Page 150 of Late Fees

Dear Harrison,

In one week, I leave for Florida with Oden’s family. Over time, things have gotten a little easier. Being with Oden is…simple. Deep down, I know that it’s probably because I don’t care as much as I probably should. But nevertheless, he makes me laugh, and when I’m with him, I can actually breathe. He’s like this little bit of oxygen for a patient whose lungs are collapsing. Not the cure but a respite.

Wyatt has written me six times. I feel so guilty that I can’t bring myself to open them. Am I a horrible person, Harrison? What if he’s met someone else? What if he’s dating? The thought makes me physically sick, which, I realize, is probably the most hypocritical thing I could ever say. I know that. But my biggest fear is that Wyatt won’t find an “Oden” of his own—someone who makes things tolerable. No, I’m afraid he’ll meet the girl who makes me look like a flash in the pan, a girl who makes him see the light—the one who makes him realize that I never deserved him. And that he is way out of my league. Because I already know that he is, and I’m so afraid that some Norwegian girl named Anika or Britt will rock his world, and he’ll tell me goodbye. Forever.

At least when I don’t open them, I can pretend that he misses me as much as I miss him. Because I do, Harrison. Every, single, fucking day.

Sorry for the profanity, but sometimes you just have to let it out. I know you get it. And I don’t want to go to Disney World with a chip on my shoulder. I mean, it’s the most magical place on earth, right? With princes and happily ever afters…

But I don’t want to go there, Harrison. I want to go to Norway, where my real prince is…because the one by my side isn’t who I really want.

But you already knew that, didn’t you, Harrison?

Until next time—

Tilly

God, I felt like such an asshole for throwing her trip to Florida in her face. After reading this, I knew her heart wasn’t really there. With each entry I read, I felt like I was getting another piece of the puzzle—more insight into how my absence affected Tilly. I wasn’t the only one who was heartbroken. I was slowly starting to grasp the depths of Tilly’s heartbreak. And it was deeper than I ever could have imagined.

October 2, 1994

Dear Harrison,

I’m writing you from Champaign, Illinois.

I know, I know. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. At all.

Even though the voice program at the University of Illinois is just fine, I wish I could go back to the day of my audition for Lurie’s. Wyatt would be so disappointed to know that I didn’t go.

This is his senior year of high school. I wonder what it’s like for him there.

No, I still haven’t read the letters, but my mom says one arrived two days ago. She’s placing them on my desk in my room until I return. She assumes I’ve read all the others—I guess that’s a normal assumption…for a normal person.

But I’m beginning to think that’s not me at all.

Maybe I deserve pepperoni pizza with red sauce. Maybe that’s all that I am.

Anyway, Oden convinced me to go to U of I (as you well know), but now that we’re here, I hardly see him. I’m not exactly complaining. Being in Champaign has magnified our differences, and if I’m honest with myself, when we’re alone together, I’m not as good at hiding my boredom. Our conversations have always been mundane, but now, it’s like being here, he’s finding his people. Another group of people to worship the great Oden Marcelo.

And me? Well, I’m alone a lot. My roommate is a complete nightmare—she’s so bad. I’ve already woken up to her having sex in our room three times…this week…and with three different guys. And when I asked her to knock it off, she reminded me that there are couches in the lounge. So, basically, I hate her guts. And I’m pretty sure she’s no fan of mine.

I miss Ronnie, and I still miss Wyatt. I know it’s pathetic, Harrison, to miss someone I refuse to acknowledge. But in my screwed-up brain, it actually makes sense. Somehow.

Anyway, last night, Ronnie suggested I consider transferring to Lurie’s. That maybe I could give myself a second chance at my dream. Because even though it was a shared dream, it was still my dream. Don’t I owe it to myself to give it one more shot?

I’ll keep you posted, Harrison. But I’m contacting their admissions office right now.

Until next time—

Tilly

On the twenty-first day, I couldn’t contain my anticipation. I knew there would be an envelope waiting for me downstairs. The final one. One last journal entry to read, one last gateway into the mind and heart of the girl I’d loved for so long. When I opened my mailbox, the pink envelope was there as anticipated.

But what was inside was not what I expected at all.

Dear Wyatt,

I have no idea if you have read any of my journal entries. Hell, maybe you think I’m pathetic now and don’t want to see me again anyway. But I’m really hoping that you’re willing to see me because being away from you these past three weeks has been harder than I ever could have imagined.

And I never want to be without you again.

If you can find it in your heart to meet with me, to hear me out, please meet me in front of your dorm tonight at 7:00 p.m. I’ll be waiting, and I really hope you’ll be there, even if just to hear my apologies in person.

Because there are many.

And you deserve them all.

Love,

Tilly

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