Page 42 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

During lunch, my mood was so good that I actually interacted with all of my friends. Not just Jules. Even though Daniel and Aubrey were constantly taunting each other and Elijah and Liam were telling stupid jokes, I didn’t merely keep my head down and eat. Mrs. Hopkins glared at our table more than a handful of times, but even I was unbothered by it. Sometimes you gotta let kids have fun, especially if they’re not hurting anyone, right?

Jules and I made our way to English after lunch, like we always did. And that’s where my day got even better. Jules and I were the first in class in our seats. When Chris came in a few minutes later, he actually stole a glance at me. He didn’t smile or wave or indicate that he thought we should actually speak, but it was major progress. I couldn’t keep myself from smiling.

Ms. Tabatabai was clearing her desk of her lunch when everyone was settling into their seats and getting ready for class. When she grabbed her ever-present cup of coffee and stepped up to the podium, she didn’t have to demand silence like usual. Everyone automatically ceasing conversations and noise to pay attention indicated to me that we were all doing better on our projects.

“So,” Ms. Tabatabai asked, “how are the projects going?”

Thirty students all enthusiastically indicated that things were going well. Connor Payne let out a “whoop” that was a little too enthusiastic, then turned his head to wink at Jules. She returned his wink with a glare that she didn’t quite fully commit to.

What was that about?

“Good, good,” Ms. Tabatabai smiled at us. “I’m glad we’re finally on track.”

Everyone groaned comically.

Ms. Tabatabai chuckled and leaned her forearms on the podium.

“So,” she said, silencing the room, “we talked about our behaviors telling the world who we are, yes?”

More rounds of agreement from the class.

“Once someone lets you know who they are, and you’ve let them know who you are, how do you let them know that who they are and who you are is a match?” she asked. “That you’re interested in a relationship?”

“Like, dating and stuff?” Connor asked.

“Any relationship,” Ms. Tabatabai replied. “Friendship even?”

Murmurs went off around the room, but no one spoke up to actually answer our teacher’s question.

“Okay.” She silenced us. “Our behaviors are our love letters. Letting people know who we are so we can feel seen. Find a connection. Once we realize that a person has seen us and there is a chance of a connection, how do we actually connect?

“Without words?” Jules asked.

“Preferably,” Ms. Tabatabai nodded. “We’re not all brave and willing to just put ourselves out there. Rejection strikes fear in the most courageous of us, especially if it comes from a person we feel we might have a connection with, right? So…how do we connect through our behaviors without baring our souls completely and risking outright rejection immediately?”

No one responded. Murmurs didn’t even break out throughout the class.

“Shared interests,” Ms. Tabatabai said, finally. “You join in on activities that they enjoy. Sometimes you enjoy the activities as well, but other times, you engage with their hobbies and interests simply because it makes them happy. It gives you an opportunity to see them doing something where their guard is down and they are living in the moment.”

Murmurs broke out in the classroom. This had been so obvious that we all felt dumb. Of course, it really had nothing to do with English, but it did apply to our partner project, so Ms. Tabatabai’s speech was pertinent.

“When we care about a person, we support them,” she added. “So, as you continue to work on your projects—hopefully, while challenging yourselves to learn about each other without speaking—consider trying this. You don’t have to—it’s just a tip from me to all of you.”

More murmurs sounded in class.

“But enough of that,” Ms. Tabatabai waved us off. “Let’s get down to business. Who did their weekend reading?”

Once again, thirty students were murmuring, but it wasn’t all positive. Apparently, some of us hadn’t done our homework. Unsurprisingly, Jules was one of the students who had better things to do. Typical. I looked over to find her scowling down at her desk, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

It didn’t help the situation one bit.

“Hey,” I said.

Chris was sitting on his front porch when I pulled up in front of his house thirty minutes after school. It was like he had been expecting me. Of course, we’d both heard Ms. Tabatabai’s speech in English. We had both probably been thinking the same thing. There was no way for Chris to watch me write one of the letters to him since I had typed them all over four years before. Handing it to him in person and standing there while he read it was the next best thing.

Chris didn’t respond. He simply looked up at me. His camera was hanging from the strap around his neck. For several moments, we stared at each other, him up at me, and me down at him. Finally, he stood from the porch and motioned for me to follow him. I nodded.

Instead of heading into his house, Chris walked along the front of the house, leading me around the corner. I walked alongside him, saying nothing as he led me into the backyard. Round brick planters were bare, waiting for spring to come and call flowers forth. Pine trees sat down at the edge of the property, alien-like and green, fighting against the chill of the mid-February air.