Let Go

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Come on, you stupid baby, let go!”

“Nooooo!”

The taller, older girl made a face at the other sitting next to her. Dear God, sometimes she was SUCH a baby.

“Ellie, let go of the dumb bar!” she screamed at her companion.

“No Megan,” was the response, “you can’t make me.”

“Wanna make a bet?” and without warning, Megan turned sideways in her seat, and began to tickle Ellie.

“Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!” Ellie screamed, shrilly, her voice shaking in terror. “I’m going to fall out!”

“No you’re not, Ellie. For crying out loud, we haven’t even left the station yet. Just wait’ll we actually start heading up the hill,” she said, the second part mostly to herself. The terrified girl still managed to hear it, and instantly began to cry.

“Stupid eight-year-olds” thought the older girl. She just couldn’t deal with them. Always crying and whining and saying they were going to tattle on you…thank GOD Megan was past that. She had just celebrated her 10th birthday last Sunday.

Megan looked over at Ellie, her one and only cousin, and sighed. It was a shame that she was such a wuss. Sometimes, she could be lots of fun. Just as long as she wasn’t afraid. And Ellie was always afraid.

She was afraid of the dark, she was afraid of clowns, she was afraid of bugs, she was even afraid of dogs. What kind of kid is afraid of DOGS?

Ellie, that’s who.

Megan looked up at the people around the train. Excitement was welling in the pit of her stomach; she loved roller coasters. Not like Ellie. Man, if Ellie would just give it a chance, she’d see there was nothing to be afraid of.

Her cousin was to her right, cowered over the bar; eyes squeezed shut, entire body shaking. Again, Ellie sighed. “I guess I should probably ask to be let off,” she thought. If Ellie really did tell on her, who knew what Mom would do when they got back home. She’d probably take away her bike. Megan shivered. She didn’t want to think about that. Talk about scary.

Just then, however, the train jerked forward with a start. Oh well. So much for that idea.

Megan turned around in her seat, faced forward.

“Ellie, trust me, nothing bad is going to happen. All you gotta do is let go, and scream. When we get to the top, it’ll be like the greatest thing in the world. You’ll feel like you’re flying!” she said.

“I don’t want to fly, I want to go home,” said Ellie, prying a hand away from the now-sweaty bar to wipe her eyes.

They started their ascent.

“Well, ok, you can hold onto my arm, then,” Megan said, offering her right arm.

Ellie took it with her left hand, her right arm still twisted around the lap bar.

“I love roller coasters, Ellie. The best part is right when you’re at the top; you can see the whole world for a second; it’s the greatest thing ever Ellie. Trust me, if I like it, you’ll like it.”

“Says who?” Ellie asked, her eyes still clamped shut.

“Says me,” and with that, the train reached the top of the lift.

For a split second, the world was suspended. Megan lifted her left arm, opened her mouth wide to scream in anticipation. Ellie squinted open her right eye, just as the train began its fall back down to earth.

“Let go, Ellie, just let go!”

*********

“And as I mentioned last week in class, the materials we covered up to yesterday will be on this test,” Dr. Franks said, “any questions?” He scanned the room, pointed to the kid in the front row.

Damn, he’s hot.

The guy, not Dr. Franks. If you ask me, Dr. Franks looks like…a ballpark frank. With glasses.

But yeah, that kid. His name is Eric, and right now, I couldn’t give a damn what he was saying, or what Dr. Franks’ answer was. I’m chewing on my pen cap, just staring at the back of Eric’s head. My eyes are glazing over as I quickly drift into the land I know so well: Fantasyland. In it, Eric has his arms around me and is talking to me, or laughing at a joke that I told him. Eric is in love with me, and I am in love with that world.

Of course, that world exists only in my poor deluded head. I have no idea how many times I’ve gone there, but I’ve been crushing on him for the better part of a year. He knows who I am, he says hi to me. He’s nice, and smart too, with his nerdy glasses that frame his gorgeous eyes. I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s out of my league, money-wise, looks-wise, or socially-…wise.

I like him, I really really like him. Too bad he doesn’t like me.

I know he doesn’t. He would’ve said something by now, if he did.

At this thought, I stop my daydreaming, pulling my drool-covered pen from my mouth. “How could he like me?” I think to myself in a bout of self-pity. It sucks, but then again, life sucks. Dr. Franks dismisses class, and I gather my books, shove them into my shoulder bag, and head on out.

*********

Of course, it’s raining; it’s been raining for a week, and jackass me forgot my umbrella on my desk. I reach for the hood on my sweater, to at least cover my increasingly-wet auburn hair, but of course, I didn’t wear a hooded sweatshirt.

“Shit,” I say to myself.

The person in front of me stops, turns around, and looks at me. It’s Eric.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey” I said, smiling with my mouth, but not with my eyes. I don’t know what he looks like when he says hi to me, because basically, I refuse to look at him.

