That said, I want you to know—I’m glad this isn’t your wedding. Not that I’m against marriage. The right marriage is a wonderful thing. Your mother is the perfect person for me. She’s going to drive me crazy for the rest of my life, and I’ll happily sit in the passenger seat, gazing up at the stars, while she takes a sharp left into absolute chaos. Love is funny like that. The right person will make the craziest thing seem completely normal.
Matt wasn’t that person for you.
I know it stings now, but I promise, you’ll find your person one day. And when you do, it’ll make all of this—the ridiculous wedding, the over-the-top family drama, the “why-did-I-ever-care-about-him” thoughts—seem like nothing more than a distant star that burned out long ago.
In the meantime, don’t forget to look up. When you feel lost, the stars will always be there. You are made of stardust, Dani. Every time you look up at that sky, remember that those lights twinkling back at you are your ancestors. They’ve been here for billions of years, watching, waiting, reminding you that you belong to something greater than whatever nonsense is happening on Earth right now.
And one last thing—don’t go wandering over to the north part of the compound. Remember, Old Man Morvain lives there. He’s not the friendliest, but he’s harmless. He came to the observatory at the same time that I moved there, but he’s a geologist and entirely uninterested in any rock not from this world. You know I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t like to talk about space.
Love you to the sky and back,
Dad
Liberty Vega
1473 Bellevue Avenue, Apt. 2B
Los Angeles, CA 90026
OM Fucking G, Dani,
Girl, I haven’t written a letter since fourth grade in Ms. Ruddell’s class. Remember when we got those pen pals? I had to actually leave my comfortable apartment and buy a stamp. But luckily they have stamped envelopes now. I got a couple for later, but as you can see, this letter is coming in a box because there is a surprise. But later for that.
Okay. First of all. BEBE. ACTUALLY. INVITED. YOU. TO. HER. WEDDING. TO. FUCKFACE!
Like what the actual, D? What in the delusional Disney villain nonsense is that? Did that skank actually think you’d for real go to her janky wedding? Like, yes, please, let me celebrate the union of my lying, cheating, community dick of an ex-boyfriend to my equally lying, cheating, social-climbing cousin. Are they going to let you give a toast, too? Something heartfelt, like: “Wow, Bebe, thanks for taking out my months-old trash. I was tired of him sticking around after I tossed him out. I hope this one doesn’t disappoint you in bed like he did me!”
Honestly, the joke is on her, because Matt is broke like a joke. Has a big dick but doesn’t know what to do with it. And not a brain cell in his head to have an original thought.
So, in summary, Bebe finally won, but all she got was an empty wallet, a disappointing sex life, and a man who’ll cheat on her the minute he finds someone new who’s dumb enough to trust him. She’s going to get everything coming her way.
Anyway, you’re a genius for taking a break from all this nonsense. My parents sold their cabin on the observatory when I was in college. But I remember our summers out there looking up at the stars.
Sometimes I miss all those natural twinkling lights, but I’m a city girl through and through. I also couldn’t handle all that silence. I’d much rather be around to watch our hometown’s worst power couple exchange vows while your mom and aunt have a passive-aggressive showdown in the middle of the reception. You best believe I RSVP’d for a front row seat in that shitshow. I would live text you if you turn your phone on.
Wait, did you even bring your phone with you?
D, please don’t go frontier girl. You can disconnect, but don’t disappear from society.
I don’t mind sending you letters. Did I tell you the guy at the post office was cute? I may or may not have flirted, and I may or may not now need a reason to send more mail. So if you get random postcards of farm animals, just go with it.
Now on to the reason for the package. Since you’re out in the middle of nowhere, I’m also including a little care package. Inside, you’ll find:
• Chocolate because I love you
• A battery-operated boyfriend (because let’s be honest, you’re not finding love at an observatory)
• Extra batteries because I’m the best
Have fun tonight. You’re welcome for the orgasms. Stay strong, stay sexy, and whatever you do—DO NOT RSVP TO THAT WEDDING.
Love you loads,
—Lib
From Orion Frosthelm
His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Orion of Frosthelm
