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Tilly
“Wyatt, wait!” I yelled, running out of my room just as the front door slammed shut. “Shiiiiiiiiiit.”
“Dude, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t talk to me right now, okay?” I snapped at Dutch. “This is all your fault. Why did you have to open that damn package? And why did you have to say something about it in front of Wyatt? What the hell were you thinking? I told you everything in confidence! You knew he didn’t know about the letters, Dutch!”
“I—I’m sorry,” Dutch stammered. “I wasn’t thinking. It just flew out of my mouth.”
Ronnie put her arm around me. “He just needs to calm down. He’ll be back, just like yesterday. He’s hungover and not feeling good, but it’ll be okay.”
“What if it isn’t?” I asked, feeling my knees go weak. Walking slowly to the couch, I saw it on my tiny coffee table. Wyatt’s semester project.
“Matilda the Magic,” I said. And right then and there, with Wyatt’s project in my hands, I fell apart. Completely. Every emotion I’d had since Wyatt left for Norway came bubbling up to the surface, and I couldn’t contain it anymore. None of it. The papers fell from my hand and landed on the table as I doubled over onto the couch, clutching a cushion for dear life as I wailed into the fabric. Ronnie rushed to sit next to me, rubbing my back as I sobbed.
“He’s gone,” I managed to choke out as I howled. “I’ve lost him.”
“No, don’t say that, Till. Don’t even think it. He’s just upset, that’s all.” She patted my lower back.
“I’m gonna…take a walk or something,” Dutch said. “Give you guys…you know—”
Ignoring Dutch and the sound of my front door closing again, I continued my train of thought, wallowing in my despair. “I don’t deserve him, Ronnie. I never did.”
“Oh, my God, Tilly, stop it. This is just a fight. Everyone has them; stop thinking it’s over, okay? It’s not over.” She paused for a second. “But when you calm down, you should read it. His project, I mean. It’s pretty awesome. And not just his illustrations—the story, it’s about you, obviously. But it’s like this love letter to you, Till. It’s kind of beautiful.”
“I can’t,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. “It’ll just make it worse.”
“Matilda Jane Hamilton,” Ronnie said, her voice clipped and irritated. I twisted my neck to look at her, knowing that she demanded my full attention. Even through my misery and tears, I knew when my best friend meant business.
“You have to stop running away. Stop putting things in a box so you don’t have to deal. Maybe that was fine in high school, but not now. Not anymore.”
“It’s the only way I know how to deal with things.” I shrugged, wiping my tears. “My mom calls it compartmentalizing. She says I’ve always done it.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what it’s called. The point is, it’s not good enough anymore. Wyatt deserves better. You…you deserve better, Tilly. Read the letters, look at this crazy, wonderful saga that he created…all of it for you. Do you know what I would give to have someone love me this much?” she said, raising her voice as she grabbed the project from the table, waving it in the air. “No one has ever seen me the way that boy sees you. Wyatt’s a freaking gem. And he thinks you hung the damn moon.”
“No, he doesn’t. Not anymore. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up. He’s too good for me. I know that now.”
“That’s not at all what I’m saying. I’m saying read it, Tilly. I’m going to take a shower, give you some time. Read his words, read it all. Then figure out a way to apologize and get past all of this. Don’t be stubborn, not this time. You were stubborn back when he left, and that’s why you didn’t read any of those letters. I won’t let you be stubborn again. Look where it’s gotten you.”
Ronnie wasn’t mincing words, but even though, in a way, it felt like she was kicking me while I was down, I knew she had my best interest at heart. So, I listened to everything she said, and I thought about everything I had done to sabotage things with Wyatt all because of my inability to face things, to deal with pain and disappointment. I buried my head in the sand, and all it ever did was hurt me.
I hurt myself. And I hurt Wyatt.
Ronnie passed me a napkin from the donut shop, and I wiped my tears and blew my nose, trying to take a deep breath. “Extra towels are in that tiny closet in the hallway. Shampoo is in the shower.”
“Herbal Essences?” Ronnie asked. It was our favorite shampoo—and the cheeky commercials didn’t hurt.
“Yep,” I said, wiping my nose again with the back of the napkin, the rough paper irritating my skin.
“All right, I’m going to have a totally organic experience. You get your reading glasses on.”
“But I—”
“Dude, I know you don’t have reading glasses; it’s just a figure of speech.”
“Don’t call me dude. You sound like Dutch.”
She giggled and made her way down the hall as I took a deep breath and picked Wyatt’s project up from the table. Turning the page, I started reading. It was in comic book format and thick as a novel. On page two, I saw her…Matilda. The most adorable, little girl with bouncy red curls, pale skin, and freckles on the bridge of her nose. And for the first time, I saw how Wyatt saw me.
