My Dearest

My dearest, Lucia,

I’d tell you that I hope this letter finds you in good health, but that seems rude to me, considering the circumstances.

Anyhow, do you remember that window of that old crow, Mrs. Harriet, we broke ’49? I’m almost certain you wouldn’t, as I know it’s one of many for you, but I still know the amount we had to pay her to the penny. Though, I suppose that was the name of the game with us two. Me, a girl, scared of a menacing breeze, and you, her girl, who’d have tried to beat the devil in a fistfight for a few bucks.

You know, you weren’t the first mistake of mine, as my dear sister liked to put it, but as you rang at my doorbell with a pot, filled to the brim with soup that looked like the better adaptation of Frankenstein’s monster, after getting me sick through taking me out to dance in the late autumn rain, smiling sheepishly at my peephole, I decided you’d be my last.

And that I had to teach you how to cook. (Oh and what an uphill battle that one was, love.)

…

It took me so long to be able to tell you, I can’t believe I’m just writing it down like this on paper. For the whole world to see. Or rather, my therapist. I remember the disdain in my parents’ eyes, as they found out about what their dear daughter had been up to. Never have they looked at me the same since. Or at all.

First, I was forbidden from eating at my family’s dinner table, after my sister told them I had been meeting you behind the record store. Then they sent me away. But I managed to withstand, escaping after a year of their therapy through mere chance. In my stay I used the memories of us as a lifeline. To this day I wonder whenever I would’ve been able to stay true to myself, if I hadn’t managed to flee that day or would’ve succumbed to their expectations at some point, to live some semblance of a life. Afterwards every brush of our hands and word of affection was the most precious gift life could grant me and you knew it. You saw every side of my pain, relief and gratitude and valued us just as much.

I’ll never stop hurting from losing you, the drunk nights downtown, the suffocating hugs, how your palm fit perfectly into mine and that one time you managed to bake a lemon tarte and were so stupidly proud of yourself, I couldn’t help but kiss you. Just as captivating as I found your very being, you believed me to be the most beautiful person inside and out. Until your last breath, you looked at me and smiled like I was the sole person in any room.

Everyday I mourn you and how you took the center of my world from me, but I’m getting better. I swear. I just hope it’s what you would’ve wanted, since I know it’s what I would’ve in your stead.

Until we meet again, I’ll watch you shine in the sky,

Yours Truly