RJ #4
Once I’ve gathered up the letters, I slip them into my satchel.
I’m going to give them to her somehow, someday.
She has to know that even though the universe is determined to keep us apart, I still feel all the things I felt for her.
I still want to lie in the grass with her as long as she’ll sit with me.
I’m still desperate to bask in the sun, near enough to mine her thoughts.
When I open my door, Delilah is standing there with too much sunscreen on, sunglasses, a polka-dot hat, and matching polka-dot heels.
“Go change clothes.” I sigh.
She puts her hands on her hips and follows me, staggering in her shoes. “Mom said I was in charge. This is what I’m wearing.”
“I’m sure that’s not what she meant.”
She tugs at my bag. “What’s in there?”
I pull away. “Just stuff I might do while I’m out there.”
“You mean to write?” she whispers loudly, and I wait for my father to run out of his room screaming.
But he doesn’t. He is not here. Today is not that sort of nightmare.
I force Lilah to talk to Mom, and she changes into denim shorts and a tee with tennis shoes.
Much more appropriate for the lake. It does mean, however, that she’s sullen the entire car ride.
When we get there, I take her duck-feeding and I race her a few times through the grass.
I let her win, because she likes that. Then, when she’s taking a dip in the lake, I pull out my journal pages and pen another note to Jules about how being here isn’t the same without her.
The sun doesn’t glow as warm or shine as brightly.
The water is too cold, and the birds are too loud.
Then I add it to the stack, tied with twine and a single jade bead. I find a good spot beneath the maple tree where we used to hang and leave them there, covering them up a bit with some dirt and a rock so they don’t blow away.
“What’s that?” Lilah sneaks up behind me, and I yelp.
“Nothing, nosy. Are you ready to go?”
She reaches for the papers, and I jump in her way.
“Lilah, please.”
“Is this about that girl?”
I fold my arms.
“And why shouldn’t I tell Mom?”
“It’s like the bakery, Lilah. Sometimes our parents are wrong. They hate this girl because of her last name. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
“She’s a Marlo.”
“You’ve been brainwashed, too, then.”
She rolls her eyes.
“If you’ve ever trusted me on anything, trust me with this.”
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I’ve never felt like this before.”
My sister walks off.
After we return home, two days pass, and my parents don’t mention the letters I left at the lake. Lilah kept my secret. Getting my little sister a bakery is quickly becoming one of the best decisions I ever made.
Three more days pass.
Lilah and I visit the lake again.
The letters are gone. But there isn’t a response or note back.
Another day goes by.
And another.
Another.
The next time Lilah asks to go to the lake, I cover my head with my pillow and refuse. It’s no use. Jules has forgotten me or moved or something. Lilah leaves me with a strawberry cream cupcake to wallow. I lie in bed for what feels like days.
Until one day, I hear a pebble at my window in the middle of the night.
I rush over, blinking to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Jules is standing outside, below my window, in a wispy white dress. Her hair is braided over her shoulder. She’s put flowers around her head in a crown. I pull the window open.
“Jules?”
“I got your letters!”
“You did?”
“A mysterious cupcake delivery arrived with a note inside the cake saying Meet at our spot. I almost swallowed it. When I showed up at the lake, I found them under the maple.”
My eyes burn with tears.
“I was waiting for you to find me,” she says. “It was killing me not knowing what happened to you. And I realized, why am I waiting? You took the risk the first time and found me. Can’t I do the same?” She pulls a bouquet of weeds and a letter out of her bag.
“I wrote this for your parents. It’s from both of us. It explains that we don’t want any part in their rivalries. We don’t want any part of their mess. We want to follow our hearts and believe in love.”
I don’t know what to say.
“I’ve already left the same letter for mine. Maybe, in time, they’ll see that hate is too great a burden to bear.”
“Jules.” I blink, but she’s still there. “You told them—”
We’re running away together, she thinks. She tosses the letter up. I read it.
“You’re serious.”
“You always say you can’t stand up to your parents for what you want. This is your chance. Say yes.”
I shift on my feet. My heart thunders as I glance back at my room and the footprints of the lifeless existence I’ve had for a month. This moment is the most alive I’ve felt in weeks.
I love him, she thinks, and my heart skips a beat. I’ve missed being in her head. And I know he loves me.
“I do, Jules. I do love you.”
“Then come with me. Let’s go now, just us. Let’s find another lake with a nice tree somewhere outside Boston where there are no Marlos and no Vales! Let’s claim this one life we have. Say yes!”
This is either the most reckless decision I’ve ever made or the bravest one.
I take a minute to pen my own letter to my parents.
One I should have written years ago. I add it to Jules’s and close it in an envelope and write my parents’ names on the front.
Then I climb down the trellis, scoop Jules off her feet, and press my mouth to her lips.