Sincerely, Yours

by Whitney G.

  Sincerely,

  Arizona

  Track 27. Begin Again. (5:03)

  Arizona

  I dropped a few postcards into the mailbox for my mom one Saturday morning. I was slowly coming to terms with my new non-Carter filled life, and even though I still woke up some days feeling numb and occasionally broke down and cried in the middle of the night, I was faring way better than I was when I first got here.

  I was making plenty of new friends in my classes, talking to Nicole once a week via Skype, and whenever I was feeling lonely, I wandered out to the coast.

  Since there were no beaches here—only jagged rocks and rough waters that knocked against them, I would lay back against my blanket and shut my eyes—pretending I was back at home instead. I would envision sunny days and warm sand, and for once, I wouldn’t be bothered by the tourists.

  My plan for “make-believe beach” was derailed today, though. In my usual spot, a group of people dressed in grey tuxedos and pink dresses were preparing for a wedding, so I headed to a nearby café.

  I ordered a pastry and a water, and sat by the window—trying my best to catch a glimpse of the ceremony, to see what true love looked like up close.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” My classmate Sean, a gorgeous guy with green eyes and an American accent, suddenly stepped in my line of vision.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Great.” He held out a white mug. “Do you like orange blend?”

  “Never had it.” I took it from his hands and sipped it slow; it was amazing. “What are you doing here?”

  “Tracking you down to see why you stood me up,” he said, smiling. “We had a date yesterday. Did you forget?”

  “What?” I raised my eyebrow, confused.

  “You don’t recall me saying that I’d pick you up from your flat at six for a night out?”

  I remembered. I just didn’t think he was serious, so I’d gotten into bed and gone to sleep early.

  “I’m so sorry, Sean. I thought you were just joking.”

  He smiled and sat down, moving his chair close to mine. “Do you also think I’m ‘just joking’ when I call you every night and we talk on the phone for hours at a time? Or when I only ask you to stay behind after study sessions and we hang out all night at my place?”

  I blinked, confused again.

  “Arizona …” He leaned forward and ran his fingers through my hair. “I’m trying to go out with you. How else can I make that any clearer?”

  I blushed, now feeling like a complete ditz. I’d thought nothing of our nightly phone conversations, weekend bike rides through town, or private study sessions.

  “I just thought you were being a nice guy,” I said.

  “I am a nice guy.” His fingers were still in my hair. “Outside of the bedroom …”

  My eyes widened and he laughed—leaning even closer.

  “I don’t know what else I can do to make you see that I’m interested,” he said softly. “Tell me what it takes.”

  I swallowed, looking him over. This was the second time in my life I’d failed to realize how sexy and attractive a guy was. With sun-kissed blond hair, deep green eyes, and a mouth that was too tempting not to try, he was definitely sexy as hell.

  “Are you going to tell me?” he asked.

  I hesitated. “What do you mean by go out?”

  “I mean you’ll actually hang out with me with the impression that I’m more than a nice guy.” He looked into my eyes. “A guy who actually likes you. It also means you’ll let me take you out to the city tomorrow.”

  “What if I’m busy tomorrow?”

  “If implies that you’re not, so I’ll force you.”

  “How romantic.” I laughed. “Nonetheless, yes. I’ll go out with you.”

  “Good,” he said, standing up and stepping back. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” I called out. “You were kidding about that bedroom comment, weren’t you?”

  He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “I wasn’t.”

  Blushing, I watched him walk away and sat in the café a little longer, wondering if our day in Paris tomorrow would come with the cliché “falling in love atop the Eiffel Tower” moment. I knew one thing for sure though, I was starting a new compatibility spreadsheet for us; I needed to check off the “intensity of the kisses” category with him ASAP.

  When I finally arrived back home, I noticed there was a new letter from Carter on my table.

  I stared at it for a while, running my finger along the flap—along the words, “URGENT: Please Open Me, Ari,” but I couldn’t bring myself to open it.

  Just not right now.

  Track 28. How You Get the Girl (4:32)

  Carter

  “Mr. James,” the postal employee sighed. “For the umpteenth time, we can’t track letters, only packages. Would you like me to track your last package to France, maybe?”

  “Bullshit. There has to be some way that you can track a goddamn letter …”

  He rolled his eyes and motioned for me to step aside. “Next in line, please!”

  Annoyed, I put my old receipt into my pocket and left the office. It’d been weeks since I sent Ari my last letter, and I’d sent it in a bright blue envelope with the words “URGENT: Please Open Me, Ari” across the back flap to make sure she’d have no choice but to read it. Yet, she hadn’t sent one word back about it, and the only correspondence on her end had been generic holiday cards. With Valentine’s Day a month and a half away, I wondered if she’d already made plans to send me another one of those.

  As usual, when I got home, I checked the mail, not expecting anything from her inside of it. This time—to my surprise, there was. It was dated for two weeks ago, and her curly handwriting was all over the back flap.

