Exercise in Creativity

The sound of Final Fantasy battle music wakes Kate from her sleep. She knows the ring, but she can’t remember why. The music finishes by the time she fishes her phone out of her crumpled Express jeans. The soft glow of the display feels harsh so late at night. The phone beeps twice as Kate checks the call log: Peter Taylor.

“You’re fidgety, Kate” Peter says to her as they lay in the bed of his 93’ red Chevy.

“No… I’m just full of energy,” she whispers back, the quiet tone matching the soft look of her blue eyes.

“How long have I known you? Tell me the truth.”

Kate lifts her head to look in his eyes.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“Tomorrow.” His voice is a smile. “While you move into your dorm room in Lincoln, I’ll be crossing the Rockies.” He pushes up to his elbows. “I’m going to the ocean Kate. You know school isn’t for me.”

Pete raises the camera to his eye. “Put that thing away, Pete. I don’t want to remember this.” “What are you going to do once you get there? You can’t run…”

“I’ll take a picture. Then, if that isn’t enough, I’ll find something else to take a picture of.” Pete falls back on his back. “Now, watch the stars Kate. We don’t want to spoil their night.”

Kate’s smile fades as she thinks of what trouble Pete could have gotten himself into. She leaves the room to check the voicemail. She doesn’t want to wake Leanne.

“Hey Kate, it’s Pete. I’m sorry it’s so late, but it’s kinda funny because by the time you get this it’ll be too late. I know you’re the save the day type, Kate, but I’ve got nothing left.” Kate’s breathing fills the silence Pete took to gather himself. “Remember that night last summer? Well, I finally made it to the ocean. I took a picture, but you were right. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t have anything to do now. I’m sorry Kate.”

The voice on the phone informs Kate that the voicemail is over. She is breathing deeply as she pushes one to replay the message. The daze Kate feels moves her to her desk to find the picture of her that night. There’s a post-it on a package there. This came in for you, Leanne. It’s Pete’s camera. Kate turns in on and clicks through every picture Pete took of the last year, starting from the one of them packing her car for school. Her hand trembles as she gets to the last frame. It’s a picture of a dancer at sunset. The blood red of the sun is reaching out to silhouette her attitude in arabesque while she stands waste deep in the waves. Kate flips back to see the girl in picture after picture. She stares at the shots. As she twirls the loose hair he pony tail couldn’t contain, she decides she has to go. Kate opens her top draw and pulls out a sheet of loose leaf.

Dear Leanne,

I’m leaving. I have to find a friend.

I hope you can find a new roommate.

Love,

Kate

p.s. if you can’t ship my stuff home, keep it