Eden

 

I was tormented. The presence of one little slip of paper was ruining my life. And now there were two. That’s right. When I got home from work a little after four that afternoon, on my bed in the same place as last week, there was another letter. I’d spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the thing before lunging at it and stuffing it in the drawer beside its predecessor.

Then, I set about forgetting about either of them. A bath. Hours in front of the television. I’d even baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

It didn’t mean anything that those were his favorite.

Ugh!

Why now?

What was Dylan playing at?

And most importantly- what did he say?

No! I shook my head.

I didn’t care.

I swear, I didn’t.

So, why couldn’t I sleep?

Why couldn’t I stop obsessing.?

I thought about Mrs. Timmons and the story she’d told earlier at the salon. Hers was the stuff of dreams, wasn’t it? A handsome older man- a soldier no less. A sassy younger girl unwilling to give up on her man.

A happily ever after.

With a sigh, I flipped on the tiny lamp on my bedside table and opened the offending drawer. The one that contained the offending letters.

Had I given up too easily? Did I let Dylan go too quickly? But then, why should I have been the only one to fight for our relationship? Wasn’t he responsible, too?

All this angst was driving me crazy!

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled the two letters out of the drawer. Two letters sent exactly a week apart. With a finger under the sealed flap, I opened the envelope. Two slips of paper drifted out, settling on my blanket covered lap.

Tears stung my eyes as I lifted one to examine it more closely. I recognized it. It was different now than when I sent it that day. Instead of crisp white, the edges were curled and dirty like it had been handled often, kind of like the receipts my dad kept in his wallet until my mom finally emptied them out.

I read the words, written in my own handwriting.

I hate you, Dylan Coulter!

 

My heart ached today just as it did then when I’d penned the words and, enfolding them in an envelope, sent them to the man who’d broken my tender heart.

Wondering why he would send my own letter back to me, I picked up the other paper he’d enclosed. It was a sheet of plain stationary about the size of an index card. Only two little words had been written on it.

 

I’m sorry.

 

Really?

Tears streamed down my face as I revisited the bonfire idea from last week.

Seriously?

After all this time, that’s all I got? I’m sorry. No explanation. No declaration. I crumpled the paper with his words on them and tossed it across my room. The one I’d written, however, I decided needed to be front-and-center. Tossing back my covers, I crossed my room to the bulletin board hanging above my desk. With a bright pink push pin, I tacked the paper to it. That’s right. I hate you, Dylan Coulter!

Shaking my head with disgust and anger, I marched back to my bed and made myself comfortable once more. And then I remembered the second envelope. Did I have the energy to deal with another one? Who knew two little words could be so exhausting? Reaching for the envelope, I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my tattered nerves. I opened the envelope and removed a slip of paper identical to the one I’d just read and crushed.

 

Ed, please forgive me.

 

What did that even mean? Forgive him. For what? And how dare he call me ‘Ed’? Anger built in my chest as I lifted the sheet of paper to my nose. It was just a trace, but his scent was there, clinging to the page like I’d clung to my hope for all those weeks I’d sent Dylan letters only to have him ignore them. Well, we’d just see how he liked it because it would be a chilly day in Hades before I responded to that jerk.

I hated Dylan Coulter!

 

One week later.

 

This was getting ridiculous!

“Is that from Dylan,” Mom asked from inside the refrigerator. “Leftovers okay?”

“Sure,” I answered absently. I found this letter on the kitchen counter. Obviously, she wanted to talk about it or she would have just tossed it on my bed like the other two.

“Eden?”

“Huh?” I glanced up, distracted.

She gestured to the letter still clutched between my fingers. “Is that from Dylan? How’s he doing? I didn’t know you two were writing letters again.” A small smile curved her lips.

I hadn’t realized she’d tracked the fact that Dylan and I exchanged letters back then. “Um, not really. He just sent me a couple. I haven’t responded.”

Mom’s smile slipped into a frown. “Why not? I’m sure he could use some support right now.”

