Dear Everett:
If you’re reading this, I’m dead.
Sorry, that’s probably not the best way to start off a letter to my best friend, after my sudden and horribly tragic death. You’ll surely never, ever be able to move on, because I was such an amazing person, but there it is. You know I’ve never been one to mince words. And while we’re on that subject, you’re an asshole.
It’s been four years since we’ve seen you. FOUR. I get it, believe me, I do. The first time I met you, when we were ten years old, you told me you wanted to be a doctor. For sixteen years I listened to you talk about how you wanted to do something with your life you could be proud of. We’re all proud of you, Everett. Proud that you accomplished what you set out to do, proud that you took charge of your life and made something of yourself. But you can’t stay away forever.
I don’t know what happened between you and Cameron the night you left, but I know she hasn’t been the same since. Neither one of us has. The Three Musketeers has been missing one of its members for four years, and if you aren’t here already, it’s time for you to come home.
Yes, I’m guilting you into coming home because I’m dead.
Finished.
Gone.
Never coming back from the Great Beyond.
Do you feel guilty yet? You should. Because Cameron misses you, even though she won’t admit it. I’ve tried my best to make her happy without you here. She puts up a good front about not giving a shit that you’ve been gone for so long, but I know she’s lying. She needs you now, more than ever. She needs you to get that stick out of your ass, suck up the reasons you’ve stayed away from us, and come home.
I’m not going to be there to make her laugh, wipe away her tears, or cheer her on when she does something amazing. I am officially passing the baton over to you. It’s your turn now. You’ve traveled around the world, you’ve saved lives, you’ve become a goddamn hero to strangers. Now it’s time to be a hero back here at home, where you belong. It hasn’t been the same without you. We haven’t been the same without you, and now that I’m gone, you can make it up to me by GETTING YOUR ASS BACK WHERE YOU BELONG.
And just so you know, I read your box of wishes. You know the ones we swore we’d never, ever read until we were all old and gray. Dude, I’m dead, so you can’t be pissed at me for that. But I am so pissed at you from beyond the grave for never telling me about that shit. I mean, I knew, of course I knew. I’m not blind or stupid. But all these years when I thought you were just being an idiot and refusing to admit how you felt, or figured you must have changed your mind and moved on, you were actually admitting everything to those fucking stars! I’m your best friend and you didn’t even tell me. Is that why you stayed away for four years? If it is, you’re an even bigger asshole than I thought. It’s time to stop wishing on those fucking stars every year and make your dreams come true by actually doing something about it.
Brace yourself, because I’m going to say a few things now that will make me sound like a pussy. Just remember, I’m doing this for you and I’m still a manly man.
I know what it’s like to look at a woman and, suddenly, everything makes sense.
I know how it feels to love someone so completely that you have no idea how you survived before her.
I’ve had that love returned tenfold, and even though I know I don’t deserve it, I’ve done everything I could to make sure I don’t fuck it up. You know, aside from the whole dying thing, but what can you do?
Don’t fuck this up, man. Cameron has been hurt enough. She’s going to be hurting even more after I’m gone and I need you to pick up the pieces and put them back together. I need you to give her everything I won’t be able to anymore.
I’m sorry I won’t be there to see Cameron kick your ass for staying away for so long. Be careful, she’s developed a mean right hook over the years. But go easy on her, man. She’s going to pretend to be okay, pretend like everything is fine and she’s fine and her whole damn life is fine…you know how she is. Always more concerned about everyone else than she is about herself. But she needs you now, more than ever.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was sick the last time we talked on the phone, but what would have been the point? It’s not like you could have done anything about it, aside from sitting here and watching me die. I don’t want you to remember me like this. It’s bad enough Cameron has to have this picture of me in her head for the rest of her life—I won’t do that to you, too. I want you to remember me as the devastatingly handsome, perfect specimen of man that I was. I want you to remember the good times, the laughter, growing up together at the camp, and me being full of life instead of confined to this fucking bed with barely enough energy to write this damn letter. Don’t you dare feel guilty about not being able to save me. I know you’re an amazing doctor, but sometimes, cancer wins.
Come home, Everett. Come home and finally do something about those wishes.
You can’t save me, but you can come home and save our girl.
Aiden