Wistfully Willing

The sealed envelope taunted me from across the room as I sat at the foot of my bed, knees held tightly to my chest. Several memories had passed since I first took up this position. Despite knowing they had been filmed through my eyes, I still struggle to believe that the person I am now, and the person whose eyes I must have borrowed, were one in the same. Hues of blue, then yellow. Vibrant greens the color of emerald. Then, debilitating red, flashed through my mind as I glared into the wooden floorboards of my childhood home. There were countless nights I traced the curves of the wood with my eyes, as I tried to block out the world around me. Coincidently, I find myself in the same position now, only instead of trying to block out a crescendo of noise I am left trying to ignore the blaring silence from within my own room.

Carter. The name rang through my head like a kneeling of the bells at Sunday mass.

Carter, I can hold my breath for two minutes underwater. Want to bet?

Carter! Don’t put the sparkler so close to my head, idiot!

Carter? Do you believe forever is possible with another person?

Carter. You’re not serious. Are you?

I truly believe in every lifetime, Carter and I will be tethered to one another. Whether that be by the popularized red string, a wedding band, or a family friend. Our lives were always meant to be intertwined. So I thought. How bold I was to dare to believe that after years of pining, we would finally be able to be together. Not as childhood friends or footnotes in each other's story. Starring roles, our images laced together on the cover of our story. However, in all the time I have known Carter, I never knew the full extent of his aspirations, even when I would have sworn to have the ability to read his mind. I knew nothing. To have a best friend is one thing. Carter was not that. Lord knows there were nights where I hoped he would leave my life for good.

Carter, what do I care if you want to take her to prom?

Carter, you’re blinding me with your flashlight!

Carter. You cannot seriously believe I am jealous.

Carter, you cannot show up in my room and expect to make things right!

However, that was impossible. Carter Haynes would always be a part of my life. It was only recently I had allowed myself to believe that he intended to tether his soul to mine.

Idiot.

Selfish, idiot.

Was he selfish?

Yes, absolutely.

The presence of the letter on my windowsill became impossible to ignore. Why even bother leaving a letter? There were certain conversations that needed to be held verbally. Despite our initial fight, my unfiltered reaction to the news, I still believed we would resume our argument at a later date. As we always did. However, I guess our parents take precedence.

My window was left open, and although winter was still holding firm, the light from the sunset and the sweet smelling breeze belonged to spring. I finally allowed myself to roll my head back onto the mattress. My body ached at the sudden motion, and fully groaned as I released my hands from my knees. I sat limp on the floor for a moment longer. My fingers traced the grooves of the wood. Selfish, selfish, selfish. I hoisted my body up. First, onto my knees, causing the wood to creak and shift underneath the change in my weight. Then, upright once again, using the palms of my hands to lift myself off the ground. Ouch. I slowly made my way across the room. With each step, I felt my heart skip a beat in anticipation. When I finally completed the arduous journey, I took a steadying breath. My eyes were dry, but the thumping in my chest and the knot in my stomach told me they would not be for long.

Carter and I had been together for 3 months now. It would have been one year this upcoming August. While that might be considered impressive for most modern relationships, I always thought it dimmed our entire relationship. Yes, we had officially been together for 3 months, but have also “officially” been in each other's lives for over twenty years.

For our first five years together, we fought, as children do. The next seven? We declared each other best friends. At the age of 12, when we were finally able to explore our small town. We would walk three miles each way for a bottle of snapple ice tea and a bagel to share. If the weather was nice, our adventures would lead us to a lake that had little disregard for county lines. Our relationship continued like this until 17; until I finally admitted to myself I had feelings for Carter. The next three years were pure anguish. Exchanging “secret” glances, apart from the feeling of wandering eyes. The feeling of my heart beating twice as fast for brushing up against one another at a crowded party. Being unable to revisit what had become our lake because the thought of seeing him so exposed, or being so exposed to him, made my stomach queasy. When we finally stopped pretending, we were both 20. Now, I am finishing my undergraduate degree, and despite all his protesting the last time we spoke, he is trying to get as far away from me as he possibly could.

I wedged my finger under the corner of the envelope's seal. What I attempted was a graceful unveiling of the letter. Instead, my finger kept tearing at the envelope until I could no longer discern which parts had originally been glued down. For a moment, I was afraid I had ripped the letter, but for better or worse, Carter’s chicken-scratch handwriting peaked out from the crevice I had made.

