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Then she never spoke of him again.
She sent Ashley and me to therapy so we could talk about him to professionals but never to her directly—I still go from time to time. She was in complete denial then, and she’s in complete denial now.
It’s like she shut down after she had to rip me away from his body. She was closer with Ashley than with me long before my dad passed, but she grew even more distant after that night.
I gather the courage to drive to the springs two hours later. Dad used to take me there whenever I was sad as a kid. The springs were our spot. Our favorite place in town, in the whole wide world, really. We’d sit by the stream, listen to nature and the water rumbling in the distance.
It always cheered me up.
Now it just makes me sad.
I park my car in the designated area. You can see and hear the springs without getting out of your car from here. Funny enough, the springs’ parking lot is never packed. The locals have grown bored with the town’s wonders and leave visiting honors to the tourists now. Oh, and the couples looking for a hookup spot.
Halfheartedly, I open my car’s glove compartment and pull out a pen and paper. I come prepared every year. I’ll never say it out loud, but I hate my mother for what she did to his final words.
And since I never got to read his letter…
I thought maybe he could read mine.
Every year, I come here, put on music as I bawl my eyes out, and write him a letter. Tell him everything he’s missed. It’s probably pointless, but I do it anyway.
I used to throw the letter into the water and watch it sink to the bottom, but I figured that wasn’t good for the environment, so now I just shred it to pieces and let the breeze blow them away.
It’s probably still not good for the environment, but hey, I tried.
I turn the radio on to dampen the sound of my breakdown and let it all out. I cry until I can’t breathe. My letter isn’t lengthy, but then again, neither was his.
It was one page.
One short page to say goodbye. I sign off the letter with “Love,” his nickname for me, and reverse out of the parking lot. As I’m rolling down my window to let the wind take my words to my dad, I dare hope that one day…
“Love” will stand for something good.
Xavier
Brie: Come to your senses yet?
Brie: I said I was sorry about the snapchat story. What else do you want from me?
Brie: Stop being such a fucking baby and come over. I need some… loving ;)
Scrolling through my ex’s texts, I hop out of my truck and toss my gym bag strap over my shoulder. The girl’s been blowing up my phone since I told her we were over.
I text back quickly.
Xavier: I’m good. Thanks.
She replies in a nanosecond.
Brie: How about now?
Brie attached a picture.
My eyes pop out of their socket at the picture on my screen. The lighting’s shit but just bright enough for me to discern a topless Brie lying in bed in her panties with nothing but lollipop emojis covering her nipples.
I’m not above a “please take me back” nude, but I’m also not looking to date her again. Eh, what the hell, maybe I’ll stop by her place after detention. I don’t need to date her to fuck her.
I text back for the first time in days.
