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Member
Join Date: Apr 2008
Gender: Female
Posts: 3
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Letter #1
Dear Molly,
I still remember that time Andy Patterson walked up and kissed you dead on the mouth. I was so upset over that, so angry. Not at you. I could never have been angry at you. And I was so young; I didn't know what to do with myself. I'd had bumps and bruises before, but it was new for me that my heart was hurting.
I always felt like he did that just to make me mad. Reading that probably hurt you a little, because you liked that kiss, and I know you did. It wasn't meant to hurt your feelings, honest. Nothing I could ever say would be meant to hurt you. When I said I never would, I meant it.
I cried on the bus ride home that day. And kids made fun of me, because "boys aren't supposed to cry." Bullshit. I cried.
For almost a year, I'd waited. I wanted to find the perfect moment. It would have been soon, but Andy took it away from me like that. He liked it that way. He loved it. He didn't love you.
I'm sorry I wrote that. But I won't erase it. It's the way I feel, and I do believe it's the truth.
I had so much planned out in my mind. We were only kids then, but you were my girl. You were, even though you didn't know it yet. I wanted that kiss more than Andy Patterson. I wanted that memory; that place in yours. And after that day, I fell asleep every night wondering if things would have been different if I'd had the guts. I still wonder sometimes. Maybe you wonder, too.
Love always,
Brendan
Dear Molly,
I didn't get a reply to my letter. It's okay though. I don't think I want one. And I didn't write the letter to receive something in return. I just missed you. I just miss you.
It's been a little over seven months, Molly, since you left. I've been counting the days. You probably think that's pathetic. It probably is, but that's okay with me.
I was thinking earlier, and I've known you for about six years now. To me, it seems like much longer. There was a time when I felt like I knew every part of you. I hope that hasn't changed. I hope I still do. I'd really like that.
I think my last letter may have been too harsh. I'm sorry I brought up Andy. I just couldn't get it off my mind, and I figured I'd let you know. That's what we used to do. We used to tell each other everything.
You were my best friend; I hope you know that. All those times we'd sit on your bed listening to music. And you'd sing. God, you had the prettiest voice I'd ever heard. You were the prettiest thing in the world to me. I remember thinking that, I do.
That was the day you told me you loved talking to me. And that meant a lot, because I really loved listening. And you hugged me on my way out the door. It was raining, but I was warm the entire walk home.
And when I got there, you called me to talk some more. And right then I was yours for the taking.
Love always,
Brendan
Dear Molly,
Do you remember that night under the bleachers, when we were all getting high and Kevin was drunk? I think that was one of the best nights of my life. The drugs weren't the issue; they were actually pretty stupid. But you made it so much better than that.
Kevin kept stumbling and laughing like an idiot, but he was your brother so we thought it was cool. And we laughed with him because we were way out of it. We sat and told stories to each other, and half of them probably weren't even true, but they were still the best stories in the world. I think Kev threw up in the grass because he missed the trash can, and everyone else just took pictures on their cell phones. Memories were memories, stoned or sober.
I still have this picture of you from that night. You were so beautiful.
Kev let you drink vodka out of his Pepsi bottle, and you were a little tipsy by the time everyone else was sober enough to head home. I think, "a little tipsy," is an understatement. I remember you couldn't stand up straight, and you were stoned out of your mind on top of the alcohol. I asked Kevin if he could take us home, but he said it wasn't smart for him to drive and called his friend to come get him. He told us to walk, because it wasn't that far away and there wasn't enough room in the truck.
I don't think Kev realized that you and walking weren't good friends at the moment, but I didn't say anything. I just promised him I'd get you home safe. You almost fell I don't know how many times, but I caught you every time. And after a while, I just took you by the arm to keep you balanced.
About half-way to your house, you said you had to stop because if you kept walking, you'd get sick. "If I don't sit down, I'll puke."
You were blunt, and it was so cute. Just the way you didn't care.
