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Do you know what today is?
I’ll wait.
Did you remember? It’s been one year since I wrote my first email to you. I won’t say it’s our anniversary because that might freak you out, even though it kind of is. Or did our friendship begin the first time you wrote me back?
In the last year, we’ve exchanged 32 emails. 32! I never thought we’d get past 1. Did you think we’d get past 2?
I think we should try to double our emails this year. You’ve been writing me back faster, so I’m confident we’ll make it. Besides, it’s hard for me to go more than a week without hearing from you. I start to feel a little panicky. I guess it makes sense that in a year, you’ve become important to me. I hope that doesn’t freak you out either.
Here’s the sad thing, Callum: not much has changed for me in the last year. I got older, slightly wiser, I finished high school, and I’m in college, but that’s it. I’m still living with my shitty parents in an even shittier apartment—no, wait, reverse that. My parents are definitely shittier. Still a once-kissed virgin. I haven’t been anywhere. I still shrink.
What about you? What’s changed in the last year?
Will this be the year I get to hear your voice?
Your favorite pen pal,
Birdie
Little Bird,
Yeah, I was confident we’d get past 2 because I knew you’d write me back. I never suspected I would continue to reply to you, though. You’re something of a surprise. Probably the biggest in my life.
I’m writing back to you the same day you sent this. Couldn’t miss our anniversary, could I? I’ve never celebrated an anniversary. I’ll probably have a drink and watch Adam make very bad decisions. The drink makes it a special occasion.
Don’t worry about change, Little Bird. You’re smart. You’ll make it happen.
You’re only a once-kissed virgin because your shadow hasn’t come to claim you yet. Don’t rush things. That day will come.
In the last year, I’ve set foot in almost every state. I read 28 books. I’ve improved as a bass player. I still disassociate. I’m as stone cold as ever. I haven’t spoken to my parents in three years. I turned 22. I made a new friend, and she’s a little bird.
I don’t know if I want you to hear my voice. You like me this way. You probably won’t if we ever meet.
Happy anniversary.
Callum
Dear Callum,
Holy granola, are you kidding me?!?
If we ever met, I’d be so awkward, you’d immediately block my email address and never write to me again. I was thinking maybe a phone call, but that makes me want to die because—you’re going to laugh, so brace yourself—I’ve never spoken to a boy on the phone before. Maybe a voice memo? Or you could call at an appointed time and leave me a message.
Okay, you’re right, this is a terrible idea. We’ll forever be pen pals.
Except, one day, I might want to meet you. And I know I’d like you because I already know you’re not stone cold. So, even if you just stared at me, I’d know it wasn’t because you hated me.
Do you have any idea where your parents are? Are they still The Traveling Roses? I still can’t believe you were raised completely off the grid by hippie musicians. Who else can say that? I just have Donna and Gene, who should attend some parenting classes and AA meetings. Their dysfunction is so boring!
(BTW, I am not making light of your trauma, I swear. I am trying to make light of my own)
You know, Callum, I’m beginning to think this shadow person you keep mentioning doesn’t exist. I keep checking, and no one is following me.
Your shadow-less friend,
Birdie
Little Bird,
