Chapter Ten - Tyler
I recognize it immediately.
The last letter I ever got from Maddie while I was deployed. The one I sent back unopened. The one with my handwriting on the back. Please stop sending me letters.
It’s still sealed, the words she wrote entombed inside. I have some idea what’s in here. She suggested a lot of things about it when she reminded me of its existence, the night we found out we’re us.
My hands are shaking, and I can’t pretend they’re not because the jittering of the envelope betrays me. I flick at the paper with my middle finger, and I don’t look up. Just keep staring at the hurtful and selfish thing I wrote, like if I stare hard enough the words themselves will start to mean something else.
“Shit,” I manage.
“Yeah,” she says.
After a moment I ask, “Should I open it?”
She shrugs. “Up to you.”
I nod and chew at the inside of my mouth.
“But, like I told you back on Halloween,” she says, “it’s a good one.”
She wears a half-smile that suggests she’s as nervous about me reading it as I am.
I continue to flick at the corner of the envelope, nodding my head ever so slightly all the while, like someone standing on the edge of a high dive, looking down into the water, deciding how they’re going to find the courage to jump.
And then, on a deep inhale—fuck it, I jump.
I slide my finger under the lip of the seal and rip a jagged tear along the seam. Looking up at Maddie, I can see no easily identifiable expression on her face. She’s caught somewhere between telling me to stop and breaking into a fit of nervous laughter.
When I reach inside, the paper catches on the corner that I didn’t completely sever with my finger and almost puts a rip in the letter itself. Which would be just fucking perfect. I stop tugging and reset my hands, like I’m performing delicate surgery. I rip away the rest of the offending corner and withdraw the contents, placing the envelope on the bed a foot from where Maddie sits, one leg crossed underneath her and the other dangling off the side.
It’s folded in perfect thirds. Almost as if she used a ruler to create the folds. Which, knowing Maddie, she very well may have. I lift the top flap and see her handwriting staring at me, the words “Dear Tyler” at the top. And for the first time in my thirty years on earth, it lands on me the way I suppose it’s intended. “Dear.” “Tyler.” Not “Hello, Tyler,” or “’Sup, Tyler?” but “Dear Tyler.” My dear Tyler. Huh. I never really processed that before.
I flip open the bottom third and then it’s just there. Staring me in the face. A page of words, sent to me by a friend in need, that I never bothered to read. I’ll bet these words never thought they’d see the light of day again. I’ll bet that when they found themselves being stuffed inside that shoe box they were like, “Well, that sucks. We’re good words. Somebody took the time to write us down and shit, and now here we are just being shoved in a dark fucking coffin never to get our shot at our job. Which is to make someone feel something.”
Because that’s all words are. Sounds that we put together to have an effect on another person. Like God/James Franco told me during the brief period I was in heaven: They don’t mean anything. Unless you give them meaning.
I wonder what meaning these words will have on me now that they’ve been set free?
Only one way to find out…
Dear Tyler,
Hi. It’s me. Maddie!
I hope that you’re well and safe, and that the other soldiers are being nice to you.
So listen, I’m writing because—as I’m sure you’re aware—we’re coming up on Scotty’s anniversary. That’s a shitty thing to call it, I know, because an anniversary usually implies something happy that you want to celebrate, but I really don’t have a better word for it. And I guess the idea that an anniversary has to be a happy thing is just something we made up anyway. People, I mean. Ugh. People. The worst. Amirite!? (LOL)
Anyway, I don’t know if you’ve gotten all the other letters I sent, because I haven’t heard back. It’s fine if you didn’t, they were mostly just, like, check-ins or updates about what’s going on here and stuff. A couple of them had little things I made tucked inside. (I know you always LOVED the potholders that I would make. LOL. But seriously, you should actually try crocheting yourself. I mean it. It’s super calming. It’s really helped me a lot this year. No kidding.)
I hope, if nothing else, you got the package I sent with the chain. I found this gold chain (don’t worry, it was fake, I paid like five bucks for it) that had a nametag on it that said, “Asshole.” I thought of you the second I spotted it! (LOL) So anyway, I hope you got that at least.
I’ve tried to call a bunch too and sent emails and stuff, but I can’t know for sure if you’re getting the messages or if the emails are getting lost on some government email server or something. And if that’s what’s happening, or if the letters and packages I’ve sent aren’t being delivered, I guess I’ll never know, but I’m sending this one because… Because I’m not doing so good, Ty.
