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My eyes are gritty and heavy and this time I know why. It’s because I couldn’t stop crying after he left. I cried the entire day until they gave me a mild sedative and put me to sleep.
But I’m awake now.
When my eyes fall on the rows and rows of shoeboxes, I even scramble up in my bed. I don’t feel dizzy or foggy at my sudden movements as I reach out and grab a box. I open the lid and there they are.
My little orange, sun-like envelopes.
My letters.
They’re here.
I’m holding them in my hands and I don’t understand…
Then my eyes fall on something else.
A lone envelope, sitting on top of one of the boxes.
It’s gray.
And it has a letter inside it.
A reply to the very first letter I wrote for him, eight years ago.
Darling Arrow,
It’s weird writing you a letter because we sort of live in the same house.
But I guess this is the safer option. I don’t get why but it is.
Anyway, I wanted to answer your question from this morning. You know, when you asked me if I was cold?
I’m not.
I mean, I am right now because your house is really cold, dude. But I wasn’t, back in the kitchen. Because as soon as you came in, you took the cold away, which again I don’t get.
But anyway.
Maybe you have the sun in your pockets.
Do you?
Oh and I won’t tell. About your juice drinking. I’m not a rat. Your secret is safe with me.
All right, then.
That’s all I had to say.
Salem
PS: Oh! I have a question. Where’d you get that silver chain? It’s so shiny and pretty. I’m not into jewelry at all. I’m more into riding my bicycle and maybe even a little bit of soccer (by the way, I know you’re a huge soccer player. Like, super huge. I’d absolutely die if you ever taught me. Maybe one day you can? I’m not the best player but I can learn!)
Okay, sorry. I totally went off track. What I wanted to say was that I absolutely love it! Your chain.
PPS: I don’t know why I started with ‘darling’ but it felt right. It felt like ‘dear’ is too ordinary for you and I don’t think you’re ordinary at all.
***
Salem,
I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you.
Eight years.
That’s quite a long time, isn’t it?
But anyway, to answer your question: I don’t know if I carry the sun in my pockets. But if I do, then I’m really fucking glad.
Really fucking glad.
And I don’t think I ever thanked you for keeping my secret. The one with the juice and all the other secrets over the years.
So thank you.
For being my secret keeper.
To answer your other question: my dad gave me that chain. But I think you already know that.
He gave it to me because I scored the most goals in a game that believe it or not, I don’t even remember.
I’m actually sitting here, trying to think about it. Think about what game it was but for the life of me, I don’t remember. All I remember is that it was raining that day and I got to stay up late an extra hour that night because we’d won.
Find it inside the envelope. It’s yours now.
Yours,
Arrow
PS: I found these boxes in Miller’s office. I’m not sure if you’ll like the fact that I had a hand in her being fired. But you’ll just have to make your peace with it.
PPS: If you need anything, anything at all, I want you to tell my mom. I mean it, Salem. I want you to tell her and I’ll take care of it.
PPPS: By now I hope you know that you are the best soccer player I’ve ever seen.
There’s a mailbox outside of Leah’s house.
That’s where he leaves a letter for me.
Every morning.
And he’s been doing it for the past two weeks, ever since I got discharged from the hospital.
Every morning I wake up and rush down the stairs to the front door. I run down the driveway in my pajamas to get to the mailbox and rip it open, and every day I find a gray envelope with my name on it.
Inside that gray envelope, there’s always a white, crisp paper, folded once. On that paper, he writes me a reply.
To one of the letters that I wrote to him over the years.
Which makes me think that before returning those shoeboxes to me, he took the time to read my letters.
But more than that, I think he kept them.
He kept some of my letters so he could reply to them one by one.
Is that stealing, I wonder?
I mean, they were meant for him. They’ve always been meant for him.
So I don’t know.
Neither do I know what his plan is.
Like, is he going to keep writing to me like this? Send a letter every day? Also, why hasn’t he gone back yet?