  I took it inside the house with me and immediately ripped it open:

  Dear Carter,

  I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to write you an actual, personal letter back. Things have become quite hectic now—in both good and bad ways.

  My roommate and I are on much better terms now (we’re actually really, really good friends) and I still have the highest marks in my class. I am definitely living my dream—definitely sooo happy that I came here to this school, and I can’t wait to cook you one of my gourmet breakfast dishes. (It’s BETTER THAN GAYLE’S! And if it isn’t, just tell me it is. LOL)

  I’m not surprised to know that you’re still number one in your cohort. I’ll have to take you out to celebrate when I get home …

  Speaking of which, I was going to surprise you but this letter will probably beat me there … I’m coming home for two whole weeks!!

  See you soon.

  Sincerely,

  Arizona

  What the fuck …

  I shook the letter, flipped it to the back—reread it a few times, wondering if I’d missed a part. There was no mention of anything I’d sent her in my most recent letter. I was wondering if she’d read it and was simply evading the subject until she got home, or if she still hadn’t read how I felt about the summer we spent together, how I felt about her.

  I pulled out my phone to call Josh and tell him that I’d probably be spending the full two weeks with Arizona whenever she got here, but I noticed I had a missed call from Ari’s mom.

  Sighing, I called her back.

  “Hey, Carter!” she answered on the first ring.

  “Hello, Mrs. Turner.”

  “Mrs. Turner?” She laughed. “Really? You haven’t called me that since you wrote me an ‘I’m sorry for hurting your daughter’s feelings’ letter. You know better than that …”

  I smiled. “Okay … Second Mom.”

  “Much better. I was calling to ask if you could do me a huge, huge favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Ari’s getting back home in about three hours according to the flight information she sent me.”

  She didn’t think to tell me when her flight landed?

&nb
sp; “Are you there, Carter?” her mom asked.

  “I’m here.”

  “Well, I was going to ask if she could stay with you for just this weekend. I’m currently staying at a friend’s because two of our water pipes burst and you know I refuse to step foot in there until it’s all taken care of … If it’s a problem, just let me know. I can see if maybe her new friend Nicole— ”

  “It’s not a problem,” I said, still silently seething at Ari’s inability to tell me anything. “Should I pick her up from the airport, too?”

  “Not at all! She’s using my reward points for a free rental. I’ll send her the text about the accommodation change, though. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you again.”

  “I’m sure …”

  “Okay, got to go! I need to finish cleaning my friend’s kitchen. Can you believe she didn’t know to clean underneath her cabinets? She’s been my best friend for all these years and I never had any idea about this. I wonder what else I don’t know …”

  “I know the feeling …”

  “Talk to you later, Carter.”

  “Talk to you later.” I hung up and took a seat on the couch, shaking my head and trying to process everything.

  Her vague letter. Her not sending me an email with her flight information.

  Her not acting like my friend.

  Shit …

  Unable to hold back, I sent her a text.

  You couldn’t at least send me an email with your flight information?

  I got a response a few hours later:

  Sorry. It just slipped my mind … I saw my mom’s text about staying at your place for the weekend … Are you at home now? Just landed. Pretty tired.

  I’m here.

  Okay. See you soon. On my way.

  I took a deep breath and decided to clean up to clear my mind. I walked into the kitchen and put all the dishes away. In case she wanted to talk before going to sleep, I tossed a few pillows and blankets onto the couch, and by the time I’d made the bed in my room, there was a familiar light knock at my door.

  I need you to listen to me for five minutes, Ari … Five minutes.

  I silently repeated the words as I walked over and opened the door.

  The second I laid eyes on her, I lost my train of thought.

  She was fucking stunning. Dressed in simple jeans and a white T-shirt (one of my small, old T-shirts …), she’d cut her hair to shoulder length and added blond highlights.

  “Hi …” She managed, slowly looking me up and down. Her hazel eyes slowly met mine and she forced a smile.

  “Hi …”

  We stood staring at each other for several seconds—neither of us attempting to shatter the silence. I leaned forward to take her bag from her hands, but she stepped back.

  “This is my best friend Carter, Sean.” She tilted her head to the guy who suddenly stepped from behind her, the guy I’d paid absolutely no attention to. “Carter, this is Sean. My boyfriend.”

  “Your what?”

  “My boyfriend.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Sean extended his hand to me, and I forced myself to shake it. “Do you mind if you let us in? I really need to lie down. We had a terrible flight, flying back in coach all the way here.”

  I opened my door wider, letting them in— keeping my eyes on Ari as she gave Sean a kiss on his cheek. Right in front of me. Right in fucking front of me.

  “The bathroom is down that hall and to your left,” she said, smiling at him. “Oh, and I guess these pillows and blankets are for us. You want blue or green?”

  “Green.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked away. “I’ll be right back.”

  What. The. Fuck … “Ari …” I walked over to her and she ignored me, unfolding the blankets and setting up the pillows. “Ari … I know you hear me talking to you.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Is this Sean thing a joke? After all this time, are you playing a prank on me?”