Now, I don’t want you to freak out and come running back to Vegas on the next plane out of wherever you are right now just for me! (haha) I mean, I kind of do, of course, because it’d be awesome to see you, but I don’t want you to like worry about me doing anything bad to myself or anything like that. Because that’s not what I’m saying and that’s not what I’m about.
I just feel… sad. Like all the time. And there’s really nobody here who gets it or who I can talk to. You know how Mom and Dad are (they say hi, btw). They just kind of shove shit down and pretend everything’s okay all the time. Which, don’t get me wrong, I love them and I’m SO grateful they’re here. I don’t know what I’d do if they weren’t. Sometimes I feel like they’re the only thing keeping me together. So, I mean, I have them. Thank God. And that’s great. But they’re my parents, y’know? Not my friends.
And I don’t have a lot of friends, Ty. Now, I’m not throwing a pity party. (OH, WOE IS MADDIE. haha) No. None of that. It’s just true. I feel like I was starting to make a few friends in my first semester, but then… Y’know. And that kind of fucked all that up, so.
And it’s okay not to have a lot of friends, right? I think you feel that way too probably. I’ve always kind of thought we were the same that way. You don’t need a lot of friends when you’ve got one or two really good ones. Like how you and Scotty and Evan had each other. And, I guess, like how I had you guys too.
Because, I mean, that’s the thing. I know you probably didn’t feel this way because you’re older and a guy and stuff, so I don’t know if you ever noticed, but I always kind of saw myself as the fourth musketeer with you three. (Aramis or Porthos probably. I don’t think I’m Athos and you’re DEFINITELY D’Artagnan. LOL) But seriously, I don’t know if you saw how much I followed you guys around, but I did. Mom and Dad used to give me a hard time about it. Did I ever tell you that? They did. I think Mom was worried I was a lesbian or something. That’s why she was always shoving me in dresses and shit. I don’t know if you remember the time I asked for a fire hat for Christmas because you guys all had them, and she got me a Barbie Dream House instead. I know Scotty would remember because we set it on fire. (The box said it was flame-retardant, so we decided to see. I blame the manufacturer. Don’t claim that shit unless you can back it up.)
Anyway. I’m not a lesbian, btw! Like I am so totally not a lesbian. Not that it’s a bad thing or whatever, just… I’m not one. I just want to make that clear. That’s all.
Because…
Shit. I’ve tried to write this like three times and each time I scratch this part out and throw it in the trash. I’m only telling you that because my wrist is getting tired and I’m running out of stationery and I don’t want to do it again, so I feel like maybe giving that disclaimer will help me just write it this time and not scratch it out or throw it away.
So.
Okay.
Here goes.
Because here’s the thing…
And I know this will sound crazy! Okay!? Let’s just get that out of the way right now! I’m not stupid! And I know that feelings are just feelings and they come and go and that you grow up and stuff and when you do things change and whatever. I know that.
But mine haven’t. Changed, I mean. I’m nineteen now and I still feel exactly the same way I did when I was nine. And that’s ten years. That’s more than half my life. That’s a long time. Half your life, I mean.
So the point is that when I say this, when I tell you what I’m about to tell you, don’t think it’s just because I’m feeling needy, or because I’m lonely, or because of what happened to Scotty, okay? Because I’m not. Okay? I’m not.
I’m really, really not. This is really how I feel and it’s real.
I love you.
Like, I love you, Tyler.
I always have. Ever since I was a little kid, and a then a middle-sized kid, and then a big kid, and now, as like, a grownup-type person.
I love you.
And I hope that doesn’t weird you out or send you running. Because that’s the last thing I want to do. THE LAST THING.
I just wanted you to know so that whenever it is you finally come back (you are coming back, right? haha)—whenever that is, I want you to know… I’ll be here. I mean, I don’t want to presume that you feel the same way or have you think that I expect anything of you, because I don’t. I really don’t. But I just needed you to know. Because it’s been really, really hard this last almost year. And one of the things that’s gotten me through is thinking I’ll see you again.
And look, if this sounds crazy because it’s been, y’know, like six years since we’ve seen each other… I get that. It sounds crazy to me too. But just because something’s crazy doesn’t mean it’s not true. It’s not a lie. It’s just… a lot.
So.
I hope this letter finds you, and if it does, just know that it would mean THE WORLD to me to hear from you. Anything. Just any small thing letting me know that you’re okay and that you’re keeping your head up. Because, even though it’s hard—trust me, I know it’s hard—that’s where I’m keeping mine.
I’ll be looking for you.
Ever and always yours,
Maddie