Jessica Sankiewicz: If Only We

How can I be graduating…again?

I rub my eyes and open them again, hoping it was all in my imagination. No such luck. It is still there. This doesn’t make any sense. Where is my suitcase? It’s not on top of my dresser anymore. I left it there when I got back since I didn’t have enough time to unpack. Where did it go?

Opening my closet door, I spot it on the top shelf. Did my mom unpack it for me? Where are the clothes? There is nothing in the hamper and a quick rummage through my dresser finds some of those shirts clean and folded where they belong. How could…? Mom was at work all day yesterday. Not only that, but I saw the suitcase right before I turned the lights out last night.

My head is starting to pound with all the conflicting information I'm taking in. Sitting down in my desk chair, I put my head in my hands and start to rub my temples. I need to find something that isn’t out of place. My desk appears to be the same as I left it. Pens and pencils neatly placed in holder, check. Pile of loose-leaf college-ruled paper on top of a pile of used notebooks, check. Word-of-the-Day calendar off to the side, check. Calendar set to the correct date…what…? I reach out and grab it. That can’t be right.

Saturday, June second.

It feels as though I can’t blink. I worry that if I do, the date on this page will disappear. I know for a fact that I peeled off every page I hadn’t removed all summer before I went to bed last night. Each one was crumpled into a small ball and thrown away. I set the calendar down and drop to the floor to look through my trash. However, I can’t look through it because it's empty.

Nothing is making any sense.

I graduated already. This has already happened. Or did it? I dismiss that thought with a laugh. The most logical reason for what is happening is that I’m dreaming. I’m reliving this day in my mind because I spent the time while I was falling asleep thinking about it. Maybe my mind is playing a psychological trick on itself to right the wrongs and help me cope. Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe I’m just imagining all of this.

On the other hand, maybe I am just losing it.

But what if…what if this is really happening? What if I am reliving my whole summer? The prospect causes goose bumps to spread over my skin.

Have I been given a second chance?

This can’t be true. Second chances aren't possible. Not second chances of this nature anyway. Maybe a second chance at an audition. Not a second chance to relive a day in your past. People don't relive things in their life. And if that were even possible, why would we be allowed to know it was happening? Shouldn’t it just happen without the person knowing they are reliving a moment in time that has already happened once? All that needs to be done is hit the redo button and everyone has to start over.

And why me? Why would it be me out of all the people in the world? What possible reason would there be for just me to go back? Maybe, because of the disaster I caused, the universe is making me start over. Is it because everything I did wasn’t what was supposed to happen? It's a fact that I did not handle myself the way a person of sound mind would. I hurt the most important people in my life. But me? What happened the first time that wasn’t meant to take place?

What do I know? My mom was upset with me because I moved away and didn’t volunteer. Kaitlin started ignoring me because I abandoned her and didn’t marathon The O.C . Chevy didn’t want to see me anymore because I left without saying goodbye and didn’t call him back. I don’t see how these things justify repeating history, but who am I to argue with the universe?

What can I do? Well, I would definitely not live with my dad this summer. That alone takes care of half the problem. Volunteer at River’s Bend. Watch the entire series with Kaitlin. Keep in touch with Chevy. Seems simple enough.

A glance at the alarm clock causes me to realize time is getting away from me. If this is really happening and I want to leave on time, I need to be ready in less than an hour. I jump to my feet and get dressed. Slipping into my mauve dress again causes an odd fluttering in my chest, like a mix between excitement and panic. Ignoring it does me no good; the feeling refuses to go away. I manage to make myself look pretty for the public, including a little bit of a wave to my stick-straight hair. I slip on my white ballet flats, sling my purse over my shoulder, and pick up the cap and gown.

Mom is in the kitchen carrying a bowl full of freshly tossed salad to the table. Seeing her wearing the shiny blue shirt and black dress slacks again slams back the memory. Her glamour overshadowed by her fury.

When she sees me, she stops and gets this teary-eyed smile on her face. “You are so beautiful, do you know that?” I feel myself blush. It’s times like these I don’t see much. Usually she talks about things that need to be done, her expectations, hardly ever anything emotional. It feels nice, so much so that I find myself growing calmer. “I can’t believe you’re graduating already.”

“Already? It’s been eighteen years. That’s a long time,” I joke.

“Not when you’re a parent. Someday you’ll understand.”

Kaitlin comes bounding down the stairs and into the kitchen. She is wearing a white peasant top and a pale blue crinkled skirt. Her wavy blonde hair features a couple of side braids pinned in back. Seeing the ensemble triggers something in my mind. It was inspired by a character on The O.C . Now that I think about it, she probably wanted me to notice. Only I didn’t before. I don’t just tell her she looks nice this time. “Hey! You look like Marissa, only it looks better on you.”

Her face lights up as she slowly grins. That’s something I haven't seen in a very long time. “Thanks, Adrienne,” she says shyly. It is hard to imagine her in a good mood considering how she was yesterday.

Mom goes over to her purse and pulls out her camera. “You guys look so beautiful today! I need to take some pictures.” My mom always takes pictures of important moments. As she poses us by the fireplace, it feels strange to have her taking these pictures again. I remember looking at this set just a few days ago. Mom finally got around to mailing them to my dad so he could have copies of my graduation ceremony.

Maurice comes in the room in his short-sleeve button-down and khakis. When mom sees him she says, “Good, you’re ready. Could you take a picture with me and the girls?” She hands him the camera and fluffs her hair. “How do I look?”

“You look fine,” I assure her. “There’s a nice little bounce to your hair.”

“Good. Whenever my hair loses its volume I look older.”

We all smile as Maurice takes the picture. “I like you no matter what your hair looks like, dear.”

“Thank you, hon.” She takes the camera from him. “Okay, let's eat so we can get going. I want to get there as early as possible.”

After a quick lunch, we head out to the car, my heart pumping double time. This car is taking me to my school, where I am going for my graduation ceremony, and at this function, I will be seeing all of my classmates. Including Chevy. The boy who didn’t want me around. The boy who was the love of my life. Scratch that— is the love of my life.

And I may be able to have him back in my life.

The car ride almost felt like I was in a movie I’ve seen before. I could almost quote what was going to happen next. It kept the reality of what was happening firmly fixed in my mind. The only thing different was my extremely heightened nerves. My mind began to wander over the possibilities to the point where I felt like I was having a panic attack. Since when do I have panic attacks? What are you supposed to do for those? Hold on, is somebody talking?