I pause the anime and walk over to my desk. Inside one of the drawers are all the letters I’ve received from him, neatly folded and sorted in chronological order. I flop back onto my bed and read the earliest letter, which feels like forever ago.
The next one mentions why F can’t use email. I remember I told him my old email address, with the embarrassing name referencing hedgehogs and samurais. I haven’t checked it in forever.
I pause. Should I?
No. There’s no point getting my hopes up. F said he can’t communicate with technology.
Even though I remind myself of that, I reach for my phone, open the email app and type in my samurai and hedgehog's email address.
It takes me five minutes to input the correct password: SuperHedgehogSamurai. Real creative, Aaron.
As soon as the inbox loads, my eyes catch on the most recent email, and my heart jumps into my throat. It’s from [email protected]. The subject line is “Hi”.
Dear R,
I know this is out of the blue, and there's a chance you won't even see this. I don't know how often you use this email since you said that you made it a long time ago. And also, you wouldn't have been expecting anything from me. The thing is, I do want to talk to you, and I shouldn't let my mum stop me.
This is a bit humiliating to admit, but you've probably already figured it out anyway — I'm not particularly close to a lot of people, and I’m slightly worried that I’m going to spend these holidays feeling crushed by loneliness. I’m planning to prevent this as much as I can by keeping myself busy, but…it's nice to talk to someone who just gets you, you know what I mean?
I hope you do see this. Even if we can't see each other, it would be nice just to hear your voice. In the words you write, I mean. I can hear your voice saying the words when I read your letters. Although I guess it's not your real voice, it's more your whispery voice. I don't know what you really sound like.
Part of me is illogically worried that I’m coming across as clingy, but I’m mostly sure you won’t think that about me.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Love,
F.
The letter was sent last Friday. 7:44 pm. After school. Almost a week ago. Shit.
I scan the whole letter again, then click on the email address. The app takes me to F’s contact page, with the sole email he’s sent me. Under his name, “Ffromlockerr99” are three options: email, schedule and call.
Call?
I click that option, even though I’ve never used it before. I didn’t even know you could call emails. My phone starts to ring. And ring and ring and ring.
What am I doing? I should write a reply instead—
“Hello?” The voice is faint.
“F? F, is that you?”
“R?”
“I…” I swallow. “I only saw your email just then, like thirty seconds ago. That’s why I haven’t replied. I didn’t think you would actually write to me, and anyway, I decided to call you. I don’t even know why. I just saw it was an option, and I wanted to hear your voice and, oh yeah, is this a good time for you?”
He’s quiet for a second, then laughs. It’s soft, and I don’t know whether the connection is bad or whether he’s purposely keeping his voice low.
“It’s a good time,” he says. “And don’t worry.Iknew it was a long shot.”
“I don't know why I checked my email today of all days,” I say. “I was reading our letters, and I remembered that I sent you my old email address and I just…Anyway, how have you been?”
“Small talk again?” There’s a smile in his voice.
“I mean, you mentioned in your letter that you were worried about feeling crushed by loneliness.”
"Oh my god, don't repeat that," he says.