A steadying breath escaped my lips as I pulled the letter out, and a sharp inhale followed as I began to unfold it. Then, there it was. Laid out before me in the most illegible penmanship. Despite what people claim, there are certain aspects of people that never truly change. Carter always wrote like his pen was on fire, and I have been his translator since kindergarten. All rational thought fled my mind as I began to read, and a tear rolled down my cheek deciphering my nickname scratched on the page:

My Dearest Kay,

I knew that this conversation was not going to be easy. There was so much I wanted to explain to you in person, to try to help you understand. However, knowing you, I knew you never would without a fight. If my memory serves me well, we have only had three fights on record. And no, I am not counting anything before the age of ten.

Our first fight was when I had told Richard Davis you “needed space” from him. Which, I only admitted to you after I had seen the pained look on your face later that night, after he did not ask you to the 8th grade dance. I admitted to my mistake, and you did not speak to me for a week. Our second fight started when I drove home after Sandra’s party after drinking two beers. Even though I was able to make it home, you had blocked my number before I could text you to let you know I was okay. The silent treatment you had given me after that night was deafening. As it should have been, and I fully admitted that to you two weeks after when you finally unlocked your window. Our third happened yesterday, after I had told you everything I have been avoiding for quite some time now.

Selfishly, I never wanted to tell you the truth of it all. The same way I was never fully honest about any of our past fights. When we finally admitted our true feelings to one another, I mentioned that I had been in love with you since we were eighteen. However, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. In truth, there has not been a moment in my life where I haven’t loved you, Kayla. I lied to Davis because I wanted to be the one to ask you to the dance, but lost my chance once I clued you in on the truth. And I knew better than to drive home after a few drinks, but I couldn’t stand to be in that room any longer watching Bobby continue to throw himself at you. Those lies were because I was afraid to face the truth of my love for you; attempts to push you away so I didn’t chase you away with the truth of the matter. Now, knowing that you are mine is more painful than never knowing. I am leaving us and in doing so, leaving you, and I cannot handle it all.

My parents started discussing the voyage with me after my nineteenth birthday. It started out with probing questions, trying to gauge how I would feel about leaving. Truthfully, I told them I couldn’t leave you. I have been telling them that every time they have brought up this conversation. When we officially started dating was when I began to see the panicked look in both their faces. It was after our 1 month anniversary that they told me everything. My mom was dying. Your mom did not know. There was no cure. WAS nothing that could be done. That was until my parents had found out about Voyage 15. An agent from the government came to our home a few months after my mom’s initial diagnosis, and he proposed a solution. In two years time, a spacecraft would depart from Arizona with a 20 person carrying capacity. The idea is that experiencing such intense pressure and temperature changes will make treatment more effective. When this was first explained to me, I thought both my parents had lost their minds. That was until I saw the evidence. Of the previous fourteen voyages, there were 102 patients, and 87 of those patients were able to survive once in space. When compared to the statistics of patients on Earth, it showed that this course of treatment worked, and not only that, worked well. Voyage 15 will have 18 passengers on board on May 17th. Those passengers will include my family and three others. There is a high probability of us not making it home.

I fully admit that I could have done a better job explaining all of this to you in person. However, the look on your face brought me to my knees. Even writing this, I don’t know how I am going to leave you. You are probably so angry with me and you have every right to be. I refuse to make excuses for myself. I have been in love with you my whole life, and instead of making up for lost time I am leaving and possibly never returning. My only hope is that in time, you may learn to forgive me, one last time. I apologize for the lies I have told, and the feelings I kept hidden. Most importantly, I am so sorry for waiting so long to admit my feelings to you, and because of that I am not sorry for allowing us to have more time.

You will always be my forever,

Carter

Tears had soaked the paper I now clutched with both hands. Splotches of ink started to run down the page. Selfish! Selfish! Selfish, idiot! I tossed the papers onto the floor and buried my face in my hands. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that my skin was coated in red spots, running up and down my arms, over my chest and onto my neck. I screamed but did not make a sound; an old childhood habit that I have not been able to break. My eyes burned as I caught a glimpse at the papers splayed across the floor. This cannot be happening, this is NOT happening. I refuse to let this become my reality.

