This is Why

I’ve never had much of a choice but to love you. When you grow up in a town as small as Marington, it’s natural that you lean towards your next door neighbor as a mate. A friend, at least.

It’s just convenient for your boyfriend to be at a walkable distance from your home.

Not to say I only like you because you live next door. That’s about 10% of the reason I chose you. I’m going to tell you in percentages, or perhaps decimals why. It’s easier to express how I feel through math. In math, there are straight up answers. No mixed up words that could lead you to think I feel entirely different than I actually do.

Just so you know, I’m not going to use fancy vocabulary words a lot of people use in love letters. Infatuated. Passionate. Enamored. They all mean the same thing, just different forms and wordings.

Another 10% of the reason I love you is your face. It’s shallow and cheesy, yes. Is it true? Affirmative. You know what you look like. I don’t need to describe it- but I’m going to anyway.

Blue eyes, not the color of the ocean but the stained glass on the church windows at our elementary school. Dirty blond hair, the same color as mine and once, in fourth grade, nearly as long. Slightly taller than me but short enough I can tease you of being a little boy. Messy, sometimes sensitive, and who I called mine.

We weren’t two peas in a pod, but two pods in the same bowl. Not the same constellation but two different ones in the same sky. We were always in the right notebook, Malcolm, just never on the same page.

Another 10% is

You know what, Malc? I can’t do this. I can’t tell you how much I love you, you’re right. You were right, Malc. Even when I was screaming, telling you how you were being erroneous, I knew that.

You know how stubborn I am. Remember when I used to fight with Reese all of the time? Reese wasn’t even my sister, for God’s sake. I pick arguments, I say things I don’t mean. You know that. You know me.

When my mom told me you wanted to meet up in Oak I wondered why you hadn’t just left a sticky note on my window like always. (You never told me how you managed to even climb up to the second floor window!) But I went anyway.

I could walk to that tree and climb to the top in my sleep.

I remember one time we tried doing it while our eyes were closed. Your dad was unimaginably annoyed when we came back with two bruises on our heads, but eventually he laughed it off and called it a "Malcolm and Jessica move”. Jessica and Malcolm.

Just so you know, I had never meant to tell Bess about

I wanted to let everyone know how

When you said “Give me one good reason to trust you,” I didn’t have an answer. I hate being seen as speechless and vulnerable. So I thought up everything we had gotten over.

I shouldn’t have told Bess about that winter. I was so, so furious, you know? And what’s a better way to get revenge than spreading rumors about the one time in four years of a relationship you touched another girl?

So back to what I was saying before- when you told my mom to tell me to meet you up in Oak, I went. I climbed up the same way I always had.

Grab the little nub of wood sticking out with your right hand. Left foot on the lowest branch. Pull up your whole body until your right hand can reach the branch that I had used as a seat so many times. Reach your arm up as far as you can, just enough so your fingers can grip the part of the tree where all of the branches sticking out dozens of feet collide.

When I got there you were already in your normal spot, staring at the blue sky that would turn pink after sunset in just an hour or so. I sat on a branch across from yours. I asked you why you hadn’t left me a sticky note.

You didn’t answer my question. “I’m moving.” It was clear and blunt, unlike you. I was caught off guard.

I always have something prepared. A comeback up my sleeve, an idea ready to go. Not this time- I had never considered your absence as a possibility. For me, there was nothing to consider. Most everyone who was born in Merington stayed in Merington.

I knew you weren’t kidding so I didn’t laugh. In shock, I said “When?”

“An hour.”

Damn, Malc. I wanted to hurt you. You had known for months. For months, you acted like nothing happened. We would’ve figured something out. We were over because your dad called you down to pack up a toothbrush before we could figure out long distance.

Because of you, we were done over a fricking toothbrush. (Of course much more led to that toothbrush, but you get the point.)

I jumped off of the old Oak tree we had climbed nearly every Sunday while our parents went out to the only saloon in a ten-mile radius after four PM. I had never done that before. You loved showing off, jumping off of the tall tree at eight years old, but I had always been nervous of landing wrong and breaking an arm.

