I’d been in a weird place a year ago. My sister had a pregnancy scare and blamed it all on me. Like I made her jump on a guy in the bathroom at the school. Sorry, kiddo, that was all you. I’d had the talk and tried my best to be sex-positive. Making things taboo only made teens wanna do it more. At least that’s what the books I read said. When the tests all came back negative, I left the apartment and walked until the meltdown caught up with me. I could only do my best, but damn, it was hard. I’d felt like a nonstop beating of life’s shitty waves kept smacking me and smacking me, with no time to breathe.
I took a sip of my coffee as the little park bench that I sat on every Saturday came into view, and my gaze darted to the bushes behind it. The fluttering in my heart beat faster, and I bit my lip with a quickened walk. Claiming my spot on the bench, I set my drink and donut down, then climbed into the bushes.
A year ago, the bench had been older and broke when I sat down with a little more force in my emotional state. I’d tumbled feet over ass, and my head hit something metal in the bushes. A mailbox. It was an odd setting for such a thing, but I took it as a sign from the heavens. I needed to talk, to connect, to pour my heart out, and a mailbox showed up. I dug into my purse, grabbed a pen, ripped a page out of my planner, and wrote. I never signed the paper just in case someone stumbled upon it. They’d only read an unhinged releasing of thoughts from a stranger. Mailboxes were that meeting place of connections. Mail and letters brought people together. It was the first form of long-distance connection before our phones made it easy. Something about the act of writing my feelings, putting them in the box, and walking away made me feel free.
The next time I came to the park, I decided to take back my paper because it felt too personal; however, it wasn’t there. Instead, there was a note from someone else, which freaked me out. There was a scribbled heart and stick figure hugging another, and the wordsIt’s gonna be ok, this world needs youunderneath. Thus, a weird anonymous pen pal situation was born.
My fingers quickly dove into the box and pulled out a folded paper. I smiled and waited until sitting on the bench to open it.
E.
I’m sorry your week was rough. Losing patients must suck. Did you get your coffee and donut to feel better? Maybe soak in the bath or re-dye your hair?
My day was shit, and I hate that pink isn’t my color or I’d stress dye too. Anyways. Hopefully, this weekend goes great and your errands are effortless. We can’t let the world break us. Who else would tell such corny jokes to their patients? I mean… “Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.” You must have a pun book or something to come up with that. It’s embarrassing.
Until Next Time.
Your friend,
V.
“Oh, V.” I laughed and placed the paper against my chest. This anonymous person had become someone I relied on, and I didn’t even know his full name. I’d thought about asking V out for coffee sometime, but every time I tried writing it, I chickened out. V was married, and while his marriage was shit, I wasn’t sure I could be around him without wanting more than friendship. I wasn’t about to be a homewrecker. He was kind, funny, caring, smart, and just a genuine person. Then there was everything I’d shared in our back and forth. He knew more about me than anyone else, and that scared me. What if he wanted to use all that knowledge to take advantage? Instantly my brain said he wouldn’t. But the more intrusive side of me said he could, and could is still a scary possibility.
“Keeping it simple,” I murmured before taking a sip of coffee and digging for my journal and pen set.
“Dearest V.”
Chapter Three
Vincent
The wind brushed against my cheeks as I sat in the open field. I’d jumped through time to before Seahill was inhabited by any humans. It was quiet and peaceful. The sheer opposite of the loud horn-honking, people-cursing city it often was now. Still, I loved both. The mountains hadn’t changed in all the time, and I was grateful for that. Seahill kept their surrounding nature preserved. It was stunning now, and it would be that way beyond my lifetime.
With the birds and bug life carrying on around me, I reached into my pocket and pulled out E’s last letter. She’s been having a hard time, and I wished I could offer more besides my scribbled words. Shortly after we started talking, I stayed all day at the bench to meet her. But she must have slipped the note in after I left. If we were going to run into each other, it would have to be on purpose. Hence why it hadn’t happened.
Dearest V.
HAHA.
It’s a funny joke! You know you laughed!
I did take a bath but sadly didn’t touch up my hair. *Sad face*
But I’m sitting here on the bench, with my coffee and donut, and life is ok. My sister is a brat, but nothing new there. I’m just trying to focus on the good, and it’s helping. Like, this donut? Soooo good. I went with the maple bacon one. My ass won’t like me later, but who cares?
How’s everything going with you? It’s ok if you don’t wanna talk about it. I’ve just noticed you’ve been silent in that department. Not that I mind being the center of attention. LOL but I’m your friend, and I’m here if you need to vent. Just like you do for me.
Always your bestie,
E.
I had been quiet about my life lately. But what was I supposed to say? I’m a time traveling superhero who saves people and is miserable in his marriage? She knew about the marriage part and often called my wife a bitch. Which was true, and I didn’t need to defend her honor. Chasity relished the title, like it made her superior not to care about others.
This conversation always brought me back to the same question: Why do I stay with her? A therapist would have a fun day pinning all the reasons down. The answer was quite simple though. I didn’t feel like I deserved better. I once heard a quote that stuck with me since my teen years. “We accept the love we think we deserve.”
Chasity’s brand of bitch was familiar. I could shut my emotions off with her, and I didn’t have to be vulnerable. I tried in the beginning, but she had picked me out from a crowd as the sucker, and I fell for it. Being with someone like her was safe to my heart as opposed to E, a kind woman who rarely thought of herself. What if I took that chance and gave it all? I’d never recover if I wasn’t enough for her either. Chasity was awful, but she couldn’t hurt me if I never really let her in.
I hadn’t known what else to say to E, so I nicely stuffed the paper into my pocket and left the park. I debated going home, but instead, I went back to the Hero Society’s headquarters underneath Pizza Pazza, an Italian restaurant. I slept in the apartment I bought above the restaurant, then after two hours of training, I needed the quiet time.
