Momentary Magic:

“We should tackle your room tonight,” Mackenzey unlocks my apartment door.

“I’m too tired to tackle my room today,” I drop my jacket over the back of a recliner. “Going back to school is absolutely exhausting.”

“Pick up your jacket, young lady,” Mack comes in behind me, hands over her hips.

I head off to my room, and my tanned leather jacket lifts up and follows me. I pull my book bag off and set it on my bed. The jacket falls beside it. I change into a Victoria’s Secret long-sleeved tee shirt and sweatpants.

“Where do you want me to put your magazines,” Mack calls from the living room.

“Are you cleaning again?” I call back. I pull my schoolbooks from my bag. I need Internet access to do my history work, so I grab the needed book and make my way over to my computer.

“Seriously, babe,” Mack appears in my doorway. “I can’t find your magazine rack.”

“That’s because I moved it in here.”

“Oh.” She finds it settled under the window by my bed and sets some magazines from the living room on it. “Are you sure you don’t want to clean your room today?”

“I’m sure,” I say as I pull Facebook up over the webpage.

“What are you doing?” she looks over to find me staring at the Facebook login screen. “Oh, you’re going to tackle that today.”

I nod slowly. I move my cursor to the sign in bars and login.

“Woah,” she breathes on my neck.

I have dozens of messages, hundreds of notifications, and one friend request.

“Is that Toby?” she gestures to the friend request.

I click it. Indeed it is. I accept it.

“Well, I’m going to dust your coffee table. You have fun flirting with Toby.” I flip her off, and she smacks my middle finger just before she bounces, giggling, back into my living room.

I pull up my notifications. Most of them are wall posts, so I move to my profile.

Hundreds of wall posts. I scroll through literally hundreds. Most of them are simple condolences and “sorry for your loss”es. Some of them are a bit longer, but still leave me with the same nasty feeling. But then I stop at one.

Mrs. Martinez, my clumsy, old math teacher left a note on my wall just the morning after prom. I think it’s a little inappropriate for a student to have her teachers of her friends list, but Mrs. Martinez requested me early last year, so I accepted. I read her message.

Brigitte, Brigitte, Brigitte. I can’t believe it was just last night that your parents chaperoned your prom. Your mom looked so gorgeous in sparkly red. Your dad just as debonair as always. When I saw them looking at each other, I didn’t think I could see another love so strong. Until I saw their gazes fall on you.

I choke a sob.

You were dancing with your brother, and the two of you were so happy together. Your parents looked so happy to be just that, your parents. It was the last time I saw the four of you so happy.

I am so sorry that this is happening to you. I thank the Lord as I type this that you still have your brother to take care of you. Stay strong, the two of you.

I cry hard as I type a reply.

Mrs. Martinez,

We haven’t been strong. We’ve been apart. And I haven’t been strong enough to get on Facebook until just now.

Thank you so much for your words, though. They are the only ones on here that really captured my attention.

My parents were so happy in that moment. My parents were always… so happy.

So, thank you.

After I hit enter, I drop my head to the desk and just sob.

The noise of Mack moving around in the living room stops for a moment. I can tell she’s thinking about coming to see me, but she probably believes I need my space. And I really do. She starts my vacuum cleaner up.

Several minutes later, a chime sounds on my computer.

I look up.

Toby messaged me.

Bridge. Brigitte.

I laugh. I type a reply.

Hi, knight in shining armor.

I wait a couple of minutes as the screen tells me he’s typing.

Knight in shining armor, huh? I think I like that.

I’m feeling a little flirty after my sobbing session.

I think I love it. I might have to call on you to save me again sometime.

Again, the screen tells me he’s typing almost instantly.

You plan on getting into a car accident again?

A sob starts fresh in my throat. I’m sure he didn’t mean to make a joke of my parents’ death, but after having just read such a sweet condolence from my teacher, the pain is new again in my heart. I’m about to get up to leave my desk when the page chimes again.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about that being so insensitive. I’ll save you from anything, not just from car wrecks. Brigitte, I’ll save you from this pain.

I close the Facebook page and turn my monitor off. I climb back on my bed. Crawling over to my pillows, dragging fistfuls of sheets with me, I pick up my book bag and dump it of its contents. The small bottle of fairy dust rolls across the bed.

I capture my prize and empty half of the powder on my palm. It doesn’t take me long at all to snort it up.

I curl into my pillows and sob, fresh.

“Brigitte,” my best friend comes softly into my room. She climbs up on the bed with me and pulls me into her arms. Her comfort is exactly what I need.