Page 33 of The Fire Between High & Lo (Elements 2)

Dad wrote me a letter today!

My excitement built more and more as I raced to the kitchen, snatched the envelope which wasn’t sealed shut, and pulled out the paper.

Sweet Aly,

Already off to a promising start.

My eyes danced across the pages from the left to the right, taking in each word, each note, wanting nothing more than a line that mentioned how much he missed me, how much he loved me, how much he cared. There were so many words, so many pages. Pages filled front to back, pages filled with some words that were long, others so short. There were periods, question marks, and exclamations points.

He had wonderful handwriting that was sometimes hard to read.

My chest was on fire with each letter I came across, letters building words, words building sentences, sentences building apologies, apologies that felt fake because who could do this for real?

I won’t be around much.

I took a sharp breath, reaching the final paragraph.

My music is taking off. I’m the lead of this new band.

Another sharp breath.

Focused on my career…

My thumb fell between my lips. When I hit the final page of the letter, I set it down, staring at five pieces of paper completely filled with words front and back.

I won’t be around much, Sweet Aly. I hope you understand. Keep the music alive.

My father broke up with me through five pages of paper, and when the meatless meatloaf came that night, Mom said, “I told you so.”

I couldn’t eat. I spent most of the night in the bathroom, throwing up my insides. I couldn’t believe a person could do something so heartless. He wrote the words as if they actually made sense to him, too, which made me even sicker.

I spent the rest of the night on the bathroom floor, debating what I did wrong, and wondering why my father didn’t love me anymore.

***

“He broke up with you through a five-page letter?” Logan asked, shocked. I spent the past five days away from him, feeling embarrassed by the letter. Each day I could hardly keep anything in my stomach without it coming back up. What bothered me the most was how pleased Mom seemed that Dad let me down. She always seemed happy that I was hurting.

I sat with Logan at the billboard, knowing the five-page paper by heart. “Technically he broke up with me through ten pages since they are front and back.”

“Give me the envelope,” he ordered. His nostrils were flaring, his face red with anger. I didn’t know he’d get so upset by the letter, but he seemed on the edge from snapping.

“Why?”

“The address he sent the letter from, that’s probably where he lives. We can go there. We can confront him, we can—”

“There wasn’t an address on the envelope. He dropped it at the house I think, in the mailbox.”

His hands ran over his face. A weighted sigh left him. He began flipping through the pages once more. “What about the name of the band he’s in? Did he say?”

“No.”

“This is bullshit.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. It hadn’t hit me yet. A big part of me still thought he was coming back. Hope was dangerous when you were relying on unreliable people. “I’m over it.” I wasn’t though. I was far from over it.

“Well I’m not!” he shouted, standing up, pacing back and forth. “It’s not fair. What have we ever done to these people? Your parents. My parents. What have we done wrong?”

I didn’t have an answer for him. Many people probably couldn’t understand why Logan and I connected. We were different in so many ways, except for the one which was the biggest fire that burned in us: we both longed to be loved by our parents.