Brendan sighed as he walked down the street; he wiped at his sweaty forehead, his brown hair plastered to it. He checked the time on his phone: 4:30. Basketball practice ran late and he was feeling the strain from the stitch in his side to the soreness in his legs. It was hard work but he loved it with all that he was and that made up for it, according to him. After walking for nearly 20 minutes, he finally reached the post office. He ducked inside to collect the mail from the box, relishing in the cool air.
While walking towards his house, he shuffled through the mail. Bill after bill, like he thought. He paused near the end of the stack however; there was an envelope addressed to him. In messy cursive read his name and address. There was no return address, which added to his confusion. Why send a letter if you aren’t going to add the return address?
Sliding his finger under the fold, he opened it and pulled out a folded sheet of notebook paper. A waft of something sweet came with it and he lifted the folded letter to his face, inhaling. Vanilla, he was sure of it. Unfolding it, he realized that the entire page was full of the same handwriting, this time in print. The writing was small and deliberate, like the writer had taken their time to painstakingly make each letter as neat as possible.
Dear Brendan,
I know that I’m risking you getting in trouble by sending this; If either of us are caught, either me writing this or you receiving it, we’ll both be in serious trouble by our families. I’m so sorry for what’s happened. You deserve none of this and I wish you’d never met me. You wouldn’t be in so much pain if you had never met me. Yet, I’m so thankful to have met such a beautiful creature as you; you filled my world with sunshine and warmth. I want you to know that I love you. I will love you until I’m old and gray. I will love you until the day I die and even beyond that. I love you with all that I am and you’ll always have my heart. Take care of it. Please.
Don’t try to contact me. Neither of us can risk it, my love. Just know that you’re always in my heart and someday, we’ll be together again. I’ll be in your arms again and we’ll have our whole lives together like I promised.
Yours always…
As he finished reading, he became aware of the tears streaming down his face. Swiping them away, he slipped the letter back into the envelope and carefully hid it in his bag where it wouldn’t be found. Entering the house, he heard the booming sound of his father’s voice.
“I got the mail for you,” he tried to make his voice sound casual, but it sounded shaky to him. He handed his dad the mail and quickly walked to his bedroom, desperate to reread the letter again. Desperate to smell her perfume again. His throat was tight, as if it was filled with cotton, and his eyes prickled with unshed tears.
He retrieved the letter from his bag and read it again. And again. And again. He read it until he was certain he could recite it word for word. Don’t try to contact me. The words stung but he knew there was no ill-will intended with them. He walked to his closet and pulled a brown cardboard box from the top shelf. Opening it up, he looked at the black hat with the word ‘Beast’ on it, matching her ‘Beauty’, he looked at the photo album that was filled with quotes that she’d written for his dark days when he needed something to reassure him that he was enough, he looked at the many letters she wrote him that detailed her feelings so eloquently, and he looked at the turtle keychain that she’d bought on a whim because she knew he’d love it. His heart shattered more and more every time he looked at those contents of the box, yet he couldn’t stop looking at it. He gently added the letter to the box, making sure it wouldn’t be crumpled or bent. He knew he’d pull it out when he was desperate to be near her, desperate to smell her vanilla perfume.
He returned the box to the back of the shelf in the closet and his feet carried him to his bag. He fished out a sheaf of loose-leaf paper and a pen; he’d admit that he wasn’t the best at writing out his feelings but for her, he’d try.
My love,
Don’t worry about me getting in trouble, that doesn’t matter. There’s no need to apologize for anything, it isn’t your fault. You won’t get this until when we can see each other again, whenever that is, but I need to write this down so it’s off my chest.
I love you so much. You make me so happy and it kills me to not be able to talk to you. I hope that you’re safe and trying to be happy, I know you can do it. You’re strong and you can make it. Do me a favor and smile more. I love when you smile so big that I can see the gap in your teeth and the dimples in your cheeks.
I have your heart and I hope that I always do. You have my heart too and it’s yours to keep. I know you’ll keep it safe, you always promised to love me with all of you.
I love you…
Brendan
Folding the paper up, he placed it in a plain envelope, addressed it to her, and added it to the ever-growing stack in the bottom of his closet. He’d written her a letter once a week for the last two months and bundled them up with a string. He hoped to God that he’d be able to give them to her in person someday. He prayed every night to see her smiling face again. It was only a matter of time…