It was embarrassing, but it brought me life. Maybe that’s what we both need to do— fart more.
Xo,
Hales
SEPTEMBER, 2028
Dear Asher:
Did my fart spook you? It did, didn’t it? I realized it after weeks of not getting another letter. I know you’re only twenty-three, and you might think girls are all glitter and spice, but I’ll let you in on a secret: everyone farts.
Everybody poops too.
Most women bleed through their vagina.
And I’m done being weird now.
I’m writing this tipsy.
Tipsy and alone.
This was another month of me being everyone’s mom. Livie’s confidant and pillow to cry on. My mother’s medical jargon translator. The best maid of honor a girl could ask for, driving around town for hours until Nicole found her favorite dress. She looks stunning, and she will be a beautiful bride soon. I got promoted at work. Yay, right? Wrong! It comes with more responsibilities, and now, I’m mentoring new nurses. They’re so sweet and innocent and full of light, and I just don’t have any inme to give them anymore. I feel like I’m tainting them with my perspective, and that makes me feel even worse.
That’s my recap. I sound absolutely insufferable, and I might understand if you just want our friendship to end.
I do need to know before I buy tickets for the gala this year: are you still interested in coming along, or did you find a woman to love?
Let me know either way,
Xo,
Hales
OCTOBER, 2028
Dear Hailey,
I’m sorry I disappeared. In April, there was a vessel that went down at the end of the season when we thought we wouldn’t have to worry about large crews out there. We were wrong. We were out for days, and we lost many of them. I know it’s not necessarily the news you were hoping for, but that’s why I stopped writing. I didn’t know how hard it would hit me to fail miserably at a mission like that.
I’m in a better headspace now, so I’m writing back. You could never spook me with farts or anything else—actually, that made me laugh out loud. Thank you for that. I needed it. Sorry if you thought I was avoiding you. It was more that I didn’t have anything to give those months, so I just didn’t reach out. I almost called you, though. I just wanted to hear your voice, but I had nothing to say. I don’t think I ever gave you my number, so here it is: 907-859-7412. Just for emergencies, though. I still want my letters.
I’m still planning on going to the gala. I have leave for a few extra days, so I will be around after, if you’d like to hang out forlonger. Either way is fine by me. And if you’ve found a date, that’s okay too.
Are you celebrating Halloween? If so, what are you dressing up as?
How about another joke?
Why wouldn’t the ghost dance at the party?
Think about it.
No peeking.
Really, I should just not tell you.
See you in a couple months.
With kindness,