You collapsed in the grass by the sidewalk on the corner of Carter and Pine. You ran the palms of your hands over your face and around your eyes, and you looked so drained. By the time you wrapped your arms around your legs and buried your head in your knees, I needed to ask if you were alright. And you just looked up and said you were. "In fact, this has been the best night I've had in a long time."
I couldn't help but smile, because your face was wet from your tears and your mascara was smeared under your eyes. Your hair was blowing all around your face. It occurred to me then that you're just as pretty when you're inebriated as when you aren't.
I got up and reached out a hand, and you took it so we could keep walking. You were still stoned, so I took out the only cigarette I had left from the few Kev gave me and lit it up for you. We were almost to your house, and I thought it might calm you down enough to fool your parents. I never thought about it until now, but it must have worked.
Your doorstep was bright from the porch light, and you turned to look at me when we got to your front door. I smiled at you; you were glowing. You put the cigarette out on the banister, and threw it in the bushes, and I could tell you hated the taste, but it made you feel so good.
"This was the best night in a while for me, too," I said. And you smiled because I'd paid attention to something you'd said and you knew it. I paid attention to every word.
I was still high, but I had no more cigarettes, so I just figured I'd walk it off on my way home from your house. You were just so pretty in that artificial lighting that I didn't want to think about tomorrow or school or how I'd get past my parents like that. I focused on you and the way your eyelashes fluttered when you blinked. It was perfect.
So I took one step up your porch to reach you, and I pulled you into me. And at the moment I wasn't thinking of having the guts or Andy Patterson or any other boy you may have kissed. I felt like my kiss, that kiss on your porch, was your first real kiss; your first kiss that meant something. And even though we were both at least partially intoxicated, nothing about that moment was blurry for me. It was the clearest thing I knew. I think it still is.
We were in the ninth grade then, and at the beginning of high school, I found a few girls that were interested in me and settled because I thought it was all I could do. So, that wasn't my first kiss either, the kiss on your front porch, but God, I wish it was. Those other girls were nice, but they weren't you.
When our lips separated and you looked into my eyes, I knew it was okay. You liked that kiss and I knew you did. So you smiled, and I did back. And you said, "Goodnight."
And when you hugged me, you coughed in my ear, probably from the cigarette smoke in your lungs. You coughed, and it was the nicest sound I'd heard all night, because it was your mouth so close to my ear. And that was enough for me.
I went home that night and slept peacefully for the first time in months.
Love always,
Brendan
Dear Molly,
I was lying awake last night thinking of you. I'm not going to give you some cheesy line about how I do that every night, because I don't, and I think you know me well enough to know that. But on occasion, at night while I'm trying to fall asleep, you do cross my mind and you tend to keep me awake.
And I will tell you, Molly, that sometimes when I'm walking down the hall at school, or when I turn a corner in my house, I have to stop because I feel you or I hear you. Sometimes I even smell you. That's probably really strange of me to say, but it's true, and I'd never lie to you. I never have. But you have that scent; that distinct fragrance that I'd know a mile away. I always loved that smell; the smell of your old house and laundry detergent. It doesn't sound very nice, but it is, and I'd kill to smell it again, on you. Not just a remnant, but the real thing.
And yeah, sometimes I hear you laugh, too. Like when I used to tickle you in my room and you'd giggle like a child until I stopped. And I always stopped, but only because I was laughing so hard, too. It was the cutest laugh I'd ever heard, and I always mimicked you and made fun of it. I teased you about it because I loved it. I hope you knew that. I think you did, because when I mocked you, you just laughed harder. I miss that so much.
And sometimes, when I'm walking, and I'm alone, I feel you behind me. And I always turn around hoping you'll be standing there, but you never are. Those are the times that really get to me. Because you feel so close until I realize you're so far away.
Love always,
Brendan
__________________
"The carbon footprint of a single human being is enormous. If you think about it, your honor, I'm an environmentalist."
Last edited by dearmolly : 04-01-2008 at 09:29 PM.
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