I dreamed my childhood friend Stephanie was still alive, but close to death. She and her father were spending a week up at Tahoe, or somewhere—maybe even up at Clearlake. At her nana and grandpa‘s house. Les’s parents.
I said that I had to work during the week; how about if I came up on Friday evening for a visit? Was I also housesitting for them? Stephanie loved the idea. But Les was distant and cold, and also weird. I was upset, I said, look it was only a suggestion. You can say yes or no, but don’t make me feel like shit. And then I ran away, crying.
Steph and Les fought like crazy, she was exhausted. The bone cancer was relentless. He carried her towards the house. We were at her other grandmother Mimi‘s place at the bottom of the hill, standing in the driveway. She was saying goodbye to all her relations.
I had run to the top of the field, to the far left corner and hid myself in the shrubs and sedge clumps. He carried her near to where I was hiding and put her down. They were both crying. She heard me sob, and they gathered me up too.
All three of us crying over the inevitable. There was blood all over the place. Why was my hair done up in multiple braids? Long ropes of dark hair like an octopus on the ground.
Curiously, I was lying downhill trying to hide in what little cover there was in the upper pasture. My head and a purse or a bag—black objects. I was afraid they were too noticeable in the blonde grass.There was such sorrow among all of us. I still grieve for Stephanie, my childhood friend.
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