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Edina


At 11:00pm, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pushed past people asking if I was alright. I ignored the girl that asked if I needed a ride home. Struggling against the ache growing in my belly, I shut the bathroom door and locked it against the sounds of the party thumping on the other side. James’ house was old and in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for an underage Spring Break party, right?

I steadied myself on the edge of the bathroom sink and leaned in for a closer look at my face in the mirror. A deep stabbing feeling twisted in my stomach. I saw my pale and sweaty face contort in the reflection. For a second, the stomach pain made my vision swim.

With a loud and sudden crack, my vision was clear and I was taking in the view of the bathroom ceiling. I felt cold tile on my back, through my t-shirt. I think I must have passed out.

I shakily climbed up to look in the bathroom mirror. The previous pallor was gone, my face was dry. My stomach pain was gone. Besides the shakes, I was back to good. The ringing in my ears and the bump on the back of my head were all that was left of the crippling pain in my gut I felt just moments before.

Weird.

I opened the door to be greeted by just two familiar but concerned faces. The party people had apparently left just as abruptly as my ache. My lifelong friend James, with veins bulging, stood with a screwdriver in his fist. I pulled my eyes away from the unnerving sight of James clutching the flathead like a weapon. The only other body in the room belonged to James’ brother, Ryan.

Ryan started a word and stopped, and hesitated before finally asking, “Are you ok?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I glanced around the empty room and subconsciously rubbed my arms, as if cold. “Where is everyone? James, what’s with the screwdriver?”

Ryan let out a breath that sounded like he had let go of something heavy and simultaneously dropped to his knees, rubbing his face. “What the hell do you mean you are ‘fine’?”

I laughed, “What do YOU mean, what do I mean?” The circular statement hung nervously in the air.
"Man, you’ve been in there screaming about stomach pain for over a half hour, banging on the walls and shit." Ryan’s words were aggressive, but he just sounded weak and confused. "We couldn’t get the door unlocked. Not even with the key. We tried to kick it in. Everyone was scared… I think someone called the cops. J got the screwdriver to try and take the knob off. The lights flicked off and on in there about 800 times. When you went silent I thought you died. What the fuck are you on?"

Still standing in the bathroom doorway, I scoffed like this is a bad joke. I looked at the kitchen clock, and it read 11:37. The sound of a siren called out in the distance.

"Is this some elaborate prank, you fuckers? This isn’t funny. I’m not on anything." I was angry now. My voice was shaking.

"Man." Ryan repeated, and glanced at James nervously. "You kept screaming the name ‘Edina’. The fuck, dude. That’s our grandma’s name."

Stepping off the bathroom threshold, I shook my head. I didn’t get it, what was the punchline with the Grandma? I wasn’t feeling the prank.

James broke his silence for the first time since I opened the door, realization broke out on his face. His eyes were unfocused, his mind in thought. The screwdriver slipped from his hand with a clatter.

"You kept screaming our grandmother’s name… Grandpa died of stage four stomach cancer, here, ten years ago."

—
Credits to: Melskies

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