Her confidence stuck with me—the way she launched into speaking to an incarcerated prisoner without hesitation. It made me hate her directness while wondering how many other men had gotten her attention like this—and then that pissed me off for different reasons.
Then, there’s her age.Twenty-four.Her innocence seeps from the pages. Fuck, she literally has no idea who’s on the receiving end of her letter.
I set that one to the side and pick up the others. Her second answered everything my first reply and introduction probed about.
Happy October!
You’re a funny guy in real life, aren’t you?
I’ll keep the apparent lack of ability to offend in mind. I’m glad the last letter made you smile, and I’m not nervous. Okay, maybe I was a little bit, but once your letter came, even before reading it, I felt better. Guess the anxiety was more about if you’d reply or if I wrote to a stranger for nothing.
Would it be mean to ask if the prison does anything for Halloween? I hope they do. It’s a pretty fantastic holiday.
You asked why my cat’s name is Millie. She’s named after my late grandmother, who was blind in the years prior to her passing. When I adopted Millie, being one-eyed, it felt appropriate to honour her.
You asked why a florist. Whynota florist? I gardened a lot with my mom growing up and loved it. Besides, I’m also doing my master’s degree in psychology, and it’s an easy part-time job to pay the bills.
You asked why Ottawa. It’s where I was born and raised. You’re only a few hours away. (I researched the prison before sending the first letter.)
And you asked why green. Maybe it goes along with my gardening hobby. Can’t give a better answer. Something about the boldness of it makes me cheerful.
Can I ask what your days look like? I’m very curious because the program staff didn’t give much information.
Cheers,
Aspen
I realized after that one, she could ask me why I got locked up and I’d give her truth, if only for her reply. Her curiosity, her directness—I adore it all.
My thumb brushes over some of her details. Ottawa, born and raised. I, too, was born and raised in Ottawa. To think, I’d been living my entire life within the same city as my growing fascination.
I began designing images of her when penning my response, answering her questions about my days without providing extra information. I’d rather learn about her than write about myself. Admitting what my days are like when hers are probably replete with entertainment, friends, and an actual purpose burned my chest, but someone askingabout memade it a bit better. So, I sent the letter off and paced my cell for the couple weeks it took for her reply to get delivered.
Cade,
Happy November! It’s freezing out, and I’m not a fan. I’m sorry your days are so repetitious, but hopefully, these letters provide some comfort. I hope you’re not bullshitting me by claiming they do.
You’re very curious, but to answer your question as to why psych, the mind has always fascinated me. People’s reasons for doing and saying the things they do all stem from somewhere, and I like learning what that is.
As for my favourite flower: that’d be a calla lily. Do you have a favourite flower?
What did you used to do for fun?
When you’re out, what’s the first thing you want to do? (Is that bad to ask? You did sayanything!)
What’s your favourite colour?
Which kind of candy/chocolate do you enjoy?
You mentioned reading a lot. Anything interesting I might know? Admittingly, I’m not much of a reader, but please, talk away. Tell me about your favourite book, and I promise totryto read every word of it.
Your pen pal,
Aspen
She hooked me with that one. Her little probes revealed she genuinely cares. Her energy pours from her words, and I picture her bent over a table, furiously scribbling on the paper.
I wonder what her professors would label me as if they knew precisely what her letters have changed within this six-by-six-foot cell.
