25. His Letters

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Baby, 

I guess you already know where I am from the stamp. Although I didn't put my name on the envelope, I'm sure you know it's me.

I'm shit with words. I never know what to say, and when I do say something, it turns out to be just another fuckup to add to the long list.

This time, Diego convinced me to write a letter (I will tell you about him later). The dude says something written by hand shows I care way more than a text. I hope he's right.

I wanted to call you. The fear of you hanging up on me is the only reason why I didn't. I hope you read this letter, but I guess I can't be mad if you decide to throw it away. 

I joined an organization that helps people in the areas hit by natural disasters in several countries all over the world. I met the guy who offered me the job in the garage once. I wasn't going to take it, Kitten. I never thought I would go abroad. I never wanted to leave you. Please, believe me.

The guilt is eating me alive. I see Mac's scared face every time I try to sleep. I take my pills religiously because I promised Jim I would. 

Yes, Jim knows, but don't be mad at him. I told him to keep quiet because I will be away for nine months, and you deserve to go to college without worrying about me. I know leaving the way I did was the worst thing I could have done to you. It broke me to do it. Making love to you for the last time broke me. You probably don't believe me, but it's true. I needed to do something if I didn't want the repeat of what happened when I turned eighteen. I would like to tell you those thoughts don't appear in my mind anymore, but it's a lie. It's not fair to let you nurse my wounds and focus on me when you should think about yourself. College is your dream, and I wouldn't forgive myself if you gave up on it because of me.

I want to get better, baby. I want to figure a way to become someone better for you and me both. I know Mac woke up, and it's the only thing that makes me feel slightly less guilty.

I'm not an idiot, at least not entirely. I know what I did was shitty, but if you'd known I was leaving, I wouldn't have left at all. I wouldn't be able to do it if that meant saying goodbye to you in person. That's how big of a coward I am. It baffles me that you could feel something for me at all. 

Please, forgive me. Forgive me for what I'd done. I meant what I wrote on that note — I love you. To be honest, I always have. I was too scared and too immature to admit it.  I was afraid of having my heart permanently tied down to someone else's, but guess what? It happened anyway.

I think I started to fall for you that night at the cabin. Seeing you like that, sassy and beautiful, saying my kisses were average...you blew my mind, and you did it every time. Every second and minute of every day. 

The selfish side of me is begging you to wait for me. I know nine months is a long time. I know you don't deserve it. But maybe, just maybe, if you love me just a little, you could give me a chance to do what I have to and return to you being someone you would be proud of.

If you decide to give me a chance, please let me know. Do whatever you want. An empty text or a missed call is enough.

Beggars can't be choosers, and I am begging, baby. Please, wait for me.

Love you from the city where you are to the volcanoes in front of me and back, a million times over.

Your Brian.

Hands shaking, I fold the letter and put it aside. After I wipe off my tears hastily, I reach for the birthday message from Brian I never got.

It’s tucked into the same kind of envelope, except this time, something else is inside. I shake the white rectangle, and a small object falls out of it and lands on my open palm. It’s a silver pendant in the shape of a tiger.

The letter that goes with it is shorter than the other one. I take a deep breath and start reading.

Leah,

It’s been months, and I don’t have high hopes. I shouldn’t probably write to you again, but it’s your birthday. It’s my special day, too, no matter what.

I hope you’re happy, and I hope your studies go well. You are smart and determined to succeed and just as brave and fierce as the tiger on the pendant I’d put together with this letter. I saw it in Jakarta and thought about you and that night at the Temple when you told me you were a kitten with me but a tiger with everyone else.

I think about you all the time, every day. I will be back in just a couple of months, and I can’t wait to see you. I can only hope you want that, too.

I hope you’re enjoying your day and this letter doesn’t arrive too late. I would hate to leave you without a birthday present or make you believe you’re not on my mind every second of every day.

Happy birthday, baby.
I love you,
Brian

I blink away the fresh tears and put both letters in their respective envelopes. My legs are stiff from sitting on the hard living room floor, and anger mixed with hurt and confusion makes it hard to think clearly.

I drag my feet upstairs and lock the letters in my desk drawer. Not trusting my mom is the saddest feeling ever. I thought she would change after talking to my dad and seeing how her poor decision affected both our lives, but I was wrong. 

I sit on my bed and clasp my hands on my knees. What is the right thing to do? I know I should find Brian and thank him for the pendant. I’m torn between wanting to run into his arms and wanting to yell at him for relying on what he wrote and not insisting more.

We are trapped in the spiral of hurt and regret, and I don’t see a way out. He made me happy, deliriously happy every day we spent together, but there were just as many days I spent alone. Not knowing hurts way more than the truth, even if the truth arrives a month later.

I study my red nail polish and then trace the moon tattoo with my fingertips, lost in my doubts and fear. I’m afraid of him hurting me again. I’m scared of making the mistake of forgiving him too fast. My head and my heart are at war. No matter what I do, I won’t have any guarantees. Will he run away the next time things get rough? Did being apart make him grow up?

