LETTER NUMBER ONE:
Dear Emma,
Today, I met a girl.
Everything started out as it normally did: Mom was frying up some eggs for Bryant and right when I stepped into the kitchen, I heard the front door slam shut as Dad headed off to work. My feet took me over to the coffee machine where I made a cup that could, at the very least, would hopefully make me not want to crawl back into my burrow that was my bedroom and die.
I drink my coffee black now. I don’t really taste anything anymore. In fact, I don’t think I’ve tasted sugar since you’ve been away… which makes that six months since I’ve touched anything that contained saccharin, aspartame, acesulfame-k, or sucralose. If you were here, you’d probably be shoving those chocolate bars with nougats that you love at me in desperation.
But you’re not, so I’ll just carry on with my depressing coffee and cold, soggy oatmeal.
Bryant walked in right then, and Mom immediately dished up the fluffy, golden eggs onto a plate and pushed it towards him eagerly.
“Eat up, sweetie. Don’t want to run out of energy before practice, now would you?” Mom emphasized the word “practice” with pure joy. She was just ecstatic that Bryant was one of the star players on our high school’s football team whereas I, the kid leaning against the kitchen counter spooning mouthfuls of bland oatmeal into my mouth, wasn’t musically talented, athletically gifted, or extremely smart. I was just… there. It seemed.
Tugging my sleeves down a bit more, I rinsed out the bowl and the cup I was using with soap before placing them on the dishrack and heading upstairs.
School was the same as always. It looked the same, the people acted the same, and it just felt the same. You’re not missing much, really. Everyone walked around me all the same and everyone avoided eye contact with me all the same. It was torturously monotonous.
“Hello?”
I looked up and saw a small girl drowning in unnecessarily large clothing looking down on me. Her eyes were blue. They didn’t sparkle like yours, though. Nothing sparkled like yours.
“Yes?” I answered, truly confused as to why this girl was talking to me. I was situated by myself at the steps near the back of the school as I always was after school before we would walk home together. As an unconscious habit, I tugged down my sleeves a bit more.
Her face brightened at my response and she stuck out her frail hand for me to shake. “I’m Madison.”
I took it out of politeness and replied, “I’m Simon.” After an uncomfortably long pause, I asked, “So, what do you need… Madison?”
She did that thing that girls do when they sort of bite the side of their lips and it makes them look like they’re thinking really hard about something. “You’re a bit odd, aren’t you?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?” I was anything but odd. I was normal. Albeit I was a bit pessimistic, but normal nontheless. In fact, I was so normal that it sometimes upset me so much that it drove me to do incredibly stupid dangerous things. But that was another story for another time.
“Like the fact that you’re wearing long sleeves when it’s eighty degrees out. Don’t you feel the least bit hot?” She inquired curiously.
“No. In fact, I’m quite cold.” That was a lie. You probably knew it too. As we spoke, a light sheen of sweat layered my back from the heat. However, I was in no way going to explain why I did the stupid things I did. I never told anyone and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start then.
“Oh.” She furrowed her brows and did that lip-biting thing again while she stared at her scuffed sneakers in thought.
“Are you new here?” I asked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before.
Madison looked up before nodding her head quite vigorously. “Yes, yes I am. I’m sorry. I’m pretty bad at making new friends. I usually end up picking the more subdued people and become friends with them. They’re usually the more sensitive ones.”
I wouldn’t call myself sensitive. Perhaps, I am more anti-social than I thought. Perhaps, it wasn’t everyone that was avoiding me, but me avoiding them. It was an interesting thought. All the same, it didn’t do wonders for my currently fragile state of mind. “Well. I honestly don’t think I’d be much of a friend.” It was the truth. I wasn’t quite sure what you do with friends. Were we ever friends? I’d like to think we were.
She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows once more. Then, she shook her head. “No, I think you’d be a great friend, Simon.” It was odd hearing an unfamiliar voice say my name. My own birth mother hardly ever used it. The thought shot a pang of hurt through my chest. I tugged my sleeves down a bit more.
A car horn beeped. Madison turned her head towards the source of the sound and a flash of recognition crossed her face. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Simon. Bye.” She gave a small little wave. I gave her a little nod of acknowledgement and muttered “bye” under my breath as she walked away.
Soon after, I started trekking back towards my own home. Most of the trees’ leaves on the block had already turned into a myriad of colors ranging primarily in red, yellow, orange, and brown. It was nice to have something else to look at rather than my ratty, worn-out sneakers. When I got home, nobody was in the house. Nothing unusual. Mom was probably off shopping or cheering her beloved first-born son on at practice. Another pang of hurt shot through my chest. Checking the clock, I noted it was around four o’clock. Time for my afternoon shower.
Do you remember that? How I’d take a shower right when I got home from school? That I’d feel all grimy and disgusting and would prefer to just lounge around the house in sweatpants and a holey T-shirt? That part of my life hasn’t changed. Much.
I stepped into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. I saw me. The dark circles under my eyes stood out against my unnaturally pale skin. My unkempt mop of dark hair was settled on my head in a disheveled mess. I took off my shirt next, still staring into the mirror. And then, I turned my arms so my palms faced the mirror.
And laced across my arms were rows upon rows of scars.
Love,
Simon
