Brushstrokes and Keys

25 April 1998

Dear Sam,

I’ve spent two hours trying to come up with a better, cleverer opening than “Dear Sam,” and—well, you can see how that turned out. Still, I was so glad when you gave me your email and said we should keep in touch. The whole cake incident had me on the ropes for a while, wondering if you still considered me a friend. If you’ll let me, I’d like to clear my name—or at least soften the charges.

Just before the song, I overheard Drew and Chase talking about how they’d spiked the punch with tequila. In the middle of a heated argument, and against my better judgment, I slugged Chase. The cake was just an unfortunate bystander. I know that’s no excuse, but maybe it wins me a few points with the jury?

Call me a coward, but I couldn’t risk a goodbye met with cold indifference. So I decided to leave without seeing you. Imagine my surprise when I saw you talking to my mum—I mean, I was happy. I didn’t say much when we were together, but your smile told me we were still okay.

I hope you liked the present. And if you have the time, I’d love to hear from you.

Dan

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16 May 1998

Dear Dan,

I’m sorry it took this long to get back to you—things have been rather hectic since you left. All is forgiven; at least now I can tell the story of my 18th birthday with an exaggerated absurdity that makes people wish they had been there. The bystander survived for maybe another hour before meeting its end at the mouth of my little brother and his friends, so you’re pardoned of confectionery murder.

Woodlands must seem quiet and far away now, with the lights of Paris all around you. I hope all your dreams come true—the whole town does. I was really touched by the diary—it’s the one we saw at Eddy’s Books last Christmas, right? How did you get it engraved? It’s beautiful. Thank you!

Have you started with the apprenticeship yet? What’s it like learning from someone famous? We all miss hearing you play, but I know you’ll be better for having gone. The piano is your calling; I just wish I could find mine.

Hope to hear from you,

Sam

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29 June 1998

Dear Sam,

I meant to write you as soon as I read your email, but everything’s moving so fast, and each day brings something new I want to share with you. So, for a more complete picture, I waited—until I couldn’t wait any longer. I asked Pierre about it, and he said something about how a picture is never complete so long as the brush is still stroking. He can be a bit philosophical at times.

I’m glad you liked the diary and hope it’s nearly full—your imagination needs the page just as my fingers need the keys. Please believe that. The days here are shorter; time slips away if it’s not made the most of. Everyone is rushing to become someone, and all the pride I had as Woodlands’ finest vanished the moment I heard the other pianists at the academy. Still, I’ll be the better for it—I’ll trust your words.

Pierre says, “You show promise. Let’s hear it again—light fingers.” Then, after a mistake: “No, no, no, Monsieur, encore.” He’s a perfectionist—the good kind, the kind that teaches you mistakes are building blocks, not hindrances. I like him.

I’ll be having my first recital on the 20th of July, scrutinised by five instructors and six peers. It’s a daunting thing, to be tested in what you love, but I pray I’ll come out as gold.

Have you decided which university you’ll attend and what you’ll pursue? You’ll be great at anything, but for what it’s worth, I could never tire of reading anything you write.

Dan

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5 October 1998

Dear Dan,

You must think the worst of me for not having written in so long, but things have been moving so fast to the point of confusion. Firstly, you’ll be glad to hear that I started at the Great Hall, majoring in creative writing and journalism; I stuck to the plan after all. It’s not as easy as those old reruns of The Scholar we devoured last winter made us think. It’s a lot of reading, analyzing, writing, and repeating, in that order. But it does make you feel like you are moving forward, and for now, that’s enough for me.

Secondly, my sister got married on the 25th of July. We had the service at St James, and it was the weirdest feeling not seeing Alex behind the pulpit and officiating. He did not look at all in his element as a groom, but a fish may, even for a second, be happy out of the water, and standing beside Kate, he seemed to float in utter bliss. As I was looking at her, I thought how nice it must be to be loved especially and by someone who she’s known for all her life. I know he will make her happy, because he is a good man—or as he likes to say, “A good man is a believing man.”

