“One, two, three, cheese!”
Snap! Then the familiar whirred buzzing fills the room until a picture falls on the floor. Emily rushes to the propped-up polaroid, reaching under it to get the memory caught in less-than-perfect resolution. She’s still laughing like the world is her sitcom. Laughing like tomorrow promises another hangout in her basement.
“Woah, Sofie, you okay?” Chloe asks me, quiet enough so our friend doesn’t hear. My expression must’ve shifted, and I make an effort to give her a smile.
“Totally.” Her and I share glances between each other and Emily. Emily, who is leaning down to the floor, still looking at the picture. She must’ve picked it up by now. She hasn’t turned back to us, so I take the time to wipe a tear from my cheek.
Emily stands up, and we look at her. Her facade has cracks, but neither Chlo’ nor I say anything. There’s no reason to. “Well, uh,” she clears her throat, “we should,” and gestures to the couch. It sits in front of an old TV that only plays Rocky and Bullwinkle. When I look over to the sitting area, I realize that there’s nowhere to sit, as cardboard boxes marked ‘Garage’ cover the space. “Oh, I’m… right, the couch is covered with the…” she trails off, “anyways!”
“Emily, you should–”
“Let’s bake cookies, then!” Before Chloe could finish her sentence, Emily rushes over to the stairs out of her basement. “Last one up is a–”
“Emily, please.” Somehow, my voice was enough to catch her attention.
My friend freezes in place and turns to face me. “What?” She’s not far enough from the stairs.
There’s a need to stall. And I take matters into my own hands, speaking first. “Can I see the picture?”
Emily looks down at the photo in her hands, then back at me. “Why?”
“I… wanna see how it came out! Like, if I blinked, or anything.” A beat later, she gives in, and glides to the other side of the room. The now-empty room with all its gadgets packed in boxes. When she reaches Chloe and I, with the polaroid picture in hand, I reach for it. But when I grab it, it doesn’t move. Emily’s grip persists, but only for a moment. Once she becomes aware of the moment. This is the first I’ve seen of the picture. Emily’s thumb must’ve smudged where her face was. I can’t see her anymore. All I see is Chloe, and I, trying not to shed a tear at such a bad time.
“Well?” Emily asks.
I can’t bear lying to her. So I don’t. “Well, I sure didn’t blink.”
“Great!” Emily shouts, before taking it from my hands. “Glad we don’t have to retake. That would’ve sucked.”
“It sure would’ve.” Chloe says, and the moment dies with her mundane tone.
Then follows a silence. Across the room, a hanging clock drags out seconds.
Emily clears her throat—she’s been clearing her throat all day—and begins to say something, but I stop her. “I love your bracelet. I haven’t seen it before.” I regret blurting it out. I wish I had commented on it earlier rather than now, but I should be committed at this point. “Is it new?”
“Oh, thanks!” She peers down at the bracelet on her wrist, and takes it off. Placed in her other hand, the bracelet looks homemade—like if you stretch it, it’ll cover the floor with rainbow beads. Yet, it has this… charm to it. Like an honesty I hadn’t seen in a while. “I made it for…” Emily loses her thought, “gosh, I can’t remember why.”
“It looks nice.” My voice cracks, and I avert my eyes so she can’t see my welling up.
“Sofia, can I give it to you? As a present for… for whatever.” Before I can say anything, she places it in my palm and closes my hand to a fist. “I’m sure you’ll take care of it.” My throat goes dry, so I just nod as a thank you. She crosses the basement once again. Though I’m sure there’s no swaying her this time. “Now, I’m gonna go make snickerdoodles.”
Chloe’s eyes light up. “My favorite,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, just as a treat for us!” But Emily hates snickerdoodles.
My voice works. “Why?”
The steps creak, just loud enough for us to hear her. But she stops halfway up. “Just because.” Then she reaches the top and the door slams behind her. And now, the clock feels like a countdown. Going three, two…
There’s one thing I’m certain of. It wasn’t ‘just because.’ It’s because, tomorrow, the moving trucks will show up at the crack of dawn, and her mother and father will move boxes until their house, and basement, is cleared out. I’ll wake up to commotion, but Chloe will stay asleep halfway across town. Stumbling to the lawn in pajamas, I will see Emily sitting on her porch holding a ziplock bag with snickerdoodles labeled ‘Chloe.’ Without a word, I’ll take the bag, and hug Emily. Hug her until the truck honks, and she has to let go. And as she drives away, I’ll wave, and flinch as the bracelet falls down my wrist.