a complete stop and there was no way around it. On the highway, all I could see was a gas station and a small coffee shop that appeared to have not been redone since the 70’s. I knew this would be the only place that seemed somewhat inviting to me.
I tried to weave my way over to the side of the street yet the cars were jammed back to back. The shiny black SUV next to me unexpectedly pulled off to the parking lot I so yearned for. I quickly nudged my way into the lane where the black car last was and eventually turned into the parking lot in front of the coffee shop.
The screeching of my car came to a low whine and with the turn of my keys it fell silent. No more top hits of the early 2000’s, I sat with the windows open and the rain slowly became a light sprinkle. I leaned to the right to find the handle to my seat and once I unlocked it, I pushed
my back into the upholstery eventually getting the seat all the way down unable to see what was directly outside.
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I loved the way the air smelled like the pavement after a heavy rainstorm. Where all you can hear is the last of the raindrops dripping off of the cars. I felt as if I was in an abandoned town waiting for a tumble weed to pass by my car. Silence was sometimes all I needed to hear. Now silence is all I hear. I pulled my phone out from under my thigh still warm from the seat. I opened my phone quickly willing myself to ignore all the notifications on it. I opened Spotify and scrolled down my playlists as if I was trying to find a new song on there. The last playlist on my phone said “Ellas Greatest Hits” and I clicked on it as I had never seen it before.
I pressed shuffle play and locked my phone folding my arms under my chest trying to find a more comfortable position. The beginning instruments and hype beat started to play of “She’s a Riot” and I closed my eyes searching for some break from the continuous trains of thought. Thoughts that coursed through my conscious and allowed my mind to wander to any hidden valley behind the colors of blue and green I could see with my eyes closed.
Growing up in sunny Malibu, I remember how excited and elated Ella and I would be to wake up and hear the crackling of rain and the cool wind that washed in through the blinds. No matter what time of year it was, when rain happened, fall happened for us. We would pull out the only sweaters we owned still soft and plush like it was brand new. Next we would crawl under our beds to find our black shiny Doc Martens stuffed in the back of the storage space just barely broken in and the only indication of being worn were the crevices along the ankle slowly being crushed and wrinkled together to form around our feet. We would find our fuzzy lush socks to protect our feet from the cool leather. Lastly, we would both tear apart our rooms and search for what always seemed like hours for that one knit beanie we each had; Ella’s was a light blue beanie with a puff on top and mine all black with a small “Neff” beanie label on the side. These days were the only days that we actually looked like twins matching from head to toe. No matter how hot it was in mixture of the rain and humidity, we wore our sweaters with pride and spent the day watching whatever old movie was playing, trying to indulge in the autumn themed world we had created.
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Ella and I rarely said “ I love you” to one another because it was always implied. Ella puts up a concrete exterior with everyone and the only time you could get through to her as when we had our ‘fall days’. Her life was a rollercoaster through boyfriends, sports, and rigorous school work at every turn, Ella in a good mood was once in a blue moon. Times of vulnerability and pleasing nature were the only instances I could get through to her.
Now, all I can hear is the guitar riff in “Shes a Riot” and her yelling at me again about getting the lyrics wrong. I remember her showing me this song for the first time, She hooked me on it saying “ this song is so me Lily” , which she said about every song. She became addicted to each song for about a week before slowly moving onto the next hit off her favorite artists, yet this one song really did describe her. Every day Ella always had some crazy and wild plan and adventure. She always was passionate about a different band, book, or political statement that made her riled up for the moment.
Slowly my eyes opened as the residue of the songs slowly faded into the pause between the songs. By this time it was dark out and I could not tell if I was dreaming or in a daze from my thoughts. I rolled my window back up while pushing the lock button on the handle and reached to get my blanket that smelled of the sea breeze and dirty sand from the backseat as I returned back to my warm imprinted position in the driver’s seat. I could slowly hear the main chords of the next song and the instrumental winds coming through the speakers of my phone. Ella always had a soft spot for 60’s music partially because that all we would hear on Saturday morning’s when our Dad would try to convince us to clean the garage in exchange for donuts and partially because she enjoyed the originality of the songs and the influence they had on the music that was on the top 10 today. “Blowin in the Wind” came on and a calm rushed through my body. The simple guitar strokes and the whispers of voices and lyrics intertwined.
