Holy shit. I can’t believe this is actually happening right now, I thought as I dumped everything on the table and ran to my bedroom, where I knelt on the floor and dug a box out from beneath the bed.
In it was a stack of letters I had written to a girl who existed for the most part in my head, where I had imagined what incredible things she might’ve gone on to do after I rescued her from a violation I never would’ve forgiven myself for had I allowed it to happen under my watch. I pulled out those letters, holding them in my hands for the first time in months, unable to believe that the person I had written them to was standing right outside. I hesitated only a moment before climbing to my feet and running back through the front door, where I found her still waiting by her steps.
“Okay,” I said, holding the letters tightly in my trembling hands. “So, when I was locked up, I had nobody. I-I mean, I had some friends inside, but from my life before, I had nobody. Not a single person gave a shit about me. Fuck, even my own mother only visited me twice in the entire time I was there.”
Ray’s face fell with a sweeping rush of sadness. “She only saw you twice … in nine years?”
“Yes,” I replied simply, afraid that if I said anything more, the hurt and anger and everything else would overshadow what I needed to say.
“God, that’s awful.”
“Yeah, well, you never met my mother … or … I don’t think so anyway …” Another time, man. Tell her what you need to say. “Anyway, I had nobody to really talk to outside of the guys I knew at Wayward, is what I’m saying. No letters, no phone calls, nothing. And it sucked. It was lonely, and I hated it. I hated that …” I looked away and stared at Eleven, sitting behind the screen door. Waiting for me to stop being a bumbling fool and feed him. “I hated that I had been such a fuckup that nobody wanted to stay in touch with me. I hated that I had hurt everybody who had once cared or that they were dead—or both.
“But then, one night, while I was lying in my bunk, I started thinking about this girl …” I turned back to Ray, hardly able to believe that she was her. Unable to believe she was here, right now, looking back at me, all these years later. How the hell had I not noticed it before? “The one person I hadn’t hurt at all. And I began to wonder what had happened to her, where she had gone, what she had done with her life … I thought that maybe she might be the only person I had made a positive impact on and maybe she could be the only person to ever think of me and remember how good I was.”
Ray’s eyes held mine with an unexplained intensity and sadness as I clutched the bundle of rubber-banded letters. She stood there, frozen, clutching her book to her chest like she was afraid to let go, to do anything else but stare and wait with bated breath.
“So”—I held up the bundle in one hand—“I wrote letters to her. Whenever I had something to say or something happened, I would write these letters to Rain, thinking she’d never read them—but that was fine. She was just someone to talk to, you know, even if she only existed in my head. Like, uh … an imaginary friend.”
Ray’s lips parted with a whispered exhale as she lifted the hand not holding her book and hesitantly reached out to take the bound letters from me. “You … wrote these to me?”
I nodded, then chuckled through a rush of embarrassment. “I told you it was weird.”
“No.” She shook her head, looking at the top envelope, simply reading Rain in my shitty handwriting, “I … I just can’t believe you even remembered who I was. It was so long ago …”
“Yeah, it was.”
She lifted her eyes from the letters to look at me, her lips curved in an indecipherable smile. Then, she asked, “Would it be okay if I read these?”
It was surreal to accept that she was even holding them, let alone with an interest to read them, but I nodded. “Of course. Your name’s on them, isn’t it?”
Ray pulled in a deep breath and nodded before gesturing over her shoulder with the bundle in her hand. “I should probably …”
“Yeah,” I said, remembering that we both had lives to get back to. You know, a cat and a kid to feed. Showers to take. Books to read. A pretty girl to think about.
“I’ll, um …” She took a step backward to her porch. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
And the day after and the one after that …
I hope.
She smiled, hugging both the letters and book to her chest. “Okay.”
“Night, Ray.”
“Good night, Soldier.”
I reluctantly turned to head back into my house, where Eleven was already pacing and getting excited at the prospect of finally having dinner. I listened as Ray began her own ascent to her house, where Noah was undoubtedly waiting inside with his grandmother, as he did every other day after school. He was probably wondering what the hell was taking her so long, just as Eleven had been, and he might’ve even checked outside to see us talking. I felt a little guilty for not saying hi to him too, but—
“Hey, Soldier?”
I turned quickly before I could start to climb my rotten, warped steps and hurried over to stand at the bottom of her porch.
“Yeah?”
She stood just a foot before me, just about at eye-level, thanks to the steps giving her some extra height. Her breath hitched as she looked at me so closely, and mine did too. She looked different from this angle. I mean, she was always pretty, but, man, head-on like this …
I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“I never forgot you either.”
“Oh, no?” The words propelled me forward until my toes hit her bottom step, standing now with my face just inches from hers.
She shook her head and wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “How could I?”
I dared to lean forward, dared to brush my nose against hers, and—stupid me—I shuddered at the intimacy. It was humiliating, but, Christ, when the hell was the last time I’d been touched? Even hugs were rare, never mind … well, this.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” I whispered, my heart in my throat and my hands itching to hold hers.
She smiled, dropping her eyes to my mouth. “I know. It feels so—”
Her front door opened, and then came a voice I didn’t recognize. “Ray?”
Ray exhaled with a disgruntled sigh as she quickly took a step away, and I was disappointed, but I was also so elated that I almost didn’t care.
Almost.
“Yeah, Mom,” she answered without looking in her mother’s direction. She kept her eyes on me as she grimaced with an unspoken apology.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Are you ever coming inside, or do you live on the porch now?”
Ray rolled her eyes. “I’m coming in. Just give me a minute.”
Her mom exhaled noisily. “Okay. Oh, and, you know, it’s a little rude not to introduce me to your friend.”
I peered around Ray to give her mother—a gray-haired woman, wearing an amused smirk—a wave. “Hi, I’m Soldier. I, uh … I live next door”—I gestured toward my little house—“over there.”