by Cassia Leo
Her hands tremble violently as she stares at my name scrawled on the outside of the envelope. Judging by the tears rolling down her cheeks, she recognizes the handwriting. I hold my breath as I watch her slip the folded five-page letter out of the envelope. She unfolds it slowly and covers her mouth the moment she sees it’s genuine. Clutching the letter to her chest, she closes her eyes as she takes a few deep breaths. Finally, she holds it up and begins reading the words that changed my life forever. The words that gave me a purpose and a love like no other while also destroying everything I knew to be true.
Dear Houston,
* * *
First of all, please don’t show this letter to anyone else. Not Mom. Not Dad. And especially not Rory. And please forgive me for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do.
You’re probably wondering why I did this. You think there weren’t any signs and that none of it makes sense. You think I had everything going for me and so much to live for. But you need to know the truth. And the short version of the truth is that I was destroyed by love. Now let me give you the long version.
It all began about twenty-eight months ago. I was sixteen and it was the end of the summer before my junior year. Rory and I had made plans to go to the movies on a Friday night, but when I got to her house an hour early, she wasn’t there yet. No one answered the door. So I went down the driveway toward the backyard to see if she was laying out trying to catch a suntan, but she wasn’t there. But her dad was back there, standing on a tall ladder and cutting branches off the big elm tree in their backyard.
He didn’t have a shirt on. His T-shirt was draped over one of the lower branches. The tanned skin of his back was glistening with sweat. He’d been working on getting the yard ready for the fall for a couple of weekends. But it wasn’t until that day, when I was able to look at him without wondering if Rory was watching me, that I finally realized what a beautiful body he had.
I’d always thought James was handsome. Even as a young girl, I thought he was the coolest dad ever. When I first met Rory and she told me her dad used to be an activist and now he was a lawyer, I thought there probably wasn’t anyone in our town as cool as him. But I didn’t really develop a crush on him until I found him sawing the branches off that tree.
It wasn’t just the sight of the muscles working under his skin, it was the thought of what they were working for. He was working to make the yard better for his family. Rory’s mom hated it when the elm tree dumped all its leaves in the fall and winter. And Rory hated it when she had to spend the weekend raking leaves, so he was trying to make their life easier by trimming the tree before autumn.
I think I was feeling more vulnerable that day because I hadn’t seen Dad in almost five months, since I visited him in Salem during Spring Break. But he kept making excuses for why we shouldn’t visit him that summer, so we gave up trying by the end of June. If I had not been feeling so vulnerable, maybe none of this would have happened. I don’t know.
All I know is that it took a few minutes for James to realize I was watching him. He was friendly as he explained that Rory and her mom had to go to the store to pick up a few things for a teachers’ potluck at school. He said I could wait inside the house, but I told him it was a nice day so I’d just wait on the back deck. The truth was that I just wanted to watch him.
He didn’t seem to catch on the first three or four times I showed up when I knew Rory and her mom would be gone. I told him a couple of times that I had accidentally changed the time on my phone when I reset my alarm clock, which was why I kept showing up at the wrong times, and he seemed to believe me. But when I showed up at their house a couple of days before the first day of school, he finally caught on.
It was about seven o’clock at night and Rory and her mom had left to go shopping for school clothes. When James answered the door, he didn’t bother telling me that Rory was gone or that she’d be back in a couple of hours. He didn’t even invite me in, he just flashed me a reserved smile and opened the door.
I was so nervous. I had been up late the night before trying to figure out how I was going to approach him. School would be starting soon and I thought my opportunities to be alone with him would dry up. I knew I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and, in my mind, something had to be done or things would get very awkward very quickly.
I wore a short, flouncy skirt and the UO T-shirt you’d bought for me. I thought this would lull him into a sense of false security, like I wasn’t actually sixteen.
He sat down on one end of the sofa and kept on watching Monday night football while I sat on the other end and pretended to wait for Rory. It took a few minutes for me to work up the courage to slip out of my flip-flops and put my feet up on the coffee table the way Rory and I normally did when we were hanging out in her living room. I watched him from the corner of my eye as I crossed and uncrossed my legs. He seemed to be stealing glances every few minutes, so I upped my game by scratching a pretend itch on the inside of my knee, then I left my hand resting between my legs. This got his attention.
He stared at my hand for a moment before he looked up at me and said, “That’s a nice skirt.”
I was so desperate for more praise, I could hardly speak or breathe. But no matter what position I sat in or how many times I scratched an itch, he never said another word to me that night. Over the next twenty-two months, things went on the same way. Occasionally, I’d find myself alone with him and, occasionally, he would compliment me, but he never touched me or made any verbal propositions. Still, I knew he was interested. And I had convinced myself that everything would change when I turned eighteen. And it did.