I reached down to pick up the pieces of paper, folding them as neatly as I could manage back in the envelope. Today’s date was May 14th, and if he got the date correct, there were still three days before they were expected to leave. I pushed open the front door of my house, descended the front steps, and walked. My shoes kicked up dust as I narrowly avoided rocks that peaked through the ground to the surface. I must have taken this walk thousands of times, sometimes multiple times a day. The thought that this could be the last time I am able to make this walk made me choke on air and clench my fists.

I rounded the oak tree we had climbed as children, and finally the tops of his roof came into review. That old green house had two bay windows on the second floor that jutted out. The paneling on the glass panes made it look as if the house were wearing glasses. It was fitting, seeing as the house probably knew Carter and I better than we knew ourselves. I started up the porch steps, ready to break down the …

“Kay?”

Carter was standing behind me, empty box in hand. For a moment, we just look at one another. Carter, whose jeans were always either covered in dirt or paint, was wearing the same t-shirt he had been when we spoke the day before. His hair was covering his eyes, though I could still make out the blue of his eyes. Meanwhile, my eyes were undoubtedly bloodshot, tears still spilling out occasionally. I am at the point where I cannot discern exactly what I am feeling. There are twinges of anger, followed by moments of sadness, mixed in with guilt that I cannot quite place, and the grief I was reeling from when he left.

“This letter is crap,” I exclaim, and proceed to shake the envelope furiously in one hand. “How are you going to space? SPACE?”

“It’s my mom, Kay, I have to go.” His eyes fall to the floor, as if he is exhausted. “I am so sorry I had to wait to tell you, but if I told you any sooner,” he paused, now staring into my soul, tears forming along his bottom lashes. “If I had told you sooner, I knew you would manage to talk me out of this, or have tried to come with me and I just -” tears were falling freely down his freckled cheeks, “I have to go, I need to be with my mom.”

“But do you not tell me until you are about to leave? Or maybe, you were planning to wait until you were out of the Earth’s orbit.” My words left my mouth with more of a bite than I anticipated.

“I don’t have a choice-”

“There is ALWAYS a choice. You promised that the future was OURS. Those were your words, were they not?”

“Kay-”

“Were they not?”

“They were.”

“So then let us decide, Carter. Not individually, together.”

“Kayla, if I let you have a say in this, you would have realized that there was no convincing me to stay behind. You would realize that I would not miss the chance to say goodbye to my mom if the treatment does not work. So, instead, you would offer to come with me; make a pretty convincing argument too.” He smirked as his sentence trailed off, as if he were envisioning the scene playing out in his head. “But I can’t, I won’t let you risk your life to come on this journey with me.”

“That is not your decision to make. You didn’t even give me the option to decide, you decided for me without consulting my opinion, my feeling-”

“Because I cannot risk losing you too, Kayla.” We were now face to face with one another.

“But, you’re okay with the possibility that I lose you?”

“It’s my life Kay.”

“As is mine! You have no right to take my opinion of this out of consideration. I am not just your girlfriend, in case you have forgotten. You are tied to me, as I am to you. What if our situations were reversed? How would you feel? What exactly would you do if I told you I would leave for SPACE in three days? Please, spare no details. Correct me if I am wrong in saying you would barge your way onto the spacecraft, come hell or high water.”

He deflected his gaze to the ground, as he always did when our words became too heavy to shoulder. Then, tears streamed down. Frustration, longing, hopelessness, all drawn with the precision of a masterful artist. The furrow of his brows accentuated with the blotchy undertones of his skin.

“Carter,” I gently squeezed his hand, “let me make my own decisions, allow me to join you among the stars.”

‘It’s not that simple.”

“What is? When has anything about us ever been simple? ‘Complicated’ has always been our company tag-line.”

He caught my gaze and stared, pensively. His hand met the side of my face, which he cupped gently. I leaned into the touch, his tears interlacing with mine. For the first time all day, my tears were not brought on by anger, but by acceptance; by trust. Regardless of how ridiculous the grandeur of venturing to space seemed, it would be familiar, because Carter would be standing beside me. Perhaps, it would resemble the first day of each school year. A new classroom, but still, Carter would walk through the doors with me.

“Okay,” he said after several beats of silence.

“Okay,” I repeat, as my heart begins to flutter.