The Window

Eliza’s favorite things were the flowerbeds in the garden down below her bedroom window. Her various books and charts around her room were always open and filled with her own notes on her plants. Winter was her least favorite time of year because she couldn’t tend to her flowers. Thank god it was spring. Her rose bush should be blooming any day now. 

In the meantime, she occupied herself with her cello. She had been working her way through the third part of Dvorak’s Quartet No. 12, “Molto Vivace.” Something about the music told her that her life should be fun, which it was, but also wildly wasn’t. She gardened in solitude. She played the cello in solitude. She claimed to like it, but there’s a difference between liking something and being resigned to it. She was socially awkward, and didn’t interact with people. She didn’t think they would get her. Which was fine with her, honestly. But she always wondered what it would be like to have friends to go to the movies with on Friday nights, like normal people. Going out of her way for something like that scared her. The only out-of-the-way social interactions she had were conversations with Mrs. Park, her English teacher, about her latest literary interests.

The window had been open because her mother claimed she needed fresh air, but she couldn’t stand the noise outside. Eliza shut her window and lied down in her bed and closed her eyes. Sleep is for losers. She stood and approached the window. Hesitantly, she opened it and welcomed the noise from the neighbor’s house. It looked like a dumb high school party, where the “normal” kids went, whatever that meant. She had never been, and they all seemed so stupid to her in theory, but surely with all the people that were occupying that space, some of them were also weird. If the only weird one was just her, she would go unnoticed, like she usually had. 

She mentally kicked herself. Why was she even thinking about going? She wouldn’t do anything stupid, it would be absolutely harmless. She was just curious. She lifted her leg, and put it down. What if her mother found out she had left when she was supposed to be practicing her cello? She could be quiet, she thought. She lifted it again, and put it down again. She lifted it, and she stuck it out the window. Progress. She pulled her leg back in. This was the most tedious Hokey Pokey she’d ever done. Make up your goddamn mind. She swung her leg out the window again and climbed down the side of the house. She lost her footing on the lattice and took a hard fall on her rose bush. Sorry, roses.

The thorns from the bush stuck her in many places. She rubbed the back of her head. She hit it on some of the rocks beneath the bush. When she examined her hand, there was a little blood gracing her fingers. She rubbed it off on the bottom of the leg of her jeans. No one would notice. She got up, and began removing the thorns and sticks from the bush that stuck to her. She hiked up her jeans and made her way over the fence in her backyard and to her neighbor’s front door. She just walked in. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be there, she wouldn’t be noticed. There were too many people for anyone to pay attention to just her. She would be fine. She was just curious. What was all the fuss about anyway? Surely people would be doing stupid things. With their friends. She had none. She just wanted to see what it was like. She stood, surrounded by the strangers from her class and looked around. A girl she recognized from Mrs. Park’s class came up to her. She had blonde hair in a high ponytail. She thought her name was Ashley.

“Hi, welcome!” she said, as if she’d been expecting Eliza. She led Eliza into the den where more people were congregated in their own circles. “There’s pretzels on the table.”

“Oh, I’m allergic to gluten,” Eliza said. She didn’t have to say that. The odd look Ashley gave her told her that she was right. Eliza was weird. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“There’s a cheese board in the kitchen,” she said peppily.

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Eliza replied. Ashley looked at her weirdly again and walked off. That had gone as bad as Eliza had expected. She just wasn’t used to talking to people. Besides her parents and teachers that is. She didn’t know squat about how to talk to her peers. Rest of the night, she would just observe. Maybe take notes on her phone. Which she left on her bed next to her cello. Damn. Okay, she would just observe from the various corners of the house. Problem solving. Not that that was a problem, just a minor inconvenience. But Eliza really had no plans for how to experience this setting. So to call it an inconvenience was misleading. She had to shut her brain off before she thought herself into more of these holes. She observed the groups around the room and walked among them. She caught snippets of conversations.

“Yeah, I had no idea who she was—”

“—such a shame though.”

“I think she was in my English class last year?”

“She had brown hair.”

“This never happens to girls with blonde hair.”