I had almost expected you to yell “Finally!” or to start whistling and clapping when I did. You didn’t. You didn’t even call my name. You jumped down after me and turned to walk back to your house and pack your toothbrush.

That hurt, Malcolm. That fucking hurt.

Of course the next morning I woke up angry. It was like I was drunk when I went to school that morning. I wasn’t thinking. I felt dizzy and nauseous. I wanted to do everything in my power to tell people how terrible you were.

Bess was the first person I saw that morning. She greeted me and only seconds later asked where you were. It was then I realized I had never been seen without you in the entirety of my education. It ticked me off, how everyone looked to my right side like I was missing something.

“Where’s twin?” That’s the question that Bess asked me. I had never gotten this angry. A twist in my stomach and a clench in my jaw made everything seem irrational.

If I told people you were forced to move, they would think, Well that’s not Malcolm’s fault. Poor Jessica is so sad she can’t even think clearly. They would’ve been right.

And so I said what I thought would cause the most damage: “I don’t know. The last I saw he was with Jen in the back of his room.” I looked away but I knew Bess stared at me, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

“What? My Jen?”

“Not only yours anymore, it seems.”

We both stayed silent for the rest of the bus ride. It was only when we got off I spoke again. The clench in my jaw, the twist in my stomach, started to lessen. They were replaced with a new, dropping feeling in my chest.

I stared at Bess before she walked in the opposite direction to class, as I realized I had hurt more than just you.

“I’m sorry,” I told her without an explanation.

“It’s not your fault.” She walked away, her teeth clenched like mine had been when Malcolm betrayed me like I just betrayed her. She didn’t know that Jen wasn’t what I was apologizing for.

Later that night you called me. For just a second, the guilt was worth it. I would talk to you again! That feeling lasted until you spoke from the other side of the phone.

“I didn’t tell you I was moving because I knew it would just make leaving harder.” Your voice made my head spin.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I just kept on making noises into the phone, like I was about to say something. I never did.

“I was going to explain that to you, as soon as I didn’t have a way to come back. If I knew I could, I would’ve come back.”

Finally, I was able to get something out. I meant to sound angry, but it came out soft.

“What’s wrong with coming back?”

“My dad got a new job, Jay.” I took a breath when you said my nickname. “He sure as hell isn’t giving it up, and the hours are like, seven days a week until midnight. My mom is lonely, even with me here. I can’t leave.” I sat back on my bed."

“Oh.” I sounded like an idiot, I know. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Damn, Jessica. You didn’t even give me a day to call you! You think as soon as I leave no one contacts me again? I tried calling everyone after Bess yelled at me for stealing her girlfriend. I kissed her once, three years ago. We talked. You swore. Thanks, Jay, for keeping that promise. I’d be surprised if anyone hasn’t heard of my ‘affair’.”

“Malc, hold on. You left without a word. What did you expect me to do, host a goodbye party? I was mad, Malcolm, and for a good reason.”

“I was going to explain, Jay.”

“And how was I supposed to know that? I was being stupid, Malc, and I’m sorry. You know I would’ve never done anything like that if I had known what happened. I love you.”

“Why should I believe you? You have no right to tell me you love me right now.”

“You know me.” Tears raced down my cheeks and I couldn’t tell if they were out of sadness or fury.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

There’s this saying, fight or flight. At the moment I didn’t know how to fight. So I flew. I hung up, cutting off any last chances of forgiveness.

And I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, but it’s all I have. Even as I’m writing this letter I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I had known why you left. And for that there is nothing I can say to make it better.

This is why I hurt you.

This is why I let you down.

I love you.

I don't have proof, I only have you.

All of this to say;

Do they forgive down there in California?

I found out from my mother, that’s where you are now.

I’m still right here in Merington.

It's been seven months.

Sometimes I miss you.

Sometimes it feels as if you had never been here at all.

Malcolm, please respond to this letter. Please leave me a sticky note telling me you’ll be there.

I’ll be up in Oak.