  “Why would someone fly from France to America as a joke? He really is my boyfriend.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “About a month ago.” She looked confused. “Didn’t you get my letter?”

  “This one?” I held up the one I’d just received today.

  “No …” she said. “There was another one …”

  “I would believe that, but you don’t have the best track record with sending me shit. Did you get mine?”

  “The one about hoping to see me and hang out again someday? Or was it the one that said, say something—anything, Ari? Please?”

  “No … Not that one. Although, I must say it’s good to know you were actually fucking reading what I wrote.”

  “Could you not curse at me like that?” She crossed her arms. “I haven’t been home for five minutes and you’re snapping at me?”

  “I’m not snapping at you ... I’m trying to figure out how you can literally go to another country for months, stop talking to me for no reason at all, and when you finally come back, not only do you not tell me in advance, but the first time that I see you again, you’re dating someone else.”

  “Someone else implies that you and I were once dating, that we were in some type of intimate relationship …” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And I had a really good reason for not talking to you.”

  “Care to share it?”

  “Not particularly. “She looked like she was trying to stay as calm as possible. “We weren’t dating, Carter. We were just friends, remember?”

  I felt my blood pressure rising, but I said nothing. Instead I looked her over again—trying to figure out who she was right now. This wasn’t the Arizona I knew at all.

  “This is a really nice place, Carter.” Sean walked into the room. “Do you own this?”

  “Yes.” I kept my eyes on Ari.

  Ari’s eyes met mine. “It’s nice that you set up the couch for us.”

  “I didn’t. You can sleep in my bed.”

  “Really?” Sean smiled, clearly misinterpreting that my offer was only for Ari. “How nice, man. I’ll put our stuff in there later tonight. Is that your room on the right?”

  “It is …” I couldn’t believe this shit. The second he walked away to check it out, I glared at Ari. “I need to talk to you right now.”

  “I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “I’d be more than happy to talk to you over dinner later today, though. I want to take Sean to Gayle’s. I already texted Josh and he’s agreed to meet us there at six. You interested?”

  “I need to talk to you alone.”

  “If I have time while I’m here …” She sat on the couch and fluffed a pillow. “I’ll think about it. Can you hit the light, please?”

  “Ari …”

  She stood up and hit the light herself, returning to the couch. “It’s nice seeing you again, Carter. You look really good. Happy.”

  “I’m not happy …”

  “Well, I am.” She gave me a look that said, ‘go away’ and it took everything inside of me not to turn the light back on and pull her up, to make her listen to what I had to say.

  To prevent myself from losing my shit, I went into the guest room and slammed the door shut.

  Track 29. I Wish You Would (3:44)

  Arizona

  I couldn’t breathe.

  I was pretty sure I was going to pass out in the middle of this awkward dinner, if Sean didn’t lean over and resuscitate me soon.

  Four of us—Josh, Sean, Carter and I were sitting at a table in the back, and with the exception of Carter, we were all getting along. We were going over the menu—pointing all of the best things that he had to try, and Carter was glaring at me. Not saying a word.

  I couldn’t deny that when I’d first seen him earlier today that my heart had nearly jumped out of my chest in excitement, had almost screamed, “You still love him!” but I’d kept my face stiff and as emotionless as possible.

  Even though one touch of his hand had sent my body into a familiar state of overdrive,
I was still hurt. Besides, my heart was a fucking idiot.

  Sean met all of my spreadsheet specifications perfectly: Smart, witty, subtly stylish, and one hell of a kisser. True, we hadn’t had sex and the thought of doing so had yet to even cross my mind, but I was waiting for my heart to lose all hope of Carter before plowing ahead one hundred percent.

  Get your shit together, Heart. The man sitting across from me broke you. Remember that.

  “Hmmm.” Sean looked confused. “This place only serves breakfast food and dessert?”

  “Yeah,” Josh said. “It’s amazing. You can’t go wrong with whatever you try.”

  “I’m not much of a breakfast guy.” He flipped the menu. “Not that big a fan of dessert, either.”

  “Then why the fuck are you a chef?” Carter muttered under his breath.

  Sean didn’t hear it, but Josh threw him a pointed look.

  “You have to try this,” I said, clasping his hand. “Trust me, your life will never be the same.”

  “Well, when you put it that way—” He leaned over and kissed me. “I’ll get this week’s specialty waffle plate.”

  The waitress stepped over at that moment, unknowingly giving us a much needed breather. “Alright, my favorite people. Josh, what are you having?”

  “I’m going to try the caramel waffle with peanut butter chips. I’ll also have strawberry syrup with it, unless you all have finally taken my suggestion about creating some that’s weed flavored?””

  She hit his head with her notepad and laughed. Then she pointed her pen at Sean. “What about you?”

  “I’ll have the specialty waffle plate.”

  “What type of syrup?”

  “Regular maple will be great.”

  “Okay, then.” She folded her pad and tucked it into her apron. “I’ll bring out some more orange juice and some more napkins. Your orders should be ready pretty soon.”