Eliza wasn’t sure what to make of all this noise, but all the groups individually were discussing someone from school who’d just died. Eliza didn’t bother asking about her. She didn’t know anybody. It would be weird if someone that this group didn’t know asked a question like that, just to follow up with, “Oh, I don’t know who that is,” and awkwardly back away. But she was curious. It seemed everyone was talking about it. She doubted they would stop though, so she went into the kitchen. More people talking about this goddamn dead girl Eliza didn’t know. Then it stopped. And everyone was back to “normal” conversations, whatever that meant. The drama of the school week came up. Allison kissed Tommy even though she knew Sarah liked him, so Sarah hooked up with Allison’s ex, Joe, even though Joe and Kerry were going steady. Lisa said something mean about Rachel, so Rachel vandalized Lisa’s locker with ketchup and got suspended for a week. Katie punched Hannah and also got suspended, but Hannah was totally egging her on. Eliza could not relate. Perks of being lonely, she thought. In the hallway, someone waved her over. A girl with dirty blonde hair thrown into a messy bun. Eliza looked around. She wasn’t sure if the girl was summoning her or someone beside her. The girl pointed at her. Eliza went over.

“I’ve never seen you around at these things!” she shouted over the loud music and conversation. “I’m Mia!”

“Like from The Princess Diaries?!” Eliza replied.

“Like from homeroom!” Eliza felt her cheeks flush. Could she not say something stupid? Could she carry a normal conversation? At all?

“Eliza,” she replied.

“I know!” she shouted back. “Are you here by yourself?” Eliza nodded. “Wanna help me with something?” Eliza stayed silent. She was aghast. Someone who she didn’t know, but apparently knew her, wanted her help with something. Eliza was delighted to escape the loneliness and people watching. But at what cost? Would she end up drugged, or arrested, or dead in a ditch? Mia noticed Eliza’s discomfort. “Maybe that wasn’t the best way to start a conversation! Wanna talk?” Eliza nodded and the two made their way into the quiet home office next to the staircase.

“Are you sure we can be in here?”

“I practically lived here for the last decade, I can go anywhere in this house I want,” Mia said. Eliza stared at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Nancy and I were best friends.”

“Huh,” said Eliza, unsure of what else to say. She felt like there was something else to say, but it was like that feeling of something slipping your mind right after you think it, but she never had the thought to begin with.

“I mean, have you seen her with Patrick and Ashley and Harry this past month?”

“I can’t say I know who those people are,” Eliza said. She barely knew Nancy, her own neighbor. And she certainly didn’t know Patrick, Ashley, and Harry, and she didn’t care to.

“Nancy and I have been best friends since the second grade. We did everything together. And I liked that. All the sleepovers after soccer practice, all the karaoke nights, all the conversation,” Eliza wouldn’t know anything about that. “She got this boyfriend, and she said it wouldn’t change things, but it has. I haven’t been here in weeks, and it hurts. She blew me off last week, and we barely talk in school, and if we do, it’s all about Patrick and how he’s so dreamy, and so funny, and how cute the stupid lovenotes he gives her in class are. She showed me them. He totally stole the content off the internet. And 10 Things I Hate About You, which I would know because I watched it three weeks ago, and she was supposed to be there. But she wasn’t because she went to a stupid party like this with Patrick. Ugh, and now she’s hosting one! I’m sad, Eliza. I’m so lonely now, and I don’t know if I’m too dependent on my friends, or if I’m allowed to be this sad because of her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Eliza asked. “Me specifically. We’ve never spoken.”

“Because you’re cool. You get it. Right?”

“Well, not exactly. I don’t speak much to anyone, really,” she said. “You think I’m cool?”

“Well, yeah. I see you with your sketchbook in homeroom and I like what you draw,” Eliza’s cheeks flushed. “Also your shoes are cool. They feel perfect for you.” Eliza had the same red high tops for years. They were old and faded. Maybe it was like her soul after a lifetime of playing the cello and gardening in solitude. Eliza was shocked nonetheless. Mia had noticed her all this time, and thought she was cool.

“Why did you never say anything?”

“I was scared. I’ve been trying so hard to stay close to Nancy. And I was scared because I wouldn’t know what to say to you. And you were always by yourself, so maybe you liked it that way,” Mia said. “Do you?”

“I don’t know if I’ve just become resigned to it or if I genuinely like it. That’s kinda why I’m here,” Eliza admitted.