Why?

Well, simply put, I am socially retarded. I can’t hold a meaningful conversation with a male to save my life. He pauses, and belatedly I wonder if he wants to say more, or wonders if I’m going to say more, but of course, neither one of us does. He turns back around and leaves. I felt like an idiot.

Naturally, I thought that the failed conversation would be the low point of the day, but I was wrong.

That day was also the day my cousin began to die. When I got back to my room, there was note that my mom needed to talk to me. It was urgent.

I thought she was exaggerating. I thought she was being theatrical. I didn’t believe her when she said that Megan’s kidneys were failing, that her body was shutting down. Instead of crying, I laughed in disbelief. I even pinched myself; this was a bad dream, it had to be.

“What? Wha-how? How’s that possible? I saw her last week; she was perfectly fine, what-all of a sudden?” I stutter and stumble over my words, as reality slowly coursed through my veins. My mouth was so dry, my throat felt like it had closed up; I don’t know how I managed to get anything out.

“She collapsed last night at work. She was feeling sick for a few days, but I guess she thought she was just getting the flu or something…”

My mom, never an emotionally stable woman, drifted off into what I could tell would be body-wracking sobs. For the second time in less than an hour, my mouth was hanging open, my eyes were glazed over, all the blood in my body seemed to have rushed into my face. I started to shake and felt hot and cold all at once. A thought dimly entered my mind that I needed to do something; I couldn’t just stand there like a mindless monkey.

Although I don’t remember how, I found out where Megan was. I left my room, my hall; went past numerous buildings and people; some tried saying hello, but I just ignored them. I felt like I was sleepwalking. My brain could not function, other than to tell me which way my feet needed to walk in order to get to the parking lot.

This couldn’t be happening. She’ll probably be ok. Mom’s probably being overly-dramatic about this. Like when I cracked my front tooth when I was nine, she called an ambulance. Yes, Megan will be fine.

By the time I auto-piloted myself to the hospital, everyone else in our families had gotten there. My parents were there, Nana was there, and of course, Aunt Denni and Uncle Dave were there. As I had pictured, my mom looked frantic, tired, worried.

What I did not expect was that almost everyone looked worse.

“Is she ok?” I asked. No one answered me at first, but then my dad came up to me, put an arm on my shoulder, and told me to sit down.

“Megan’s really sick,” he said, talking to me as if I was about 5. “Her kidneys are both failing, and the doctors don’t think there’s much time.”

“Much time for what?” I asked.

“For her. She needs a donor, or she’s not going to make it.”

The simple truth hit me like a friggin cement truck. Megan can’t possibly be that sick. She’s only 23. Just two years older than me. She’s got a lot ahead of her. What the hell? Why did this happen?

I asked, to no one in particular, if I could go see her; they said that yes, I could, but that Megan was sedated, and probably might not be able to talk. My dad led me down the hall to where they were keeping my cousin.

I entered alone; my dad said that they weren’t allowed more than one person in there at a time. The room was dark and small. Machines buzzed and hummed and beeped. There, in the center of the room, lie Megan.

Megan, who at 5’10” is no small person. Normally, her curly, sun-kissed blonde hair is perfectly styled; her face is perfect, her green eyes clear and full of laughter. She visits the tanning booth regularly, so her skin is always at least 2 shades darker than mine. Her big mouth is always talking, or singing, or telling me something about her latest boyfriend. In so many ways, she’s bigger than me; her personality outshines mine, just like she does. Where she is the sun, I am the moon, different as day and night.

But now, there she is. Just lying there on the hospital bed. Her skin and her now limp hair look the same; pale, with a sickly green tinge. Her eyes are closed, but I can see, even in the shadows, that her smooth skin is pasty; there are ugly circles under her eyes. Her arms are placed neatly at her sides, and are invaded by IV’s and other contraptions that I’ve never seen before. I reach out to touch her hand, but when I do, I instinctively pull back. She’s so cold. Too cold.

If it wasn’t for the blue monitor, beeping at an annoying consistent rate, I’d think she was dead.

I bring my hand back to hers, but this time I keep it there.

A small moan escapes her lips, and she opens her eyes. Oddly enough, they too seem to be the same color as everything else: pale yellow.

I smile at her.

“Hey, chica, how you feeling?” I say gently.

“I’ve been better,” she mutters, smiling a little.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. And by the way, hun, that gown,” I say, pointing to the hospital-issue white and blue cloth, “is not your color.”

She laughs a little at that.

“You idiot, I’m the one who taught you everything you know about color, Miss-I-Think-That-Wearing-A-Yellow-Top-With-Green-Sweatpants-Makes-Me-Look-Good.”

“Ugh, shut up, I was eight.”

“Yeah, but you still did it,”

“Yeah well, don’t forget who did all your algebra homework in high school, Missy.”

