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Cora
Thirteen years ago
Summer was oncemy favorite time of year. Now it officially sucks.
It has been two weeks since Gavin left and all I feel is hollow. A mere shell of the girl I was weeks ago.
Talking with him on the phone every day relieves some of the anguish in my heart. But it never fully dissipates. The strangest part of it all… Before Gavin, I was this loner girl. Someone who never cared for the company of others—with the exception of Shelly. Before Gavin, it had never been challenging to sit beneath a tree by myself and get lost in a book. To hang out in my room alone and listen to music. To walk in the park and listen to the leaves rustle and the birds chirp.
Now, I don’t want to even imagine sitting beneath our tree when school starts again. It is bad enough Gavin won’t be there, but I also don’t have Shelly to hang with since she goes to another school. Listening to music hasn’t been the same and I have no desire to step foot outside unless absolutely necessary.
I reach for my sketch pad and pencils and drag them closer. For the next two hours, I get lost in art. At least with art, I create whatever I feel. Art doesn’t have to be rainbows or cheeriness or the sunny side of life. It can be anything at any given time. Emotion spilled on paper or canvas and up for interpretation.
When I finish, I dust off the page and take in my drawing. The graphite dons the page in sharp lines and subtle smudges. The scent of pencil shavings pricks my nose. A layer of shiny carbon coats the edges of my palms and several fingertips.
On the page, I drew a beach sunset with a silhouette couple walking hand in hand by the water. In the bottom right corner, I scribble the signature I add to all my art pieces. Before I fold it into thirds, a tear slips from my eye and lands on the page.
I don’t wipe it away. I let it stay and bleed through the paper, knowing Gavin will see it when I mail it to him.
On a piece of notebook paper, I start writing a letter to Gavin. Although we talk on the phone regularly, there is something different about sending him drawings or pictures and letters. Like I am sending a physical piece of myself to him. Something for him to hold in his hands when he can’t hold me. Something he can look at in the future when he needs me with him. A form of solace in our time apart.
Gavin,
I miss you so much. Sunsets aren’t the same without you by my side.
And I’m so tired of everyone asking me if I’m okay. Why would they think I’m okay? My boyfriend, the love of my life, just got shipped off to California. I mean… would they be alright if it happened to them?
I seriously doubt it.
Have you gotten your room situated yet? I know it’ll never be like your room here, but maybe you can make it as close as possible.
Thanks for sending me the picture of the California sunset. It’s definitely a different view than anywhere here. I hope we can share the sunsets there together sometime. More to add to our memories.
Have I mentioned how Shelly has been following me around all summer like a lost puppy? It’s annoying as fuck.
I know she means well, but is it wrong for me to not want to be around anyone else right now?
Whatever. I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. All I know is this sucks.
It’s like I’m hyperventilating all the time. I’m never able to catch my breath. And it’s like my heart is literally missing. If I thumped on my chest, I wouldn’t be surprised if it sounded like tapping on a watermelon.
Anyway. The point of these letters isn’t to depress you. You miss me as much as I miss you. I just wish I could hug you. You give the best hugs. Did I ever tell you that? No other hug on earth compares to yours. It’s warmth and peace and home all wrapped up in the perfect package.
Fuck! I’m crying again. I am sick and tired of crying. My eyes hurt. They’re always red and puffy and I have to hide them behind big sunglasses everywhere I go.
This really fucking sucks!
I really hope you’re able to come home sometime during the summer. Even if it’s just for a long weekend. I’m not picky and will take whatever I get.
Okay, I’ll wrap this up. In a few hours, you’ll call me and we’ll talk until we’re forced to hang up. But I never want to hang up. Ever.
I love you so much!
Cora
I trifold the letter and stuff it in an envelope, along with the drawing. After I address it, I ask Mom for a stamp and then walk it out to the mailbox. I place it in the mailbox like it’s my most prized possession. And for good measure, I press my palm over the envelope and send a piece of myself with the envelope to Gavin.
When I walk back inside, Mom tries to lure me into the kitchen. “Want to make cookies with me?”
Do I look like I’m five and I want to lick the dough from the mixer blades? But I don’t say that because I know she is only trying to lift my spirits. She has been trying since Gavin told me they were moving. And more so since the day his parents put him on the plane. I am grateful to have her as my mom, but her love will never be the same as what I give and receive from Gavin.
She means well, and I love her greatly for that, but I just don’t see how making cookies will make up for losing someone.
“No thanks, Mom.”
I walk back to my bedroom, lay on my bed and curl into a fetal position. I hug my phone to my chest and close my eyes. It won’t be long before Gavin calls, but until then I just want to sleep. Sleep away all the minutes and hours and days between when I get to talk with him again. Sleep away every tick of the clock until I get to see him again. And hopefully that day arrives soon.