“Well, test the waters of socialization with me. I need your help. You won’t say anything and you seem much too eager to have this experience to ruin it by ratting us out,” Mia said. Eliza was startled. Mia was complicated. She’s so soft, and scared of losing people, and scared of gaining people. Yet she had a really bold streak hidden under the guise of anonymity. Maybe they weren’t so different. “I think pranks are fun, but Nancy always thought they were childish. Which they are, but it doesn’t dispute the fact that they’re fun.”

“Oh no,” Eliza started. The prospect of getting in trouble terrified her. But, out there, it was a sea of people, and she was generally unnoticed. Maybe she would be fine. Leave the comfort zone for once in your life. Even if it is a series of stupid pranks at a high school party to help a stranger get back at her ex best friend. Eliza was just thrilled Mia was focused on something else besides the girl that died.

“How much of the cheese was gone? You were in the kitchen, right?” Eliza nodded. Mia sent her back to get the cheeseboard and a knife, because “you won’t get noticed. And if you do, the social stakes are much lower for you.” Eliza thought Mia was a coward. If she wants to do these things, she’s gotta commit to the actions. She can’t just make someone her bitch. Nevertheless, Eliza did it. She was so out of shits to give. Her night was already so weird. Mia led them both upstairs where they crouched on the floor. Mia started spreading brie on the bottom of Nancy’s bedroom door. Then she went into her room and did the same thing to her closet door. And her bathroom door.

“Why?” Eliza asked. Mia pulled a post-it and sharpie out of her pocket.

“Because you really cheese me off,” she said and wrote. She stuck it on the mirror. Having it in her own handwriting was ownership. Eliza respected that. She wondered if this was satisfying for Mia at all. Eliza hated to think it, but it was thrilling.

Mia led them down two sets of stairs to a crowded basement. Eliza had never been around enough people to know she was claustrophobic. Her and Mia pushed through the crowd and watched the game of ping pong going on in the back. The basement smelled like sweat and mildew. Eliza shuddered. A few feet from the table, behind a group of jocks from school, there was a bucket of spare ping pong balls. Mia ducked and grabbed a few and shoved them up her sleeve. When the attention was on the game again, she stood next to Eliza. The object of their game was to get all the spare balls out of the bucket. They darted away to a corner of the basement to plot. Eliza had no idea what to do with all these ping pong balls. Mia went into the exercise room to the side of the basement and lifted a ceiling tile and placed a few there. Eliza hid one inside the rolled up yoga mat to the side. She wondered if this was how adults felt hiding eggs for an Easter egg hunt. They snuck back out and hid some in the pipes, in some decorative vases, and went upstairs and stuck a few in the freezer. Eliza wasn’t really sure about this prank. Mia wiggled the door of the china cabinet open, and dropped the rest of the ping pong balls in the classes and tea cups in the cabinet.

“Is there a punchline to this?”

“Yeah,” said Mia. “Inconvenience.”

“What’s our next move?” asked Eliza. This streak of slightly bad behavior was exciting purely because of how unfamiliar it was to her.

“I hadn’t thought of one. Maybe take a break for now, maybe I’ll think of something later,” she said. She was about to lead Eliza back into the crowded living room, but Eliza stopped.

“Can we go outside? I get claustrophobic in crowds,” said Eliza with certainty. They made their way to the backyard and sat on a hammock. “How do you feel?”

“No better,” said Mia. “But I don’t feel worse.”

“Do you love her?” Eliza asked. The question took Mia by surprise. She hesitated. She hesitated some more. She feared whatever words she said wouldn’t do justice to her feelings.

“She was my best friend, of course I love her,” said Mia.

“You seem jealous of Patrick.”

“I am jealous of Patrick,” she said. Mia thought this part was obvious. Maybe it was. Maybe Eliza was just dumb. Well, maybe not dumb. Maybe just missing something.

“Have you ever thought to spend time with them both?”

“I don’t wanna be a third wheel and just sit in silence while they swap spit all night. I’m not that sad.” Eliza considered this. 

“You think she misses you?”

“She doesn’t know how to show it,” Mia sighed. “I do love her. I’ve loved her since I met her, only I didn’t know I loved her like this. Is this what a broken heart feels like? How do I make it through this? Because my chest feels all tight, and I…I feel like I could die.” Die. 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been close enough to other people to know.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

Eliza wasn’t sure where to start. Was it the obsessive cello lessons her mother put her through? Was it all those side botany classes she took? Did the color of the flowers captivate her so much that she felt okay without other people? Was it the fear of getting so close to someone that the minute she got comfortable, they’d be ripped from her arms? Heartbreak?

