“I don’t know if the timing is still as bad as it was weeks ago, or even years ago, for that matter, but when and if you are ready, I would like to spend more time with you. I want you to catch me up on everything I’ve missed, every part of who you are now, what has changed, what hasn’t. I want to know if you still giggle when you’re embarrassed, and if you can still make up elaborate, fictional stories like the ones you used to entertain me with. I remember the words would spill from your mouth as if you were reading them out of a book, but it was your mind—always filled with beautiful thoughts. It was like you were daydreaming out loud, allowing me to be a part of those moments. Do you still like to write? Do you still like to read? What about Pop Rocks, are they still your favorite candy? I want to know, Mel. I want to know everything”
Melody presses her lips together as they quiver while still holding onto a smile, but her eyes fill with tears of joy and wonder. “Brett, you remember all of that?”
“I remember all of the different parts that make you, you. I wanted to be like you, be around you, just so I could be unconditionally happy and able to laugh at my own jokes. You’re one of a kind. It’s what makes you special. It’s what makes you the person I want to spend all my time with.”
“It’s all I wanted then, and it’s all I want now. I would have asked for more back then if you could have given it, but I knew our paths were destined to go in different directions and I didn’t want to stand in your way,” she says.
“I felt the same. That’s why I wrote those letters. I knew they were a long-shot, but I felt like it was the only way to keep our connection alive.” I know she never responded to my letters and over the years, I thought of every possible reason why she didn’t, but it doesn’t matter any more.
Melody shakes her head with a look of confusion.“Wait, Brett. Stop. What letters are you talking about? I never got a letter from you.”
21
Nine-Ten Years Ago
I wonderhow many people regret enlisting in the military on the first day of bootcamp? Not that I didn’t do my research ahead of time, but these first couple of weeks are a far cry from what I was expecting. I train, run more miles than I can count, do everything I can to get into shape and I still feel like the scrawniest son of a bitch here. The first thing to go was my hair—my secret pride and joy. Now, I look like everyone else, except for the scrawny part. There isn’t a minute during the day when we aren’t in a routine, pushing ourselves to unthinkable limits. My mind has given up a million times, but for some reason my body is still going. It’s been six weeks, and we’re allowed some free time to write home today. I’m writing two letters, one to Mom and Pops, and the other to Melody. The one to my parents is simple; I’m healthy, fine, and will survive the next seven weeks. Can’t wait to see you.
For Melody, it’s different because it’s not the first letter I’ve written to her, but it will be the first one I send. I’ve composed five total, but the other four are under my mattress because the time between when I kissed her, and now, has been too long. It has been three months to be exact. She probably forgot all about that night or tried to after I didn’t call her. I was training daily and knew I didn’t have much time left before I had to leave. It would have been harder if I had tried to stay in contact, but I can only imagine what she’s been thinking.
I’m going to send this letter so at least she’ll know I didn’t walk away like an asshole and forget about her.
Hi Melody,
I know it’s been a while and you probably weren’t expecting to hear from me, but I’m here at boot camp, and wanted to apologize for this letter taking so long to get to you. Things have been hectic, leaving me little time for anything other than training. But, while I have had zero time to think, I spend a lot of nights staring at the metal rods of the bunk above mine. I was figuring you must think I’m a jerk for the way things went down that night at the party. I never called or tried to get in contact with you even though I was the one who initiated the kiss. I want you to know that I think about you a lot, and if I didn’t tell you that night, I have been crushing on you since I was fourteen, but I never wanted to push you. You seemed uneasy around me, and I didn’t want to be the cause of your discomfort. Hearing how you felt that night, though, it took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to say what you did. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to speak to me that night, or ever again.
I didn’t have much time to think, having to prepare for boot camp and the end of my senior year, so the timing was awful. I knew both of us would get hurt if I reached out. I would have fallen even harder for you. It would have made my move so challenging. It turns out, once a guy signs papers to enlist in the military, it’s final.
I have about seven weeks left before I graduate and I’m trying my best not to croak, but it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I’m not sure being a Marine is for me.
Anyway, I want you to know that I think about you all the time, that night and all the good times we had together growing up. I wish things had worked out differently, but hey, it’s only four years for each of us, mine in the Marines and yours in college, and then who knows … maybe we’ll find each other again, right?
Or, we could be pen pals, as lame as that sounds. You could come to my graduation if you want and then we could spend a little time together before I move onto base this summer. The return address on the envelope is the best way to reach me. I don’t want you to feel obligated to contact me, but if you want to, I’d love to hear back from you. I hope you’re doing well, and as crazy as it sounds, since it’s been so long; I miss you. I miss my friend. I miss the girl I grew up with who had me laughing my butt off at the silliest things. Maybe we’ll get that back someday. I’m not giving up hope.
Take care, Mel.
Sending you a big hug!
—Brett
And then Brett Pearson grows a pair, sticks a stamp on the damn thing and drops it in the outgoing mail bin, or that’s what I tell myself.
“Dad,” Parker says from the back seat as we sit in the parent looping drop-off line.
“Parker,” I respond, sounding more dad-like than I recall sounding before today.
“I think you're in love,” Parker continues, kicking her feet to the side of her booster seat.
“Um, is there a logical reason for this?” I ask, wondering what she could be picking up on.
“You were in such a good mood last night, and the last time you were in a good mood like that was when we saw Melody at her house for dinner that night. Remember?”
“Parker—”
“Dad,” she mocks me.
“Melody is going through a lot right now.”
“Yes, that’s true, but also, Melody is like a princess stuck up in a tower, waiting for her prince to rescue her. I hope her prince shows up soon and rescues her,” she giggles.What the hell has she been watching? Disney gone wild? “Parker, that’s enough. I don’t know where you’re coming up with this stuff, but you’re talking about things you know nothing about.”