“I don’t,” she said, “I won’t.”

She closed her eyes again, wincing in pain, and instantly I am brought back to the realization that she’s really sick.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s just that every now and then, it really hurts.”

I don’t know what to say. Nothing comes out of my mouth.

“So, what classes did you ditch to come here and see me?” she asked.

“None, actually,”

“Oh, damn…shoulda planned this one out better,” she said.

“Don’t even say that, Meg. And anyways, I don’t care if I was making out with the hottest guy in town, I’d still ditch him to come here and hold your sweaty hand.”

“Aww, thanks, kiddo. I’m so touched. Speaking of making out, how about that guy you’ve been telling me about?”

Crap. What the hell, she’s laying in a hospital bed, and she’s STILL thinking about men?

“Oh. What about it?” I shrug, dismissively. She’s talking about Eric, and she only knows about him because I got drunk on my 21st birthday and spilled my guts, both literally and figuratively.

“Don’t give me that stupid-act,” she said, “You and I both know you’re 10 times smarter than that. Now, dish.”

I sigh. I never win arguments with her. Can’t see how now will be any different.

“I saw him in class today, that’s about it,”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And, did you talk to him?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Ugh, Ellie, I told you last time, how is he going to get the chance to know you if you sit behind him all the time like a dumb mute?”

“Easy. He’s not. If he wanted to know something, he would ask. And since he hasn’t…”

“I’ll tell you what I told you last time,” she said, whispering again, “boys are dumb. Who knows what they’re thinking. He could think you’re a great girl. You’re not the easiest person to read, and I know you. Chances are that you’re sending him the wrong signals.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Hmm, I dunno, probably something like, ‘Hi my name is Ellie and I eat men for breakfast, hear me roar’?”

I crack up.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No it’s not. Or maybe the fact that you never talk is saying something else, like, ‘hello, my name is Ella, I would like to be a nun, therefore do not bother me’?”

“Meg…” I begin, but she puts up a hand to silence me.

“Shhhhh. Ellie, hun, you have nothing to be afraid of. If he likes you, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Umm…and more likely, what if he doesn’t?”

“Then don’t worry about it. He’s a douchebag anyway, and not worth your time.”

“I’m just afraid that I’ll end up, I dunno, hurt or something…”

“Ellie, you’ll survive. You need to let go. Your doubts, your fears, just let them go.”

I look into her dim eyes, and smile.

“I’ll try.”

“Do, moron, DO” she says and shoes me away, “I’ve got to get my beauty sleep. I’m guessing I need it right now.”

*********

The next week was full of tests for Megan. I skipped all of my classes that week, bothering only to email my professors about a family emergency. My mind was operating on one track, and it had nothing to do with school.

They found that indeed, her kidneys were failing; she was hooked up to a dialysis machine, but despite it helping her, I think it made things worse for her. In a few days, her appearance completely morphed into someone I had never seen before. She was skinny and sick and increasingly pale. She was quickly withering away, it seemed, and who knows if anything would stop it? It was hard to look at her, but still, it made me feel better, every time they let me in to see her.

The doctors suggested a transplant from a family member; we were all tested, one by one.

One by one, the results came back.

None of us were compatible. I wanted to give her a kidney. Hell, I would have given both. She deserved that much. She had so much to live for. Megan had a purpose here, and I loved her.

She was bumped up on the donor list, and although a few doctors told us that anything could happen, that there was still hope, I could see it in their eyes that they didn’t believe the words they were saying.

It didn’t make sense, and it wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve this. How could this happen? How could a beautiful, smart, vibrant young woman have this happen to her? It should’ve been me in there, on that bed. I would have been ok with that. She had plans for life. Me, what was I going to do? I couldn’t even declare a major.

How could this happen to her? I kept asking myself over and over and over again, until eventually my brain was so exhausted that I fell asleep. Megan was sick, really sick. The worst thing I had to deal with was my propensity to err on the side of caution. And I could avoid that. I DID avoid that. I could hide from what scared me, what was the biggest obstacle in my life.

Megan had no choice. Her body didn’t give it to her; God didn’t give it to her. I cursed him for that. Why didn’t he see that she was needed here? How could he take her away when I needed her advice, her help, her support? How could he take away my shoulder to lean on?

I think somewhere in my mind, it registered that I was being selfish. There was no way that I could even fathom what she was going through, and maybe, just maybe, it was better for her to let go. Let go, just like she told me. NO, she wouldn’t have to let go.

The same day we found out that I was not an acceptable donor, she asked to see me.

“Sit down,” she whispered. She rarely spoke above a whisper. The energy for anything more just wasn’t in her.

I obeyed her, perched myself precariously on the edge of her bed.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Oh? What a surprise.” I teased, not wanting to deal with the somber reality of the moment. I couldn’t.