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I loved the way our car drove on Prospect Avenue at 5pm. The sun always set in a great and vibrant color map. Driving back and forth until we could find a parking spot along the beach and to waste time before we had to go home and face reality. We were listening to Ella’s song at the moment “ Itchin on a Photograph”. Yet, no matter what we had been listening to recently, once we turned onto Prospect Avenue, Ella would always put on some classics or as our Dad would say “the good old days music”.
Turning on The Doors, Bob Dylan, or whatever was spotted first from our what seemed to be a neverending playlist. Sure, sometimes I wanted to play my music and maybe, I did not always care for what she had to play, but I was happy to be sitting shotgun next to her.
I kept a blanket in the back of our car because of the cold breeze gradually taking over our bodies as the sun came down. In the silence in between the songs I felt peace crash over me and did not worry about who was blowing up my phone. I would turn it off after a while and put my hand in between my thighs to keep warm. I took deep breaths through the wind piling and bouncing off my face. I could feel my nose becoming cold and crisp as the air and my hair becoming more and more tangled blowing in the wind.
Ella would be on her phone the entire time answering texts that she thought required her attention. I knew she would get mad at me but I did not care and pulled her phone away from her. Her face angered and asked for it back. Yet, I persevered and I told her to look at the sunset. About 50% of the time she would actually look up at her surroundings and the rest of the time she would punch me in my thigh and ask for her phone back. No matter what she did I turned back to the sunset hearing all the tunes and soft guitar strums passing through my ears. These were the moments where I was not worried about a math test or practice, all I was focused on was the sound of waves coursing through my ears. We would have to eventually go home and finish the homework we said we would start but had somehow slipped our mind.
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I could hear the last guitar strings of the refrain going off and I opened my eyes to the belief that everything was calm now despite the traffic that awaited me when I pulled out of the parking lot. I slowly readjusted in the car, the upholstery still warm I pulled myself up and buckled my seatbelt. Staring into the abyss of the concrete wall of the coffee shop I began to come back to reality. I pulled down my mirror in my car where I always kept extra paper and dug through the cup holders in my car to find one working pen. I clicked the pen open and began to write. Writing down all the songs that I thought of when I thought about Ella. Every song we jammed to into the car with our mom on the way to school, every song we would listen to constantly for a week and slowly get tired of, songs that shaped our connections and keep the memories between us alive. After ten minutes I clicked the pen closed and jangled my keys to start the ignition.
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I arrived early, too early, so early that I saw the procession of the early morning mass take place. I watched the old ladies getting in their twenty year old cars and others chatting about the
latest gossip about the church. I parked far enough that no one could see what I was doing in the driver’s seat. I lunged back to the backseat of the car and I pulled out the plain dress still with the discounted tag latched on to the zipper and the shiny yet mundane shoes I thought would be best to wear. I quickly hunched over and I ripped off my clothes as fast as I could. Squirming to try get my tights and spandex on.
I pushed my feet into my heels feeling the discomfort of the shoes tight and sharp point. I made sure I had the list and my car keys as I slowly opened the door. I walked over to the chapel, listening to the morning doves in the distance. For about an hour I sat alone in the church by myself, watching a few workers coming to set up for the ceremony.
In an instant friends, family, and people I hardly recognized, came trickling in. All coming up to me and pressing their hand on my shoulder to somehow console me. My Mom and Dad sat beside me and soon enough “ Be not Afraid” by John Michaels began to play and Mom
grabbed my hand for support. The priest finally called me and I grabbed under my thigh for the folded list. The hard wooden floors made my heels pound with every step. I came to a stop and adjusting the microphone I took a deep breath in:
I started to list off all the songs I had wrote down in the car. Thirty songs that popped in my head like popcorn in the microwave. I finished the list by saying:
“Now at twenty five I still remember what it felt like and the comfort of it all to wake up next to Ella on those stormy days. At twenty five I still remember what it was like to hear her laugh and to insult me on messing up song lyrics at every chance she got. At twenty five I still remember what it was like driving down Prospect Avenue at sunset listening to our Dad’s favorite songs feeling free. Ella and I hold a deep connection in the music that we shared over the years and that's where I go when I want to feel closer to her. Ella’s life was indulged with the music she honored and listened to everyday, may we all remember Ella like this, when we miss her or want to be with her.”
I folded my piece of paper back up looking up at the ern placed with the pictures our mom set up there. Behind the pictures I left the list.