Rory and I drove to Salem for my eighteenth birthday. We actually went on May 17th, three days after my birthday, because we had to wait until the weekend. We snuck a bottle of Mom’s whiskey out there and got drunk before we went to the Enchanted Forest theme park. It was the best birthday ever. Once we were sober, we drove back to Rory’s and got ready for bed.
About one in the morning, I got out of bed to go to the restroom when I saw a faint glow coming from the staircase. I decided to creep downstairs and see if it was James, and it was. He was in the downstairs office with his computer on. I tiptoed in, but he looked up from his laptop immediately. His eyes scanned my body for a few seconds before he told me to close the door.
I closed the door and locked it just to be safe, then I slowly walked around the desk. I was a little disappointed when I saw him working on a legal brief instead of watching porn. But the disappointment melted away when he beckoned me to sit on his lap.
He spoke to me softly, asking how my birthday went and how I felt about going away to UO after the summer. With my head resting on his shoulder, he stroked my leg with the tips of his fingers as he spoke. He told me about the case he was working on and it made me feel smart. But I knew if I didn’t make a move, he would probably send me upstairs unsatisfied.
The scent of his skin was crisp and cool like he had just showered, so I took a chance and kissed his neck. He froze and I began to wonder if I had misread his kindness. Maybe he was just comforting me, indulging my schoolgirl crush on my birthday. But then I felt something going on beneath me and I knew he was getting excited.
He told me multiple times that this would only happen once. That he was only doing this because he knew how much I wanted him. And that it could never happen again. But I didn’t care.
Part of me believed it would be the last time, but a larger part of me knew I could make it happen again. And I did.
Why do you think I got a summer job thirty-five minutes away from home? James and I would meet at a hotel where he would pay cash, but I put my debit card on file and used my name to register. I was crazy with jealousy when I wasn’t with him and I was miserable with guilt every time we parted. I knew I couldn’t ask him to leave his wife, so we just never spoke of those kinds of things. When we weren’t screwing, we talked about work.
But the worst part
was knowing what would happen if Rory ever found out. I reasoned with myself that I would end the affair before it got too serious and way before Rory or her mom found out. When in reality I knew that I was already in way over my head. I had loved James from afar for two years. Now that I had him, I knew I wouldn’t be able to give him up. And in a sick way, this also made me feel closer to Rory.
She’s loved you since she was eleven years old. And I know that if you two ever got together, it would be a dream come true for her. That was the way it was for me, only I was acting out a disgusting schoolgirl fantasy. I was on the verge of destroying a family. And not just anyone’s family, my best friend’s family.
I hated myself throughout the whole thing, but I couldn’t stop. Then Rory and I went off to UO and I tried to pretend to be happy. I even tried going out on a few dates, but I hated all those guys almost as much as I hated myself. Still, I kept pretending.
Then Rory asked me if I wanted to spend Thanksgiving with her family. I knew I could split my day between our house and Rory’s house if I played my cards right with Mom. So I began to get excited at the prospect of possibly being alone with James again. But when Rory and I arrived the Saturday before Thanksgiving, he was very cold with me.
I thought he was just doing it so as not to arouse suspicion, but when I managed to catch him alone in the garage later that night, he told me very clearly that it was over between us. I insisted that it didn’t have to be. That I could keep it a secret as long as he wanted me to, but he was adamant that the affair couldn’t continue.
Still, I didn’t believe him. I went inside the house and cried in the bathroom for a little while. Then I decided I’d just try to show him what he would be missing. I did pathetic things like sitting across from him at the dinner table and squeezing my breasts together just enough for them to appear larger. I would wait in the bathroom until I heard him coming out of his bedroom, then I’d walk out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. I’m not certain, but I think Rory’s mom began to notice what I was doing, and if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, I began texting nude pictures of myself to the pay-as-you-go cell phone he bought over the summer. I think the number was disconnected, but I kept sending them in the hope that it wasn’t.
When Thanksgiving finally came, I tried to sit next to him, but he decided to change seats so he could “carve the turkey at the head of the table.” That was when it finally started to sink in that I had been used.
He never told me he loved me, but he always made it a point to tell me how beautiful I looked and how much he missed me when we were apart. I mistook this for love. But I was finally starting to realize that I had spent more than two years of my life loving someone who would never love me back. Even worse, I’d spent two years of my life dreaming of a life that would ruin my best friend if it were to come to fruition.
I’ve spent the past week absolutely sick with myself. I hate knowing that I grew up to be as sick as Dad. Absolutely no respect for the sanctity of marriage. I don’t want to live with what I’ve done. And I don’t want Rory to live with it either. That’s why you can never show her this letter. And you need to promise me that you won’t punish her for what James and I did.