Any other day, and she would’ve swatted me on the head. Today, she just smiled sadly.

“I’m thinking that this whole kidney thing might not work out for me,”

I immediately went to contradict her. She doesn’t know that. How CAN she know that? She puts up a hand to stop me.

“Ell, don’t pretend. I know it’s really bad, and let’s face it; I might not make it out of here. But I want you to do something for me, ok kiddo?”

“Sure, anything” I say, fighting the tears I can feel coming. There was no way I was going to let them fall right now, in front of her. If she wasn’t going to be strong for herself, then I would. Somebody had to.

“Remember that time, when we were kids? I took you on that roller coaster?”

“You mean the time you had me so scared that I nearly peed myself?” I said, trying not to choke on my words, “Sure, one of my favorite memories.”

“Remember how scared you were to let go of the bar?” She asked.

I remembered.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to do it for me, again. Just let go. Live your life, Ellie, and open your eyes. The view from the top is so beautiful. You can see the whole world, if only for a second. You can fly.” She said wistfully, her eyes tearing.

“But Megan,”

“Shut up already,” she said, snapping out of her reverie “You didn’t fall out then and you’re not going to fall out now.”

“Well, DUH, that’s because you were holding on to me!” I said, losing my battle with my emotions.

“No, Ellie, you were holding on to me,” she said, “You can’t do that anymore. You’re a big girl, now. It’s time to let go of me, of the bar. You can do it”

“No, I can’t” I say, stubbornly. Why she was so bent on dying and leaving me here, I didn’t know. How could she? She was like a sister; my friend, a part of ME.

I told her as much.

“Yeah, damn straight I’m a part of you. And that part of you is telling you to have fun. Go skinny-dipping or something. Tell that guy you like him. Apply to really good schools, and for God’s sake, stop selling yourself short. Promise me you’ll do that Ellie. Promise me you’ll let go. What good is a life when you’re too afraid to live it? I’m young Ellie, but I’ve done so much. I only wish I could do more. You have the chance honey, you do. You have to let go, Ellie. Promise?”

Speechless, I nodded my head, and lowered it to kiss her cheek. I don’t want to let go.

*********

Ten days after she was admitted to the hospital, my 23-year-old cousin Megan died. Her system shut down, just stopped working for her. At 3:02 am, Sunday March 12, she went away. Just like that.

And I wasn’t even there.

*********

She was buried on the family plot, near our grandfather, and right in between where her parents would be, someday, years from now. It was so cold outside; I shivered in my wool coat. My eyes were so dry and sore from crying that they stopped doing it. It was an effort just to blink. I didn’t pay attention to a single word the priest said, all throughout the mass and at the cemetery. That stuff didn’t matter; no eulogy or prayer or anything could ever speak to me like Megan could. Megan knew me, and I knew Megan.

I loved Megan more than I loved my own parents. But right now, I hated her, too. I hated her for leaving, and I hated her for telling me to let go of her, of everything else that was holding me back.

Megan lived her life. I felt like mine was being a stubborn ass about starting up. Now, with Megan gone, who was there to hold my hand? To let me hold theirs?

I stood at the side of her grave, alone after everyone left. For a while I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t see. It’s amazing how you can have something your whole life, and then one day, it’s not there anymore. Megan was so much to me.

But maybe she had a point. There was no telling when I could die; I could live another day, or I could live for another sixty years. Megan did as much as she could in her time; I didn’t. Again, that’s how different we are. No, were.

If our places were switched, and I was the one down there in the dirt, I’d be taking nothing with me but 20 years of regrets and fears, missed opportunities, failed dreams, and empty hopes. I looked up at the sky; the sun was peeking out from behind the clouds.

No, just because Megan was dead, that didn’t mean I had to be, too. The only thing she ever asked of me- that last time we spoke- that was the least I could do for her, wasn’t it? Nothing else I did helped her. But this, I could at least try. Maybe...

I backed away from the grave, put my hand to my lips, and blew her coffin a kiss. I turn away, and begin to run. I know where I’m going, and I know what I’m going to do.

*********

“AGHHH!”, Ellie screamed, both eyes open now.

Megan was right; it was an awesome view from up here. The train was moving so fast, she loosened her grip on Megan and forgot about holding on. Megan was glad. By the time the coaster mounted the second hill, Ellie’s arms were both free, held up in the air, feebly at first, and then with more confidence as again the track took them down, winding in and out of itself. Her eyes were tearing in the wind, her hair was blowing all over the place, but she was screaming, she was flying, she felt wonderful. The bunny-hops at the end made her laugh; made her hiccup. Ellie felt such a rush; she wanted to milk the ride for everything it was worth, and when it was over, she was satisfied.

“I let go, Megan!” she whispered in a proud, disbelieving tone, “Did you see it? I let go!”