Page 50 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

Love,

Ryan.

When Chris showed up at his locker Monday morning, I was waiting. He actually smiled at me when he walked up to me. Like the previous dozen or so times I had given him a letter, he had a photo waiting for me, too. He held it out to me and I handed him the letter. When he started to open it, I stopped him.

“Uh,” I said, “can you read it after I walk away?”

Chris gave me a confused look, but he nodded.

“Thanks,” I said. “Uh, see you in English.”

Then I walked away, the photo gripped between my fingers. Once I was around the corner, I laid back against a bank of lockers so I could look at the photo in private.

Chris had taken another selfie. He was sitting in the corner of his bed again. Unlike his other selfies, he didn’t look off into the distance or to the side of the camera. He was staring directly at the lens, his eyes meeting mine as I gazed at the photo. A string of fairy lights had been strung up on the wall behind his bed in the shape of a heart, framing him perfectly.

He hadn’t taken the photo in black and white or muted tones. Every bright, joyful color was on display. The yellow and blue of his shirt, the blue bedspread, and the golden-yellow of the fairy lights shaped like a heart.

Message received.

In English, Chris smiled at me every time I looked over at him. Seeing him actually look at me and smile, knowing he had read my letter, I was simply…relieved.

I couldn’t take back the mistake I’d made, but I’d been forgiven. At the very least, I’d get my friendship with Chris back. That was worth smiling about.

That night as I laid in bed, watching TikTok videos before drifting off to sleep, he actually texted me.

Chris: I finished my report. It only says nice things about you.

So, I responded with the truth.

Me: I never had anything bad to write about you.

Chris responded with a wide-smile emoji.

When I put my phone on my bedside table and rolled over to go to sleep, it was obvious to me that two animals had come to understand each other. All it had taken was a little time, patience, and understanding. And honesty.

That night, I dreamed of chasing down the guy I loved to tell him my future looked good on him.

Freaking rom-coms.

“Thanks, man,” Davud said when I slid into the driver’s seat after putting his chair in my trunk. “Mom had a doctor’s appointment right at eight, so—”

“Stop thanking me all of the time,” I said. “I told you I’m always here if you want to ride to school or home together, man. Even if it’s just because.”

Davud smiled.

“Well, tha—” he began, “I mean, that’s cool of you.”

“I’m the coolest,” I agreed.

On the Friday morning of the recital, Davud’s mom had overbooked herself and Davud had texted to ask for a ride. Of course, the only answer I had was “yes.” I’d tried to convince Davud that I could pick him up each morning before school and drive him home after school each day. In typical Davud fashion, he waffled on my offer. He was still struggling with the concept that he wasn’t a burden to anyone. Instead of pressuring him, I kept offering and accepting, whatever answer he gave. Eventually, he’d come around.

For the first few minutes of our ride, Davud stared out the window at the passing scenery. Spring was finally starting to arrive in northeastern Iowa. The grass was vibrant green, the trees were starting to sprout buds, and the birds were returning in full force. Each morning, the sun shone, and clouds drifted through the sky. In the afternoons, we were constantly at risk of sudden downpours. Everything was fresh and clean and dewy.

Other than autumn, spring in Iowa is the best.

“So,” I said, finally, “I guess Chris and I are finally back on friendly terms.”

“Oh?” Davud pulled his attention away from the window to look at me. “I guess the project didn’t just work for Jules and Connor?”