The Letter

February 14th marked their anniversary.

A lone girl sat in her vehicle on the shoulder of a busy rural highway. The soft rumbling of her car’s engine and the rush of passing vehicles were the only sounds around her. The radio volume dial was spun to zero. She tucked her hair subconsciously behind her ear, eyes moving down a single sheet of slightly crumpled paper she held.

It was a letter.

Thank you, the letter began simply, for everything.

She gently tried to straighten some of the creases out of the paper. It didn’t quite prove effective, but it served as a distraction. She had come to do what had taken months to work up the courage to even think about.

She read further;

Thank you for always being there for me. For always being the first one to laugh, for all of our future plans (however unrealistic and funny they were), and for being the only one that could tease me and get away with it. Thank you.

She sniffed a little, putting a hand to her cheek self-consciously. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she read on;

You were always my beam of happiness when I was feeling low. When I jumped, you followed me, when I slipped you always reached out to me. Thank you

When her parents would yell, she ran to the place she felt safe.

You were the only one who was there for me. You always dried my tears and made me laugh. You never judged, only held me safe. Thank you forever, you taught me so much.

Blinking furiously she waited for the anger to follow. The last few months the frustration and anger had been constantly breaking the surface, haunting her at every turn of her memory. She waited but the anger didn’t come. Here, now, on the highway shoulder, instead of anger there was a sort of empty feeling. It was worse than the anger. It felt like resignation and hopelessness.

Remember that time we bought that tub of ice cream and spent the summer afternoon eating the entire thing? We got sick after, but it was worth it wasn’t it?

She looked away from the letter and focused steadily outside, watching the soft snow drift downwards, watching it dot the dark pavement of the highway. Cars sped past, kicking up swirls of the cold winter flakes in mini tornados. She bit her lip and cast her eyes back down at the paper in her lap.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that; I wish things had turned out differently. I want things to go back to the way they were. I wanted us to build our silly future plans, eat buckets of ice cream, and count the stars under the summer moon again.

The girl wiped at her eyes with the palm of her hand, smearing makeup across her cheeks. She tried breathing steadily again but it wasn’t working.

My mind knows it’s over but I can’t convince my heart that it really is. If I could change the past I would do it without hesitation. I would do anything. I would do anything for you. Life is cruel isn’t it? How could this happen to us? I still love you. I will always love you.

This time she was unsuccessful at stopping the tears. Mascara tainted lines ran down her face and left little spots on the crumpled letter.

Thank you so much for being a part of my life.

More little make-up darkened blotches soaked into the paper. She tried to read through the blurring in her eyes.

I can’t take this anymore. I need to move on. I need to rebuild without you, no matter how much I hate it. I hate those words. Without you. They sound so foreign. I don’t want to but this is something I have to do. I’m so full of anger and I need to let it go. I love you. I’ll always love you.

It was signed with her name. In her neat script. On a simple piece of beaten up white paper. She took a shaky breath and folded it carefully back up, sliding it into a white envelope with a name. Wiping at her blurry eyes, she reached for the door handle, clutching the envelope tightly in her hand.

The winter wind whipped at her jacket and she held the little white letter closer as she walked around, behind her car and into the ditch. She struggled through the giant drifts, the snow blending with the tears on face, towards a single, round ring of colour amongst all the white. Cars on the highway sped past to places unknown.

The ring of bright and artificial, plastic flowers was nearly covered by the snow. She dropped to a kneel in front of it and brushed at it, painstakingly straightening the ribbon on the top and rearranging the bright flowers. She studied it for a moment. The moisture on her face was freezing and her eyelashes felt heavy.

Then, as if on a whim, she dug frantically through her coat pockets, eventually producing a pen. Holding the letter atop her knee, she scrawled a last note on the front of the envelope. She wiped at her face again and tucked the letter carefully in among the plastic flowers.

She didn’t look back when she drove away. He wouldn’t want her to dwell.

A single white envelope fluttered hopelessly against the winter wind. The front read;

Wait for me up there, I’ll be there. I promise.

P.S. Happy Anniversary and Happy Valentines

Kayla Doerksen

February 2007