Page 29 of Kingpin
Alannah
Dear Dominic,
Another eight days has gone by, and I haven’t seen or heard from you, so I’m writing you now because I don’t have any other options at this point.
I’ve called you a bunch of times, but your mom doesn’t answer the phone much, and when she does, I can tell she’s barely even listening to me, and I know she won’t give you the message. I understand why, though.
Everybody heard about what happened to your dad. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Dominic. I know how much you loved him and how close you were, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through right now. I just wish you would’ve talked to me so I could help. But like I said, I understand why you’d want to be alone. My love for you is making me a little selfish, though.
I miss you, Dominic. I miss the way we talked and how much we made each other laugh over the years. Nothing puts a bigger smile on my face than the night of homecoming. It was the most amazing, special night of my life, and I’ll never forget it. Not ever.
“Hurry up, Alannah. We have to go. You know I don’t like to rush,” my father yells back into the house. He and my mother are outside talking to the housing inspector, who’s making sure we didn’t leave the house in some terrible condition before we go.
Today’s the day we leave for Anchorage. I sit in my empty room remembering everything that happened while I lived here. All the good things, all the bad things. The best memories are the ones that involve Dominic. All the nights I spent in here on the phone, talking to him when I knew I wasn’t supposed to because it was late, but my parents were asleep so I did it anyway. I remember how I laid on my bed and thought about him after my first day of school, when he saved me from Billy Hannigan. I remember the day my parents told me we were moving to Alaska, and I came to this room and cried as I realized I was in love with him. Four years of incredible memories that put a smile on my face even as it all comes to an end.
“Alannah!” my dad barks again, pissed I haven’t answered him.
“I’m coming, Dad,” I shout back. “I’m just finishing it up.”
I push away the memories with plans to revisit them later, and put my pen back on the paper.
I want you to know that the past four years have meant everything to me, Dominic. I don’t take the time we’ve spent together for granted. I’ll never forget the laughs we’ve shared and the stories we’ve told, and the lives we’ve lived together. I hope you don’t forget them either, but I’m worried you will.
As I get ready to fly to stupid Alaska, I’m worried you’ll forget about everything good we’ve experienced. I’m worried that when I leave, you’ll change, and I’m scared to death of what might happen when I’m gone.
I need you to hang on to the parts of you that I love. I know there’s things about you that I choose to ignore, but please know that I love EVERYTHING about you. I love your smile, and your sense of humor, and your willingness to open up and be honest. I love your loyalty and your protectiveness. I love your passion. I love YOU, Dominic. Please don’t ever forget that. Don’t forget that I love you, and don’t forget the things I love about you.
Please don’t forget.
Who knows, maybe one day we’ll be together again.
I love you, Dominic. Forever always.
Love, Alannah.
I write the last few words on the page and put my pen down, just as my emotions take over and I have no choice but to sob. Not just little baby tears that cloud my vision, but real, heavy tears that are strong and powerful. They overtake my face and make my eyes red and puffy.
It’s more emotion than I thought possible. Even though I knew this day would come, there was never enough time to prepare for the emotions. There wouldn’t have been enough time in a million years. The fact that I haven’t seen Dominic in over a week makes it even worse, and the fact that his dad died and I haven’t been there to help him through it makes it unbearable.
I cry as I fold the letter, and I cry as I tuck into the envelope. I cry on my way down the stairs, stopping only to tell my parents I’m okay so they won’t worry, and then I start up again as we drive away, leaving all of my memories of my bedroom behind forever.
My parents, though, were nice enough to promise to take me to Gloria Giaculo’s house to drop off the letter. I’ve only been over once or twice, but seeing it now makes me feel like it was a second home.
I knock on the door, but Dominic’s mother doesn’t answer. I clutch the envelope tighter, willing the door to open so I can make sure this letter gets to Dominic, but after five minutes of standing there and my parents telling me we have to go, I finally give up. It’s like everything connected to Dominic has evaporated, and I’m left all alone. I tuck my chin into my chest and meander back to the car, sulking the whole way.
Just before getting in, I notice the mailbox at the end of the driveway. So, I decide to take a shot in the dark and hope for the best. I place the letter in the mailbox and say every prayer I can think of, hoping with everything in me that Dominic gets it.
I don’t say a word as we drive to the airport. My parents ramble on about how everything will be okay, and how I’ll make new friends in Alaska, but they don’t understand that it’s not about making new friends, it’s about keeping the only one I really want. It’s about my love for him, and since they can’t understand that I love him, I don’t listen when they tell me I don’t know what love is because I’m only fifteen. They won’t attempt to understand, so I won’t attempt to make them.
I’m silent when we check in at the counter. I’m silent when we board the plane, and I’m silent when we take off. I want to be silent forever, because everything I’ve grown to love is being left behind.
As we reach our peek altitude, I say another prayer for Dominic, hoping that since we’re so high and closer to heaven, God will actually listen. I pray the whole flight, but I’ll never know if my prayers are answered.
