You Raise Me Up (Artemi Panarin)

3| Pen Pals

Valerie

I get up early in the morning and make myself some black tea. I had no work to do today and no doctors appointments so I was as free as a person who could get sick just looking at germs could get. So I wash up my cup and decide to jump in the shower to decontaminate myself. I wash my long blonde hair and do my face routine. If I was going to spend my life in front of the camera I better look decent so I tried to make myself look the best I could.

After that was all said and done I throw my hair into a messy bun and change into a Winnie the Pooh onesie. Childish, I know, but fun is a virtue around these parts and what's more fun to a person who can't leave their apartment than a onesie?

I go to sit on the couch and watch tv but stop when I see something inside my door. There was a white envelope laying there with my name in cursive on it. I pick it up and see that there was a piece of paper inside. I decide to sit down and see what was going on.

"Dear Valerie,

I know we exchanged numbers the other day, but I thought that maybe we could be pen pals. I know, it's cheesy, but it's more personal than texting and I think it's kinda cute. So since we can't always see each other we can pass notes along when we have the chance.

I'm not really sure what to say because I've never been in a situation like this. I mean I just moved to the other side of the world and I don't know a lot of things about this place. I imagine you haven't either since you've been sick your whole life. But who knows, maybe one day we will be able to see the city together. Experience some new things and you can see the world for the first time.

But if you can't that's okay too. I know you probably feel like a lot of people give up on you because you're sick, but I'm not one of those people. I actually think you're really cool and would like to get to know you better. We will be living next to each other anyway.

So if you think this is stupid you can just throw this away. If not, write something back and slip it under my door. I hope to hear from you soon.

Yours Truly, Artemi."

I smile big as a finish reading the paper. That was actually the sweetest thing I've ever read. Besides my family and my publicist I didn't talk to many people. Of course there's my doctors and Henry down stairs who I tutor every so often, but other than that I've never made real life friends. There's people I talk to online but those people come to me for help, not to get to know me. Artemi was making a real effort to get to know me and I was flattered to say the least.

I grab a pencil and a paper and start to get to work. The words flood out of me like they always do and not before long I was done.

"Dear Artemi,

Are all Russian people this nice or should I feel flattered? I'm not sure what to think because I'm not even all that sure how American people communicate. All I've ever know is what goes on inside my head and I promise you it's not anything like you know.

I guess I can start by kind of introducing myself. I lived in a small town in Indiana for the first part of my life. I was raised on the farm and loved helping raise the animals. We had them all, chickens, horses, pigs, you name it. I had two older brothers and they both loved living on a farm too. They got their own tractors and job working out there. It was a lot of good family times.

Then when I was in grade school, about 6 years old I got sick. Like, really sick. I collapsed in the middle of PE then woke up in a hospital. The doctors said it was pneumonia but it was more than that. There they ran a bunch of tests and determined I had a immunodeficiency disease and that meant my body couldn't fight off illnesses. I was sick a lot growing up, having grown up on a farm we passed it off as allergies. But they told me that it was something far worse than allergies and that if I wasn't careful I could die. Since what I have is a genetic mutation there's no cure, you can't fix genes. All you can do is treat it and the best way to fix something is to prevent it. And that's what they tried to do for me.

So my parents kept me home for a while, up until I was about 13. They kept the entire house freakishly clean and I was confided in there. It got lonely, not that my family wasn't amazing, they were, but it was hard. My only friends were my brothers and I saw the same ten people for a good portion of my life. For a while I couldn't have human contact and I couldn't be in the same room as someone else for extended periods of time. I quickly found myself secluded and had only myself to keep me company.

But that's where my story really began. I started writing, then writing turned into blogging. Turns out my life was a hit story and a lot of people were interested. They wanted to know how I was so fragile yet spoke so strong. How I was able to stay positive and be optimistic about my life even if I'm not able to live it.

So I took online courses and got a bachelors degree in psychology. I moved to Chicago two years ago and met with new doctors looking for a cure, something that hasn't been done with people who have what I have. But they were really set on helping me and I wasn't going to stop them. So I've been receiving chemo and bone marrow transplants for two years here now. Those plus the trial medication has kept me pretty busy. I have my own publicist who helps me with my business and other stuff I do to stay connected with the outside world. But that's basically it.

I know it sounds like it sucks, being stuck inside all the time. But I honestly don't mind it all too much. I kind of like it in here, especially now that I know one of the most genuine guys ever lives next door. I just hope that we can keep this up, it's fun to have something interesting happen to me and it doesn't end up with me in the hospital. I hope to hear from you soon.

until we meet again,
Valerie."

I slip the note under his door then almost immediately regret it. There's no way someone like him is going to be able to make such a effort to talk to me. I must have lost my mind.

I return to my apartment because it's not like I can get the letter back. I sit back down and let out a long breath. What am I doing?