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February 18
Dear Av,
All these guys around me. I feel like I’m walking around the living dead but reading your letters makes me feel ALIVE.
That story about your sister Lydi made me laugh out loud. Woke up the guy above me. I was lying in bed and could just see some poor dude in a fancy suit, barefoot, with a cat peeing on his lap. Face as red as ketchup, as you put it.
Can’t say it’s been great in here. Prison can make one year feel like ten. But I want you to stop apologizing. None of this was your fault. Doesn’t matter how many times you say different. This wasn’t your fault. Promise me you'll never even think that again. Say it to yourself over and over. Tell me you know this.
The only thing I regret about that night was leaving so fast. I should have stayed back and made sure you were okay. That’s why I’m glad you wrote me. I did hesitate to send that first letter back to you. You were sixteen! Sometimes I still think I’m crazy to be writing you every week, but what can I say. I’m surrounded by gray and metal, but reading your letters is like sunshine in my day.
I regret we didn’t meet under different circumstances.
Let me stop before I get emotional.
I appreciate you telling me about your dream. I read your letters from the first word to the last in one sitting. You’re an amazing writer, and running a travel and fashion blog makes a lot of sense. You’re young and talented. Sometimes I think you should be focused on what you want for your future instead of writing some guy more than twice your age in prison, ha ha.
You can start today. I encourage you to please do it. If you don’t, in ten years you’ll be kicking yourself wondering why you didn’t start earlier. Can’t tell you how many people I know who told me they had some idea for a start-up or should’ve invested in some company. Promise me you’ll do it. And send me the link when you do. (Yes, an email is fine, just this once :))
I know things are difficult with your sisters now, but you’re still the youngest of the bunch. See? I didn’t say the word. It’s just that you’ll have to put up with them for the rest of your life.
Ps. Expect another package soon. This one’s from Norway ;)
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Love,
Ax
Outside of Avryl’s room, the floor creaks. From the sound of the footsteps, she knows Lydia is up, and the first thing her sister does when she gets up is stop by her room before going downstairs. Buth then there’s a soft knock on the door.
“Av?”
“Yes?”
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
Avryl waits a moment as the steps continue, then she reads the last lines. It hurts, just a little, that he talks about her passion separate from him, like she’s going to create this incredible, successful site, and he expects to watch from afar.
Of course, her creating a blog has nothing to do with him. In her mind, she sees a life of running her blog during the day and spending nights in his arms.
They have been playing this little game for months; at least, that’s what it feels like to her. Her words get a little more romantic, more emotional, and in each response, she reads for his subtext. Anything in his words that says he feels at least some of what she feels.
She knew they shared this connection, but his letters are frustratingly neutral. Almost … professional.
Her letter started by wishing him a quiet Valentine’s Day. She knows exactly what cell he's in and is careful about saying ‘happy anything’ when it comes to holidays.
At least he got something on Valentine’s Day and knew someone was thinking of him. Some of the guys in prison didn’t get anything or see anyone during the holidays. That bit about prison life was in one of his first letters to her.
He told her it made him sad, but then around the holidays things get really tense, and in a way she wasn’t surprised. So that's one of the reasons she wrote him before Christmas.
The year before he was in Miami, cozy in the condo he had bought for his mother. She saw the photos on his sister’s Instagram; five of them, all with matching flannel onesies on. He’d given his niece a giant teddy bear for Christmas that was wearing the same onesie, and seeing that picture made her heart melt completely. Axton was in the middle, one of his bare feet on top of the other. His arm around his mom on the left, and his sister, her husband, and their daughter on the right. She’d already looked up the onesie online to see if it came in her size.
His letter ended with ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ in his small-caps print. It was a tiny detail, but it told her exactly where love was on his mind. She couldn’t take it personally. She refused to. His feelings for her had to be disguised because of where he was. Instead, she focused on the positives.
Her words made him laugh, bringing happiness to his day.