“I didn’t talk a lot as a kid. I got anxiety. And my mom was worried about me not being able to express myself, so she got me a cello and I took lessons. She’s a little obsessive about me practicing now. She wants me to be able to play Carnegie Hall someday.”

“That’s impressive. Why aren’t you in orchestra at school?”

“I’m above that. God, and all the drama those people bring to the table. They’re all so annoying.”

Mia laughed. “How would you know if you’ve never interacted with them?”

“Because I still got eyes and ears. They don’t impress me.”

“I don’t think you mean that. I think you say you’re better than everyone else to justify why you’re so lonely. We’re not scary people. I’m not, I don’t think.”

“You might be right, but I’m still not joining orchestra.”

“Well, we’ve only got a year left, so there’s really nothing to lose,” Mia said. Eliza considered this. “What else do you do for fun?”

“Sometimes I doodle,” said Eliza.

“Everyone doodles.”

“You’re the one who noticed my sketchbook,” she said.

“I’d call that more than doodling,” said Mia. Eliza smiled. She wasn’t sure she’d admit it, but she loved the banter. She liked that Mia and her weren’t afraid of each other. She liked that it seemed literally impossible to weird Mia out. Eliza’s problems with friendships and meeting people is that in the beginning she was terribly awkward. She never knew what to say, but something someone else said would remind her of another thing which would remind her of another thing and she would just end up talking about the other another thing which ended up sounding irrelevant and weird. Her socializations usually never made it past this part. Having Mia around was refreshing. They didn’t need that awkward stage at the beginning. Eliza wished she’d met Mia sooner, but if she did, Mia might have been too wrapped up with Nancy to care.

“Are you gonna tell Nancy you love her?”

“What would be the point? I know she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Exactly, you got nothing to lose.”

“She’d never want to talk to me again,” said Mia. She passed it off as though she were scratching her eye but under the dull light of the moon, Eliza saw she was wiping a tear.

“At least you’d get some sense of closure instead of spending the rest of your life curious about it. And honestly, Nancy doesn’t impress me. You can do better,” Eliza said. Mia chuckled.

“Maybe,” she said. “Thanks. I’ve had enough fun for the night, if you can call it that. What do you usually do, besides the cello, and doodling?”

“I garden. I got a lot of flower bushes in my backyard,” Eliza said. Her gardening and tending to flowers was her greatest joy. Growing them gave her a sense of purpose. She liked that something needed her. “I’ll take you to see them. I live right next door.” Eliza didn’t give Mia a chance to respond. She was up in an instant, pulling Mia by the hand.

Eliza’s flower garden may not have been big, but every inch that was able held another bunch or bush of flowers. There were hanging flower pots, wind chimes, and the occasional garden gnomes decorating the plants and keeping them company when Eliza couldn’t. There were flowers of any and every color scattered. It seemed anything and everything had a home in Eliza’s garden. Mia had never seen something so beautiful her whole life.

“Those are my hydrangeas, and my violets, and everyone just uses marigolds to protect their vegetable garden, but I think they’re really pretty. My tulips are over there, and they’re almost done blooming. Back there are my roses, but they haven’t bloomed yet. I’ll show you them when they do.”

“They’re really pretty. You’re good at this,” Mia said.

“Thanks.”

“I’m kinda tired, I think I’m gonna drive home. But I had a lot of fun, Eliza. You’re pretty awesome. I’ll see you around in school?”

“Yeah,” said Eliza. “I’d like that.” Mia smiled and nodded, and hopped over the fence and left.

Eliza looked around. She laid down in the dent under her window, on her rose bush, with a smile on her face, uniting her body, soul, and delusions. There were pools of blood, bleeding into each other where the thorns had stuck her all down her side. She was adorning a crown of red around where her skull had been bashed in from the fall.

About the Author

Lauren Amariti is a senior English major/creative writing concentration, with a relentless enthusiasm for the works of William Shakespeare and a passion for creative writing. They fill their time writing poetry and fiction and contemplating what their cat could be thinking about.