I often wonder what you’d have said if you had been there.

I wanted to wish you well before your recital, but with all the preparations and maid of honour duties – I’m sorry. I hope it went well; have you had any other? How did they go? I hope it’s all that you dreamed of.

Write soon,

Sam

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25 December 1998

Dear Sam,

Merry Christmas!

Last night, I was walking from the academy to the hostel, and just as I turned into Rue de Rivoli—past La Petite Pâtisserie, the most picturesque bakery you’ll ever see—I saw it: my first snowfall. I thought of you and how you would have loved it. As the flakes thickened and the wind picked up, I said a prayer for your sister and Pastor Alex. Only nature, I thought, could reflect a love as grounded and beautiful as theirs.

I was thrilled to hear you stuck to the plan, and I’ve no doubt your writing will one day make Eddy’s Books the pride of Woodlands. I’ve now had four recitals—the fifth is on New Year’s. The first three didn’t go so well. Promising, Pierre said, but not quite there. The criticism stung more than I expected, and for a while, it left me unsure. But the night of my fourth recital, after reading your last letter, something shifted. My fingers felt light, my mind clearer—and for the first time before an audience, I truly wanted to be heard.

How are your classes and projects going? Have you written anything new? Would you let me read something? I hope university is what we dreamed it would be—and that you’re among the happiest there.

Please send my regards to Kate and Alex.

Write Soon,

Dan

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25 April 1999

Dear Dan,

It’s strange to think that it’s been over a year since we last saw each other, and I’m sorry that my replies don’t come as often as before. It used to be so much easier to talk when we shared so much of every day, but now I feel like our experiences leave much unsaid—for fear of not understanding, or the inability to help. I hope you get what I mean.

I ran into your mum the other day, and she showed me a picture of you receiving an award at La Rosa. The tux suits you—though I still prefer the baggy one from junior prom. You’ve grown taller and skinnier too; you need to eat more to keep up with all the award ceremonies you’ll attend. I’m really happy for you.

I met someone. His name is Josh. He’s in the same year, studying statistics. He makes me laugh.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this, or maybe I do.

Your friend,

Sam

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20 June 1999

Dear Sam,

Distance is an unforgiving thing. I left home with all these hopes for the future we once planned, and now that some of them are being realised, I find it bittersweet—most days, bitter. I suppose that’s life; it rarely goes according to plan, and as it changes, so must we.

I’m glad. You always did have the best laugh—a little on the screeching side, but warm all the same. I pray you keep laughing, Sam.

Take care,

Dan

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25 December 2003

Dear Dan,

I’m not sure if this email is still active.

How are you, Dan? It’s been so long that our past almost feels like fragments from another life—a simpler life.

Thank you for the diary. Your mum wouldn’t leave it with the other bridal gifts until it reached my hands, and I was so touched. You have to tell me where you get these engravings done—they’re breathtaking.

I saw you on TV last month; I nearly fell off my chair when I heard you speaking French. Alex thinks you’re practically native now—just missing the wardrobe change.

I was a bit thrown by what you said, and I hope you’ll allow me this moment to make something clear:

It was never unrequited.

Take care,

Sam

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16 February 2004

Dear Sam,

Congratulations! Firstly, for your book—I bought four copies and gave one to Pierre, and the others to Jean and Michael from the academy. I thought they’d appreciate it more, having heard me go on and on about your genius for years. Secondly, I wish you and Josh every happiness. I’ve been speaking with Pastor Alex quite a bit lately, and he has nothing but praises for Josh. Anyone he esteems must be worthy indeed.

Just this once, I ask you to excuse my foolishness. You must have known—I always thought… but God knows the paths we take, and His ways, being higher than ours, lead to joys greater than we imagine. I truly believe that. And so, dearest friend, I am grateful beyond words and will always pray for your happiness.

P.S. Remember that week before your 18th birthday when I was always at Eddy’s Books? Eddy had an antique engraving set, and I asked him to teach me. Not to brag—but it turns out I’m a quick study. His words, not mine.

Take care,

Dan