Page 21 of All Your Firsts

The plush carpet cushions my hands and knees as I lower myself onto the floor. I tug at the bottom drawer of my closet dresser system, which slides out effortlessly, almost too easily from years of removing it so frequently.

My secret hiding spot. I anxiously grab the discolored white envelopes and clutch them to my chest, treating them like a priceless treasure. These letters are my solace when I’m upset, my company when I feel alone, and my source of joy when I need a smile on my face. I fan them out. Each is equally important to me—two hundred and three letters total. I would receive two letters a month, sometimes three, depending on how quickly the post office deliveredthem. I run my finger across the writing on the front, feeling the deep indentations he left by pushing so hard.

My very first letter.

Carefully, I unfold the letter with its worn and tattered edges, evidence of the countless times I’ve opened and closed it.

Dear Rosie,

You don’t know me, but I kind of know you. I hope this isn’t already creepy. I just want someone to talk to, I guess. I see that you write your brother, but he never writes back, and since you take the time to write to him, maybe you can write to me, too?

If not, it’s cool, I understand.

Gage tells me you draw. I do too. Maybe I can send you something? If you want, of course.

Anyway, if you don’t write me back, it’s okay. I just don’t have anyone to write, and it gets lonely sometimes.

- Rush

Despite his abandonment of writing to me months ago, I refuse to let these letters suffer the same fate. I refold the letter and shove it into my backpack with the rest, along with a couple of photos, before looking out the window.

It’s now or never.

I float on the water’s surface in the late Sunday afternoon sun. My limbs are limp, surrendering to the gentle current. The sun’s heatkisses my face while a gentle breeze whispers through the trees, offering me a moment of tranquility I haven’t experienced since leaving my parents’ house. I thank the credit card gods above for the expedited shipping that had my new cherry-print bikini arriving in less than twelve hours. Thanks, Gage.

I hear someone’s steps and open my eyes as I watch Vic pull a different girl to the guesthouse. His eyes never leave mine, and I feel like it’s a challenge, so I continue to stare even after they’re already inside. I wonder if Gage knows how busy his friend is.

I see a flash of blond hair before a splash breaks the silence. Axl pops his head up from the water.

“I heard you’re going to work at Sweet Escape.”

“Yep.”

“Can you put in a good word for me with Jess?”

I snort. “Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“She may just be the nicest person I’ve ever met, and you happen to be on her shit list. Seems like you must’ve done something pretty bad to upset her.”

“I’m trying to fix it,” he says in a serious tone, devoid of the usual humor I’ve come to expect over the past few days.

“What have you done to fix it?”

“I apologized.”

“Sometimes it takes time and more than just a sorry.”

“It’s been years. I don’t know what else to do.”

My lip sits between my clenched teeth as I ponder what to say. I’m mindful of not overstepping the new friendship I’m building with Jess, so I go for a vague response.

“Sometimes it helps to make the other person’s life easier. Offering help before she asks, getting her flowers or her favoritefood just because. Simple gestures go a long way to show the other person you’re thinking about them and you care.”

“Okay,” he says, looking off into the distance like he’s thinking hard. “What else?”

I look at his neck. His hickeys are beginning to fade to blotchy yellows. “If you want Jess as more than a friend, you should rethink your extracurricular activities.”

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