Ella B. Free (1)

Alden

If you'd known her as well as I did, you'd have no doubt she would never do something like that. But no one else knew her like me, so they insist we will never know for sure how it happened. Well, I may not know how it happened, but I know for sure she wasn't conscious when it happened or else she wouldn't have done it. She shouldn't have lived alone in the first place.

Her parents died when she was 13. Run over by a drunk driver downtown one Saturday evening. Ella was at our place. They notified my mother, since she was like a sister to Ella's mom. We all went to the hospital that night. I'll never forget Ella's face while she sat on that chair between the two beds, with one unconscious parent on one side and the other on the other. Less than 24 hours after they were brought in, they were gone. No 13-year-old should go through such a nightmare.

Ella took refuge in her homework. She never made many friends besides me. Never spoke much. Everybody pitied her and she didn’t like that, but she didn’t fight it, either. I don’t know anything about all the legal stuff that ensued her parents’ death, but my parents somehow managed to keep her. It was the only thing to do. She had no one else. So, anyway, I got to live with my best friend after what happened. We shared a room until she went off to college. And even after that we still talked on the phone every day. I’m telling you, I knew her better than anyone else. She would never ever think of doing something like that. I know. It just wasn’t in her nature. But then again... I only knew her when she was awake. Who knows what we are capable of in our dreams?

As far as I know, she started sleepwalking when I was 12. So she must have been 15. I remember the first night she did it. Scared the shit out of me, too. It must have been around 3 or 4 a. m. I was fast asleep and heard a loud noise. I opened my eyes and saw Ella on the desk, squatting, her hands under her armpits, like a hen. The loud noise that woke me up turned out to be a book she dropped on the floor. I only had time to shout "Oh, my God!" before dad came in and saw her too. He saw her eyes were closed and explained to me some people sleepwalk. Calmly, he spoke into her ear, took her arm and gently accompanied her back to her bed. I was worried she might do it again, so dad slept in an armchair with us that night. When we told her in the morning over breakfast, she was so embarrassed! But we all had a good laugh about it. Mom said even though it was funny they would go and see a doctor.

–What did the doctor say?, I asked her afterwards.

–Oh, you know, she asked me all those questions, like had it happened before? I said I don’t think so. Was I under any added pressure lately? I said not really. Any exams coming up? Not for another month or so. Taking any medicines? Nope. ‘Well then,’ she goes, ‘if it happens again, come back and we’ll see if we can give you anything, but for now it doesn’t seem like a big deal.’

–So I guess we’re all allowed to enjoy one wild night in a dream farm before we’re officially nuts, eh?, I laughed.

Two months ago, in July, I spent a week with her. We had an amazing time together. It was like when we were kids, except she worked in the morning. It was the best vacation since I went to Greece with my friends from college. She was positive and generous. She was kind of funny, in her own way, too. She was one of those people who won’t open up until you’ve spent some time together, but when she felt confident around someone and allowed herself to loosen up a bit she was genuinely fun to be around. And I knew I could always trust her with anything that troubled me. People like her are hard to find. But I won’t be the only one to miss her deeply.

When I arrived to her apartment that week, I was surprised to find her in the lobby of her building, casually chatting to the janitor, a bald, overweight forty-something-year-old man standing behind a counter. To be honest, I was surprised she should open up to a stranger so easily and I asked her about it on our way up in the elevator.

–So I see you’ve made friends around here?

–How do you mean?

–Well, the janitor seems nice.

–Oh, you mean Glen! Yes, he’s easy to talk to. But I don’t know anyone else in the building yet.

She said they always shared a couple of words whenever she left or entered the building. It turns out their humor was quite similar and Ella was happy to find someone who’d smile when he saw her. It was a nice change for her. I thought it seemed to be doing her good, so I left it be.

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