From Me to You [Complete]

76

I get through a couple chapters of the novel I tried to read yesterday. I lounge on the back deck in the sunshine, enjoying the sound of the poplar trees moving in the breeze as the laundry dries. Being outside lets me check every so often to see if the clothes are still wet –and also makes sure I don't forget I hung them out here. When the clothes are dry, I fold them and bring them inside. I drop off Andy's laundry in his room and head down the hall to drop off my parents' on their bed. As I turn to go to my room with what's left in my hands, the phone rings again. I have a feeling I know who it is since she's the only one who hasn't called yet. I rush to my room to deposit the armful of clothing onto my bed and then run to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey lady," says Izzy. I hear the smile in her voice. "How are ya doing? I'm looking forward to reading that letter."

"Hi." For some reason, my voice cracks, and I feel tears well up in my eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Izzy asks seriously.

"I don't know..." I say slowly. I sit down on the floor of the hallway, my back against the wall as tears start to fall. "I guess I just really need to talk to you."

"Oh girl, what is it? I would come by, but my mom is out giving Ana her driving lessons." Ana is Izzy's older sister. I've always thought she and Ann should become friends. I mean, their names say it all.

"Okay," I say, feeling like I'm blubbering. "It's just... I couldn't finish your letter..."

"What? Oh, Mandy, don't worry about that," she says earnestly. "Honestly, I was just teasing when I said I couldn't wait. You know those letters are just for fun." The compassion in Izzy's voice is so genuine I almost start crying for real. I can't finish that letter until I can explain what happened with Michael, and own up to the way that I treated him.

"I...I know... I just can't write it. I'm so...so sorry," I manage to get out.

"Hey, it's okay..." Izzy says softly. I give into what my body feels like it needs to do, and cry for a little while. She continues to offer the support she can from the other side of the phone, although it's obvious that she's a little unsure what I'm upset about. "Oh, Mandy, I wish I was there to give you a big hug."

I smile. "I wish you were here too," I say sincerely. I wipe my eyes, and get up to go find a tissue. "Hold on," I say, putting down the phone to blow my nose and wipe my eyes again. When I feel like I can breathe properly I pick it up again.

"Hey."

"Hey," Izzy replies gently. I walk back to my room. "Are you okay?"

I look at the floor, rubbing my feet together with a sigh. The guilt of leaving Michael on that beach feels like it's eating me up inside. And the idea of telling Izzy about it makes me squirm. "Well, I think I feel a little better now after that cry."

"That's good." Izzy is so gentle and kind, and I thank myself for picking up the phone to talk to her. "Did something happen?" she asks slowly. "Like...with Michael?"

I swallow, looking around my room, trying to find something to focus on. "Like something almost happened," I say hesitantly. How can I say this?

"Did he...try something?" she asks softly.

I zero back in on the conversation. "No, he didn't," I say sincerely. "He never forced me or anything like that. All week he was gentle and slow, and always making sure I was okay." I pause, realizing how true that is. How much better he deserved to be treated by me. "I agreed to all of it. And actually I think I kind of wanted to do it. Go all the way. But looking back, I'm really glad that we didn't do it."

"Wait, what?" she asks, clearly trying to process, and concerned with what I'm talking about.

"Sorry, I'm not really making any sense." I walk to the window, looking outside at the street. It's weird to say all of this out loud. But easier than I thought it would be to say to Izzy.

"It's okay." Her voice is genuine. "Maybe you should talk to your mom about all of this?" she asks hesitantly. "I would love to help, but unfortunately I don't really have any advice about it. I have a disturbing lack of experience with all of that stuff."

My heart twinges, and this time I wish I could hug her. "Oh, Izzy. I don't care what experiences you have. They are for you to go through on your own. No one should judge you by what you've been through." I pause, wondering how to go on. "I'm really glad that I ended up waiting, as terrible as it went over. And you can wait as long as you want, okay? Also, I don't mind talking about this with you at all. Maybe in person would be better though..." I trail off. A silver car is making its way slowly down the street. I follow it with my eyes, as the guilt inside me surfaces again. "I just can't believe how I left things with Michael. I wrote him a letter, but we didn't even talk about anything before I left yesterday." The car slows down completely and turns into my driveway. I stare at it, wondering who on earth is visiting us on a Sunday afternoon. Izzy tries to make sense of what I just said.

"Mandy, thanks. I really appreciate that," she says warmly. "But back to you... I think it was a good idea writing him a letter. I'm sure he will really want to hear from you. If he was as gentle as you say, then he isn't going to just stop liking you after one bad night."

The car stops, and there's a delay before the door opens. A tall guy with curly hair, wearing olive green shorts and a white T-shirt steps out. My heart stops beating for a second. He puts a hand over his eyes as he looks up at the house.

"Uh, Izzy? Sorry, but I'm gonna have to call you back." I watch him walk slowly toward the door, and then I turn around, trying to make my brain work, my heart beat again.

"Oh, okay. Sure," she says quickly, clearly confused about this turn of events. "You're gonna be okay though?"

"Uh." It's hard to think straight, but I run to look in the mirror to make sure I don't look too messy. These aren't my most attractive clothes, but they'll have to do.

"Mandy?" Izzy asks.

"I think Michael is here," I say, and the reality of that statement sinks in. I breathe deeply.

"What?" Izzy is bewildered.

"Igotta go." I hang up the phone, a little guilty about throwing Izzy'scompassionate heart onto my bed. Then I run down the stairs.

Can you handle it? Let me know in the comments!