Incinerate

Chapter 3 - Wish You Were Here

          The house becomes a cardboard kingdom over the course of the weekend. With the amount of empty boxes that pile up all over, it would be a cat's paradise. Cujo, being of the canine variety, shows less appreciation for the clutter than Peyton's little whiskery friend Mr. Meowzers. He sniffs each one, pokes his head in the open top, and moves along either bored or disappointed. As Mom and I start to break them down and stack them in the living room, the place starts to look more and more like home.

          There are still a couple of boxes full of memorabilia sitting in the corner of my room between the shelf and the door. In between rounds of Call of Duty, indulgences of literary classics, and losing games of Tug of War with Cujo, I dive into the box on top. Sitting at the top of the unorganized yet contained mess of things is a dull silver five-pointed star. At the end of each point is a small circle, and the word SHERIFF is engraved in the center of the star. An ancient relic, the little badge dates back to when I was seven. Dad had introduced me to the Wild West that summer with shows like Rawhide and Bonanza, so naturally I had wanted to be a sheriff for Halloween. Mom wasn't the biggest fan of the idea; I think she didn't like her little Ash walking around with a toy gun or something. But Dad fought hard (meaning he bought a costume behind Mom's back) and won that battle. With my little cow print vest, wide-brimmed hat, and spurs on my boots, Mom admitted that it was a cute idea.

          Placing the little silver badge on a shelf, I go back to the box. Three small stuffed animals catch my eye, each a puppy dog wearing a T-shirt. The first is a tan beagle with brown ears and a brown spot over his left eye. His shirt, a simple green material, sports a white caduceus and the words "Northwestern Medicine Huntley Hospital" underneath the snakes and winged rod. Mom and Dad bought him for me when I was five. We were at the hospital saying our goodbyes to Grandpa Woodward as his battle with cancer was coming to its close. The next stuffed dog, a tawny pug in a purple shirt from the same hospital, had joined the family when Grandma Woodward passed after her own bout with the Big C. Keeping up with the trend, the last puppy was also when Grandma Warren started her journey up the stairway to Heaven after nearly a hundred years. This one, an adorable black and white husky, matches its shirt with its bright blue eyes.

          The three puppies join the shelf, and I take one last look into the box. Behind a thin pane of glass and bordered by light wood, either smiling or making silly faces at the camera, is a young couple. The girl, with rich brown skin and thick curly black hair, squints in most of the small square snapshots. Her cohort in the goofiness has pale skin and sandy blond hair that shrinks from one strip to the next. Together, they make an adorable couple with their unbridled happiness and unabashed selves. Such sweet photo booth sessions. Peyton and I had done the first one on a whim one summer day as we strolled through the mall. The second strip had been the year after as we celebrated the last week before becoming freshmen. The third and final photo strip is from last year; despite everything going on in my life, I had finally asked her to be my girlfriend. The last frame forever holds the moment of our first kiss.

          My fingertips caress the memories for a moment before I hold the picture frame close to my heart. I think of Peyton and imagine her wistfully looking at her own framed photographs of us. I send positive thoughts and warm hugs to her, wherever she may be and whatever she may be doing. Longing slithers into my heart, and I retreat to my bed. I set the frame on my bedside table next to my alarm clock and pick up my phone. Scrolling through my contacts, I find Peyton's number and hit the DIAL button.

          Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

          "Hi, this is the voicemail for Peyton Mack. I'm not available right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you."