The music in Brian’s backyard seems even louder. The guilt of bailing on my dad and Mr. O’Brien is what propels me to get up from my bed and leave my room.

I make sure I don’t have mascara stains under my eyes and on my cheeks and pull myself together before exiting my house and going to Brian’s.

I am about to circle his house to join the partygoers when a familiar voice calls me, “Leah!”

I swing around and face Brian’s mom. She looks beautiful in a white sundress with her long dark hair falling over her shoulders. Aria is carrying a stack of empty dishes. They sway, and I hurry to take some of them from her before they topple over.

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I saw your dad and was wondering where you were.”

“I went home for a while,” I say. My voice sounds anything but confident. My last memory of Brian’s mom is tied to the day I cried about Brian, and Aria comforted me.

“Have you eaten?” Aria asks me.

I consider lying, but the traitor of my stomach gives me away in the most pathetic of ways.

“Come on,” Brian’s mom says. “I have to put these in the dishwasher, and we have some food for you in the kitchen. I forgot to buy paper plates,” she adds, probably to make small talk and get rid of the awkwardness.

I follow her into the house. Happy memories assault me because Brian’s place felt more like home to me than my own house did.

Aria and I don’t talk as we put the dishes away. When the dishwasher starts working, she grabs a plate with a steak and some potatoes and puts it in the microwave.

"You didn't have to," I say.

Aria smiles. "Nonsense. Besides, it wasn't me. It was Brian. He wanted to make sure you ate. Why don't you sit down?"

I oblige, lowering myself onto a chair at the kitchen table. Aria grabs my plate with food and gives it to me before sitting by my side.

I eat calmly despite having my stomach twisted in knots. 

"Thank you," I say as soon as my plate is empty.

"It's nothing, Leah." Aria studies the wooden tabletop for a couple of seconds and lets out a sigh.

"I promised myself I wouldn't meddle and be one of those nosey, annoying mothers, but I need to ask you this. Did you hear Brian out?"

I bite my lip. "Not really. I've just read his letters. For the first time."

"For the first time?" Aria's brows rise.

"Yeah. I had no idea he sent them. I thought...I thought he didn't care."

Aria leans back in her chair and tilts her head to the side, studying my expression. "And what do you think now?"

"I don't know. I guess I think that he does care, but...I'm scared to trust him blindly again."

Aria nods. "I see. Brian's way of doing things wasn't the best. He hurt you deeply, but… He loves you, Leah. The boy you saw today isn't the same guy you dated last year. He saw the world and might've even found his calling, and all of it is thanks to you."

I want to speak, but Brian's mom doesn't let me. "Yes. I know how much being with you helped him and changed him. I won't tell you my son will never hurt you again. There are no guarantees. He's young, and he might make mistakes, but you know what?"

"What?" I whisper.

"Good boys come in different shapes. Sometimes they ride bikes, smell of cigarette smoke, and cuss like sailors. Brian has many flaws. I'm not going to lie to you and say he's perfect. But his huge heart is his main virtue. He cares about his loved ones, and he's selfless when it comes to his family and friends. The essence of the person is what matters the most. Perhaps...perhaps forgiving him will take you some time, but please give him a chance to fix his mistake. Hear him out."

I look at Brian's mom and give her a barely-there smile. "I will."

"Thank you," Aria says as she gets up from her chair. "Now, I need to go. The guests are waiting. Brian must be in the garage because I didn't see him in the backyard."

"I'll look for him."

Aria gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze and leaves the kitchen. She returns to the party, and I stroll to the repair shop.

I spot Brian sitting on the log where we'd sat earlier. A shoebox is next to him, and he's holding a piece of paper in one hand and a lighter in the other one. 

"Brian."

Brian's panicked eyes dart to mine. He jumps to his feet and grabs the box, tucking it under his arm.

"What's in it?" I ask.

Brian tightens his hold on the box. "Nothing."

"I don't believe you," I say, taking a step forward. 

"I said it's nothing, Leah. Let me leave it in the garage."

I narrow my eyes at him and glance at the piece of paper Brian is holding, spotting my name on it.

"What's in your hand?"

Brian is about to turn around, but I am faster. I snatch the page from his hand, making him cuss.

"It's another letter," I say after I've scanned the first lines. "I didn't get this one."

"You weren't supposed to," says Brian. 

"It has my name on it, which means it concerns me. What's in the box, Brian?"

"Drop it, Kitten. Okay?"

I nod just barely, and it's all it takes for Brian to relax his grip on the box. Seizing the opportunity, I tug at it, making it slip out of Brian's grip.

"Leah, don't. Give it back."

I shake my head and clutch the box to my chest as I walk to the log.

Brian follows me. He's raking his fingers through his hair non-stop and throws panicked glances at me as I sit down and get ready to find out what he's been hiding.

It's when I lower my gaze to the box I placed on my lap that everything becomes clear.

There's a label on top, and on the white sticker, four words are scribbled in blue — Unsent letters to Kitten.

Thoughts?
Would you forgive him?

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