Page 20 of Nineteen Letters
“Come, can you stand?” You held out your hand and helped me to my feet, and then you picked my buckled bike off the road as I hobbled towards my house. “Let me help you up the stairs.”
“I’m fine,” I said, trying my best to remain brave. I wasn’t fine. I was in pain … and humiliated. You rushed ahead of me, banging on the front door. I had to grab onto the rail to help propel me up the stairs. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Getting your mum. You’re hurt bad.”
My parents didn’t like me telling people I was home alone, but I told you anyway. “My mum’s not home … she’s at work.”
I could tell by your widening eyes that you were shocked, but it didn’t deter you from opening the door and waltzing straight into my house. Even back then, I knew it was extremely careless of you to enter a stranger’s home like that, but your actions made me smile. In that moment, I knew we were going to be great friends.
After you got me seated on a chair in the kitchen and placed a wet cloth on my bleeding knee, you ran next door to get your mum.
Your mum wasn’t impressed that I was left alone at such a young age, and she let my mum know when she met her later that afternoon.
Your mother placed the first-aid kit she’d brought with her on the table and cleaned up my wounds. She was very sweet to me that day, just like you were.
“This is going to sting,” she said as she poured some antiseptic onto a cotton ball.
She wasn’t lying; it hurt like hell. It felt like she was dabbing my knee with a burning hot coal, not a soft cotton ball. The more she dabbed, the more it stung. The tears I’d kept at bay until now threatened to fall.
You were standing beside me, and out of the corner of my eye I could see you staring intently, but I refused to look at you. The moment my vision became blurry, I clenched my eyes closed. I refused to let you see me cry.
When a tear leaked from the corner of my eye, I turned my head away. I wasn’t expecting you to reach for my hand, but that’s exactly what you did. I’ve never told you this, but it helped. It really did. So, thank you.
You didn’t let go until your mum had finished.
“You were so brave,” you said as your mum packed everything away.
Those words made me feel so much better. “I’m Braxton,” I replied, holding out my hand to you. “Braxton Spencer.” If we were going to be best friends, you needed to know my name.
“Jemma … Jemma Isabella Rosalie Robinson,” you stated proudly.
“That’s a pretty name.”
I felt my face flush the moment those words left my mouth. It was a ridiculous thing for a seven-year-old to say, but it was the truth. Your name was almost as pretty as you were.
“If your leg is better tomorrow, do you want to come over and play?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
You gave me a beautiful toothless smile, and my heart raced for the second time that day.
I’m going to marry this girl one day, was the first thought that entered my mind.
That thought only grew stronger in the years that followed.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
A tight feeling forms in the back of my throat as I look down at the tiny bike charm in my hand. It was inside the letter along with a photo of us as kids sitting on our bikes. The memory bracelet now makes sense.
A small smile creeps onto my lips when I pick up the photo and study it. My two front teeth are missing, and the toothless smile he mentioned in the letter is present. We look so happy. I swallow hard, but the lump that’s formed doesn’t go away. This slight gesture has me feeling somewhat surprised and strangely overwhelmed. He was right: in a way; it has given me a tiny piece of my life back. A tiny yet significant moment from my past.
I’ve been anything but nice to Braxton since the moment I woke from my coma, yet his commitment has never wavered despite me constantly pushing him away. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own sense of loss that I haven’t considered how much this has affected him.
Pulling the letter towards me, I clutch it tightly against my chest as I make a silent promise to myself. Tomorrow when I see him, I will make more of an effort.
