A letter I never got to send, to a girl that once meant the world.
Seventh grade.
That was the year we met. Do you remember? I don’t think I remember the day we became friends, we just were. You, me, and Red. As if the first day of school we found each other and just latched on, all three of us so desperate for friends. I had been with these same kids since third grade and had no friends to show for it. You and Red were new students. I vaguely remember feeling like I needed to introduce myself to you guys before anyone else had a chance to tell you I wasn’t friend material.
You had two long braids and big round glasses. I’ll never forget that. You loved books and chocolate, in that order. You inhaled books, and at the time, I just didn’t understand. I do now though. I wish we could discuss books now. You would probably hate my books but you would read them anyway. You would rip them apart and I’m sure we would fight, but in the end, you would make me a better writer. I’m betting your fixing my grammar right now.
Do you remember when Red trimmed her hair and every time the wind blew, she had horns? We would laugh so hard. Or the time you guys all thought it would be a great idea to ride scooters down Blue Horse canyon and Matt ended up with two broken arms? I tried to tell you guys it was a bad idea, I wrecked my bike on that damn canyon once, took the top layers of skin off my arm. We spent so many weekends at Red’s house. Oh man, do you remember the fart bomb wars? HA! They smelled so bad! We would chuck those bitches like they were grenades and hope the boys didn’t see them before they exploded. Somehow, they always did and they would end up exploding on us.
How about the smiley face gumballs that one halloween? We found those in the gravel at Red’s house for years afterward. That halloween was so cold sleeping in the garage, everyone piled around Tony. And the stupid scary movies that you and Tony loved to watch just to fuck with me.
There were so many good times in the six years we were friends. Sure, we had fights, but we always figured it out and came back. I mean, I wouldn’t have found Laurel K Hamilton books without you. I probably wouldn’t be writing books now if you hadn’t of turned me onto books that sucked me. You were my book dealer, you and Red. You fed me paranormal sex infused goodness while Red passed me Nora Roberts.
Those last few months, before we stopped speaking, those were hard. We fought so much. Every time we talked, we would get into a fight. Every. Time. I was so angry with you and you with me. I know now that you were jealous, that you felt like I was leaving you and Red behind, but I was just trying to survive. I had to work to pay rent while going to school, I didn’t have much extra time and I definitely didn’t have the money for the gas to go out to see you guys. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry you guys weren’t as high of a priority as you deserved to be.
Once my anger passed, I looked for you. I hope you know that. I tried to find you on social media outlets. I looked often but never found you. I didn’t have a email address and frankly, I was too scared to called you. I was scared you hated me and I couldn’t face hearing it in your voice. I’m sorry for that too. I drove past the house you grew up in once, when I was back in town. Your grandparents had moved and I remember sitting in my car and just wishing I could give you a hug.
I want to know everything you’ve done over the last 15 years. Did you ever meet a man or woman who made your heart race? Did you fall in love and hope for marriage? Did you want to have kids? What made you decide to go to Oregon for school? What did you study? Did you have a job? Friends? What bands did you love? TV shows? What authors did you discover and fall in love with?
I’m so fucking proud of you for graduating from University of Oregon. It’s a huge accomplishment. I wish I could have been there to see you do it. I’m so sorry you’re life ended the way it did. I know first hand how terrifying it is to roll your car. I still see mine sometimes. I hope you weren’t in pain for long. I hope when you passed in your Grandma’s arms, you were at peace. Surrounded by the woman who loved you more than life itself, the woman who raised you. I hope you weren’t scared or hurting. Mostly, I hope that you’re up there watching over her, helping her find comfort after your passing.
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