Page 60 of String Boys

I love you

Get better.

Seth

KELLY RESPONDEDthe next day. And the next. And the next. It became a rhythm. Wake up and text Kelly. Lunchtime, check his phone. Right after class, check his email. If Kelly hadn’t written him back, he’d write him something anyway.

It got Seth through the summer, and a performance in which he knew there would be no friendly faces in the theater because his dad was working overtime, and Kelly…. Kelly didn’t say anything, but Seth hadn’t seen a lot of pictures outside his apartment.

He’d asked Kelly for pictures of his art, but Kelly had repliedNothing good to draw. It’s all horror movies here.

And Seth hadn’t known what to do about that.

He had his own horror movies. He understood. But he needed Kelly to not be living there anymore, and he wasn’t sure what to do from a hundred miles away.

His hands started to shake every time he checked the email, because he wasn’t sure what minefield of Kelly’s pain would be laid out in an email for Seth to stumble through.

He wasn’t sure what made him break. But in early September, something about Kelly’s last email did the trick.

Dear Seth—

So I watched that video you sent me a thousand times. Your performance was amazing, and I know you told me that the music was really hard and you didn’t have any time to learn it, but that’s not what I heard. I heard you make God cry with your violin, and I was so proud of you.

I think it’s funny that you have to work so hard to find words for all your letters. I wonder what you hear in your head when you’re going about your day. I hear words, all the time, telling me what I have to do and how I have to act and how I can not be weird and how I can not choke the crap out of my stupid brother.

And you hear emotions but no words. And all the emotions are in your instrument. I’m thinking you need to tape your practices more often, so it’s like I am there.

I liked watching that freaky movie with you and Amara. With the little video windows, I could watch you jump when you got scared, even though you were really quiet about it. I might have missed that little jump if we were together, unless we were touching.

I forget that you have reasons to be startled too.

Your dad came home sad again last night, and before he could turn on the TV, I texted my dad and suggested maybe a meeting. Lulu came down and watched our detective show with me while they were gone, and when our dads came back, your dad had ice cream.

I stayed the night on the couch, and he told me in the morning that I could crash in your bed anytime I wanted to.

I tell you, mijo, it was like I could smell you on the sheets.

I miss your touch. I miss seeing you smile. I send you pictures and we Skype, but it’s not the same as having you hug me and make it all better.

I was trying to tell the stupid rape counselor this the other day, and she got mad and said that I was supposed to be talking about my FEELINGS about being touched. And I told her that I WAS telling her about my feelings, because I WANTED to be touched.

By you. I wanted your hug so bad, I cried.

I can’t talk no more, mijo. Your dad is about to come home, and I know you’ve left the college and are trying to settle into the new place now. And I’ll be honest—I just can’t. If I was your violin, I’d be making all the oceans cry today, and you don’t need that.

I’ll write you again tomorrow, Seth.

Today is just too hard.

Kelly

SETH STAREDat his computer on a Friday afternoon and felt his heart thump in his throat. Kelly needed him.

So he went to the one person he knew could help.

“Sure,” Amara said, not even flinching when he went charging into her dorm room. The boys and girls were supposed to be off-limits from each other, but everybody knew they were besties and Seth didn’t try to grope or leer. He just came in to talk, so they treated him like a pet. Nobody cared if your dog saw you take your bra off under your T-shirt. He didn’t either.

“Sure what?” Seth asked, almost frantic.