After placing the prism in the window, Madeline looked around her bedroom. Truly looked. The coloring books on her desk were now replaced with a laptop and stack of novels and notepads. Her princess bedding was now replaced with pale green. Pink walls replaced with yellow. A box of toys replaced by a box of keepsakes. Minus a modest collection of stuffed animals on the top shelf of her closet. Nothing lingered of her childhood; the last time she'd seen Elijah Fox. Everything was erased except the memories. She wouldn't lose those. Refused to lose them.
Madeline's fingers took their time roaming the outside of the envelope, knowing his own hand had touched it not long ago. And she could feel it. That small piece of him having not yet dissolved from the piece of paper. She closed her eyes, trying to commit this feeling to memory.
Then she drew the top flap out and pulled the piece of paper out as tenderly as she could, as if she were charged with handling an artifact.
Maddie,
I'm writing to you a week before your high school graduation, and I'm not sure if I'll have the courage to be there to see you walk across that stage to get your diploma. If I do find the courage, I know I won't be close enough to see you as clearly as I do in my head, because to do that, you'd see me, and I'm not ready for that.
I've never looked you up on social media, because I know once I do, I'll see all the time I missed in your life, and be ashamed. Or worse, tempted to reach out. I made a promise to myself years ago not to be in your life unless I could be all in (on the off chance you want or need me to be), because you don't deserve small pieces of someone, and that's all I could give you while my dad's alive and living next door to you.
Maybe when you've started your own life somewhere, I'll come looking for you. Then again, it might be too late. I've always hoped for you to outgrow and move on from your first best friend. For you to have found your own place in life uninterested in looking back. It's the same hope I had for myself, but it never worked out.
Already, Madeline's tears were raining down, and she held the paper further from herself so as not to contaminate it. She'd tried finding him on social media so many times throughout the last couple of years, using different variations, but she never found him.
At this point, she'd take any amount of him he was able to give. Even if just a phone call in the middle of the night that only lasted a few minutes. Because, although she'd made friends, and even had a boyfriend now, Madeline had never moved on. Not completely. She'd made it appear like she had, bringing up Elijah just a little less around her parents, after growing exasperated of seeing that look of worry in their eyes.
Elijah could hope all he wanted to, but she never had and never would outgrow him. Maybe she had found her own place in life, or was at least working on it, but that wouldn't stop her from looking back. Looking for him. Holding onto those memories.
I still wake up from the nightmares nearly every night. The screams. The punches. The slams against walls. So many other things that happened to me that I made sure you never knew about. When I'm asleep, I'm still that kid wondering when he'd finally put me in an early grave. When I do wake up, I go outside to find the North Star. Knowing you're out there, safe and happy, is enough to calm my nerves.
It'll seem like a line, but I promise you it's not. I left as much for you as I did for myself. He was pushing me over the edge and into insanity. There were so many times I was ready to snap. I'd walk into his bedroom with a baseball bat or a knife while he was passed out, and I knew I had it in me to kill him. The anger he had for the world was beginning to spill into me, and I couldn't let you be around that.
You may have been little when I left, but you were, and still are, in a way, my best friend. When you have that sort of love for someone, you'd do anything to keep them safe.
I can picture you in my mind sometimes. Not the little girl I left, but a young woman on the edge of adulthood. You've grown into your hair, making it flow rather than looking like it was attacking you. The smile that once took over two thirds of your face is now more delicate, but no less genuine. Your eyes are the same, though. Still big, and sparkling, and showing every emotion you feel. I don't know how much my image of you reflects reality, but it doesn't need to.
I'm not as angry as I once was, or as unhappy, but there's still times, even when I'm awake, where I feel like that kid ready to snap. Picturing you, either as who I remember, or who my mind created, calms me enough to push through. That, and boxing. Without those two things, I'd probably be in prison right now.
Even if I'm not your best friend anymore, which again, I hope I'm not, know that you're still mine and always will be. No one's gotten into my head or my heart like you, because children have this thing about them where they don't take 'no' for an answer. They don't let you hide from them, and they see so much more than we give them credit for. Nothing can be brushed under the rug and ignored.
Adults are easier to fool, and I did well at that. Still do. My friends look at me like I'm this whole person, because I'm good at faking it. I'm good at hiding my past from them. Honestly, I don't know any other way. But if I don't let them close enough to see the real me, then it's barely a real friendship. That, M&M, is why you're still my best friend. A win by default is still a win.
Tell your parents I love them, and miss them every day. Let them know I'm doing well enough, and made sure the money they saved up for me lasted a good, long time. Also, tell your dad that the car still runs, but it's on its last leg.
Anyhow, I couldn't let today go by without you knowing that I still do think about you, and you still do matter. I'm sure my silence made you question that, but it's the truth. Congratulations on being a high school graduate. I miss you.
-E
She read it again, and then a third time, before bending the paper at the exact crease it already had, and returning it to the envelope. She could have a thousand friends, but he'd still be the best one she ever had.
At the sound of a light tap against her open door, Madeline glanced up to see her mom standing there with glossy eyes. "Am I allowed to read that, or is it personal?"
She could see how much her parents missed Elijah, even after all the years that had passed. So much so that she never told them about the letter given to her by her teacher written by him five years before she received it.
But since her parents already knew of this one's existence, and it wasn't filled with anything they weren't allowed to know, Madeline slid the envelope to the edge of her bed. "How do I still miss him this much?"
"Because he was the first person outside this family who you connected to and cared about. That sort of thing sticks with you." Her mom picked up the envelope and held it against her chest. "Claire and Marty came over to pick you up for a party. I told them to give you a call in a little while."
"Probably for the best," Madeline agreed. "I think I'm going to need awhile after reading that."
Her mom gave her a sad smile. "Thanks for the warning."