Page 122 of Nineteen Letters
“Please don’t feel you have to say yes, but I’d love to visit Tilly-Girl on Saturday.”
“Consider it done.”
“And maybe I could come over on Sunday and cook you another roast dinner. We could bring your dad to the house for the day.”
“He’d like that … so would I.”
I reach for her hand, and she lets me hold it all the way back to Christine’s. When I pull into the driveway, she stays seated, showing no sign of wanting to leave. I take that as a sign; I won’t put pressure on her, but I’m going to take every opportunity I can to win her back.
Leaning over, I cup the side of her face as my lips gently meet hers. I don’t know what we are, but we’ve definitely moved past the friend zone. It’s another step forward, and as long as we’re moving in the right direction, I’m happy.
My forehead rests against hers when I finally pull out of the kiss. “I have another letter for you.”
Her lips curve into a smile when I retrieve it from the glovebox. I’ve enclosed a small coffee mug charm inside.
Letter fifteen…
Dearest Jemma,
The ninth of February 2007. Even though you were putting on a brave face, I saw you wipe the tears from your eyes several times throughout the day. We were packing up my father’s car, ready for me to head to university. My heart was heavy, and like you, I struggled to remain composed.
A huge part of me was excited to embark on this new adventure, but it was overshadowed by the pain of leaving you behind. Even though I would be just an hour-and-a-half drive away, I would only get to see you on the weekends, which didn’t sit well with me. You’d been a part of my everyday life for the past eleven years. I honestly wasn’t sure how I would survive without my daily dose of your pretty face.
My father had taken us and your parents out for my farewell dinner at The Sea Shanty the night before. You kept your head bowed, pushing the food around on yourplate. I’d occasionally see you wipe your eyes, and it broke my heart.
My hand clutched yours tightly under the table. Seeing you like this did nothing to ease my sense of foreboding about leaving. I was grateful, however, that your parents agreed to let you spend that night at my house. We hardly slept; instead, we talked, we made love, and I held you while you cried. Although I was still physically there, I was already missing you.
I’d already decided to make the trip on my own. Having both my father and you at the other end would do nothing to help me settle. My dad had insisted I take his car for that week. He told me it was his way of guaranteeing I would come home the following weekend, which was ironic because nothing could have kept me from coming home to see you. I already doubted I’d last a week.
I left around 1 pm after a lunch your mother had made, but neither you nor I had eaten.
The four of you stood by the car, and I said goodbye to your parents first. Your mum got all teary as she hugged me tight. “Can you keep an eye on my dad while I’m gone?” I whispered to her.
I knew she would, she always did, but I felt compelled to ask her. I was worried about leaving him alone.
Your father shook my hand and told me how proud he was, which meant a lot. Saying goodbye to them was hard, but my next two farewells were the ones I dreaded the most. I silently prayed that I’d be able to hold it all together.
“Bye, Pop,” I said, extending my hand to him, but he pulled me into an embrace instead.
“Make me proud, son.”
“I will.” Tears stung my eyes as he held me. “I love you, Pop.” I hadn’t said those words to him since my mother’s death. I’d been too scared to.
“I love you too, son.”
He released me and took a step back, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of notes and shoved them into my hand. “No, Pop,” I said, trying to give the money back to him. “I still have money I saved from my lawn-mowing jobs.” Plus, I’d lined up a few interviews for part-time work to keep me going once I got there.
“Take it … please.”
The tortured look on your face as I moved towards you only made the lump that had formed in my throat grow bigger.
I pulled you into my arms, squeezing you tight, and the tears you’d been fighting all day came flooding to thesurface as you sobbed into my chest. I clenched my eyes shut, fighting back my own.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” I whispered into your hair.
“I’ll miss you too.”
When I finally let you go, I cupped your face in my hands, using the pad of my thumbs to wipe your tears away. “I’ll call you when I get there, and we can Skype every night.”
