I’m very curious because for the first time in a long time, I have the energy to care for something or someone. YOU make me want to know more. Make me remember there is a life outside these four walls. Your eagerness in your letters is exhilarating. I don’t think I’ve smiled more than when I read them.
Calla lilies are beautiful. No, I do not have a favourite flower.
You don’t want to know what I used to do for fun. It might scare some of that sparkling innocence out of you, and we can’t have that.
When I’m out…I don’t know. The answer seems to change year after year. One thing that does remain, though, is being able to ride a bike again. The motorcycle/motorbike variety, not the bicycle. Just to make that clear.
My favourite colour is red. A dark, deep red.
I don’t eat much candy, but anything caramel-filled usually gets me.
My favourite book is 1984 by George Orwell. Basic, maybe, but it’s a dystopian novel that looks at totalitarianism, governmental surveillance, censorship, and repression of society—both peopleand how they act. Fictional, but designed around Nazi Germany. Orwell was a huge critic of Stalinism (rightly so), and wrote the book to make a statement. Then again, isn’t that what all books should do? They make statements, no matter the genre. Fantasy distracts readers from real-world issues. Dystopia hints at real-life possibilities if the wrong people were in charge. Romance speaks to desires. Sci-fi lets the reader explore. No genre is better than another, though I do have my preferences.
Hopefully that answered well enough.
I have one more question for you, and I hope it’s one you’ll entertain because Aspen…I’m fucking dying to know what you look like.
Can I get a picture?
Cade.
This letter wasgoldfor my research. His need for friendship seeps from that very first paragraph—his compliments, but underlying them, the fact that a faceless person who could very well be a complete lie has become someone he trusts. My name and everything I’ve written to him could be a lie, and he’d never know better.
His request for a picture was a warning received in the program’s welcome brochure. In truth, a few red flags went up over it.
But then they changed to yellow, because it’s only natural for pen pals to get curious about one another after speaking about their lives. I’d be lying if I claimed I’m not excited for today—to finally fill in my mentally constructed image of Cade.
Aspen,
Merry Christmas, and I hope you have the greatest day ever. Christmas isn’t much around here, but your letters are all the gifts I need.
Did you attempt to read the book? It’s hard for most to get into, and if you’re a non-reader, it may be harder. Don’t stress yourself out attempting. It’s not worth it.
Intriguing dream. I honestly can’t recall the last dream I had. Tell me, future psychologist, what should I do about that?
Consider the photo request, but don’t feel pressured. I shouldn’t have asked, and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe forget it entirely.
Cade.
The fact that he clawed back his request may be psychological warfare and nothing more, yet it didn’t stop my stomach from twisting in guilt. So I reached out to the prison with a few of my own questions.
If Cade is likethisin letters, how would he be in person? So much valuable information could be gained for my research if I took that step. And so, I did.
I offered to come in person, which brings me to now: when I’m rereading letters I’ve read countless times as a way to avoid leaving. Any courage I’ve built in preparation of this visit faded the second I woke up this morning.
His final letter, delivered mere days ago, is the shortest he’s ever sent, but I suppose he’s said all he needed to and is saving the rest for today.
Aspen,
I’ll see you soon.
C.
His agreement should be positive. Instead, it’s a question mark.
My entire goal of joining the program was to glean a sense of his mental state while being a source of entertainment and kindness—something he probably doesn’t get a whole lot of in there.
I never intended toseehim in person…but it’s for my studies—not my curiosity. That’s what I tell myself. I’mnotcurious what he looks like—even if I definitely am and have imagined it many times.