What? I focused more fully on her face. There was a sadness in her eyes. What did that mean? “What do you mean ‘support’?”

“Well, you know, after everything that happened.” Mom propped her hip on the counter as she watched me, a perplexed expression on her face.

“Everything that happened? What are you talking about?” I mentally scanned through all the conversations I’d had with anyone about Dylan for the last couple of months and realized I hadn’t talked to his mom in a long time. I hadn’t seen Hazel or Reed, either. Had I missed something? Was Dylan okay? A shiver of fear raced up my spine. “What are you talking about,” I repeated.

“Honey, where have you been? Haven’t you talked to Josh?”

“Mom, I haven’t talked to Josh about Dylan in months. Just tell me.” I gripped her arm.

Mom took a deep breath, her expression more serious than I’ve seen it in forever. “I just don’t know how you haven’t heard-”

“If you don’t just tell me right now, I’m gonna-”

“Eden, Dylan’s been in an accident-”

The room began to spin. I gripped the edge of the counter to keep myself from falling. My mom kept talking but I only heard snatches.

“Training exercise...parachute….didn’t open...hospital,” Mom paused and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay, sweetie? You look pale.”

“How- how could no one have told me? Is he okay? Is he still in the hospital?” I couldn’t believe this.

“No, honey, he’s-”

“No, he’s not okay? Or no, he’s not still in the hospital,” I interrupted, irritated with the lack of details I was getting from her.

“Hang on, Eden. You better sit down. Let me get you a drink.” I let her lead me to a stool at the kitchen island. She turned away to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and even opened it before handing it to me.

“I’m sorry. I would have talked to you about this sooner, but I thought for sure Josh had talked to you. He said he was going to.” Mom shook her head like she couldn’t believe what was happening.

I could relate. “Mom, please. Tell me what happened.”

She sat beside me on another stool. “Dylan was in California doing some kind of training. Paratrooper or something. I’m not familiar with that stuff. But I guess when he jumped out of the plane, his parachute malfunctioned, and it didn’t open when it was supposed to. He did get it to open but it was late in the jump, he had too much momentum and hit the ground hard.”

“Oh, no.” Every part of me crumbled. “Is he-”

“He’s okay, Eden. At least, he’s alive. I’m sure he doesn’t think he’s going to be okay, but he is. His left leg was crushed when he landed. I can’t remember how many screws and plates they had to use to fix it, but he was in surgery for a long time.”

Relief waged a war with despair. Dylan!

“He’s going to be honorably discharged. His leg won’t ever be the same again.” Mom’s face was filled with sorrow. Dylan was like her own son. She hadn’t always been the workaholic she was now. When Josh and I were little, she stayed home and was a full-time mom. She didn’t start working outside the home until I was in middle school.

“He won’t be in the Army anymore?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around that. It was all Dylan ever wanted, to be a soldier. What would he do now?

Mom shook her head. “No.”

“Will he- can he- walk?” Oh, Dylan!

“Yes, he’s in physical therapy. They’re waiting until he is a little better before he gets discharged and making it, so he will have the care he needs once he gets out.”

I nodded but sat silently after that. I needed some time. Time to process what I’d just learned. Mom stayed beside me, her hand rubbing my arm. Finally, she rose from her seat.

“I’ve got to go. Are you going to be okay?”

Glancing up, I met her concerned gaze. “Yeah, I am. It’s just a lot to take in.”

She rubbed my arm one last time. “It is. I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about this sooner.”

What could I say to that? Nothing.

Mom turned to leave then stopped. “Here. Don’t forget this.” She held out the envelope with the familiar writing on the outside.

My hands shook almost uncontrollably but I took it. Instead of turning away like I expected her to, Mom stood there watching me.

“Eden, I don’t know what’s up with you and Dylan-”

“Nothing-”

She held up her hand to stop me. “And I guess at this point it’s none of my business. But I hope you’ll reach out to him. I think he could use a friend.” And then she was gone.

Leaving me alone. With a letter I had no idea how to feel about.