I knew what I was doing, which only makes me even more guilty. Please don’t take it out on Rory. She’s the victim in this whole fucked-up scenario. All she’s ever done is love me and trust me, and I couldn’t bear losing her over something like this.
I’m sorry that you had to find out this way. And I’m sorry that you’re the one who had to find me. Please know that I didn’t want to hurt you. I just didn’t want to hurt Rory any more than I already have. Please help Mom and Rory get through this.
I love you always.
* * *
Hallie
32. Rory
Eight years ago, September 23rd
* * *
I haven’t been to the Gallery Theater since I was eight, so it’s been eight years since the last time I came with my parents. Hallie has never been there in the five years since she moved to McMinnville with her mom and Houston, so I’m sure this visit will be more interesting than my last. Hallie and I get tickets for Oklahoma at 7:30 p.m., then we get in line behind a family of four to get inside the theater.
Hallie’s quiet as she stares at the family, then she turns to me and leans in conspiratorially. “What is it like to love someone for as long as you’ve loved Houston?”
I’m a bit taken aback by this question. It’s not the type of light banter that usually happens while standing in line at the theater. We reach the door and an usher takes our tickets, then leads us through the lobby and to our seats. The whole time, I sense Hallie anxiously awaiting my reply to her question. I don’t know what’s prompted her to ask me this, unless she has a crush that she hasn’t told me about. But Hallie and I share everything.
The usher leads us to a pair of seats three rows back from the main stage. Once he’s gone, Hallie turns to me with a smile on her face, awaiting my reply.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess it’s… crippling.”
Her smile disappears. “Really?”
I think about Houston and how much I’ve missed him since he left for college last year. And how every time I see him at Hallie’s house during holidays, my stomach cramps up and my thoughts get all jumbled. How I fall asleep most nights with thoughts of what it would be like to have those feelings reciprocated. And wake up with my heart broken when I realize the happiness I felt moments ago was just a dream.
“Really. It’s awful.”
Her shoulders slump as she lets out a soft sigh. “I want to be in love.”
“With someone in particular?”
“No, I just want to feel like there’s more than this, you know?”
I chuckle, feeling slightly confused. “No, I don’t. More than what?”
She raises her hands, palms up, to indicate the stage cloaked in a velvety red curtain in front of us. “This! This place where we have to pretend to be someone we’re not.” She turns to me with a glint of electricity in her blue eyes. “It’s not fair that you have to pretend you don’t love my brother because he’s nineteen and you’re sixteen.”
“Well, that’s not the only reason. I asked you to never tell him because I don’t want to get hurt. Then things would get awkward between you and me. Losing my best friend would be worse than never having Houston at all.”
She stares at me for a moment, then her mouth curls into that signature half smile she shares with Houston. “That’s completely corny.”
I roll my eyes and stare at the stage. “Whatever. I guess I’m corny, but I stand by what I said. Your friendship is more important to me than taking a chance with Houston.”
Her smile disappears and she sits back in her seat. “Friendship is more important.” She repeats these words and I get a weird feeling she’s not telling me something. “It’s the most important thing.”
“Without friendship, there’s no love,” I reply, though the phrase surprises even me.
Hallie nods in agreement. “No friendship, no love.” She sighs as she ponders this, then she turns to me. “I think you and Houston are gonna end up together.”
I try not to let her see how hearing these words come from her mouth makes me absurdly happy. “I doubt it. I’ll never have the courage to make that happen.”
“Maybe you won’t, but maybe someone else will.”
My eyes widen. “You wouldn’t!”
“No, not me. But you never know. Maybe one of these days Houston will finally get a clue and make it happen on his own.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “It would be kind of hard for him to get a clue when he’s ninety miles away.”
“Yeah, but you’ll be going to UO in a couple of years. Maybe you can show up at a party he’s at and pretend to be drunk. Then he’ll carry you back to your dorm and—Ew. I don’t want to imagine that.”
I give her a playful shove. “Stop it.”
She
laughs. “Yeah, you might not love him so much if you knew he used to sleep with my mom every time he got sick.”
“That’s adorable,” I say, feigning a dreamy smile.
She cocks one eyebrow. “The last time he did it he was thirteen.”
I imagine six-foot-four Houston lying in bed next to his petite momma. “Still adorable.”
“You’re sick.”
I laugh and we continue chatting until the seats fill up around us. When the curtains part, I hold my breath, as if I’m one of the actors on the stage waiting for my cue. Well, according to Hallie, I am an actor. I guess she’s right. I’ve gotten very good at pretending.
I pretend I don’t love Houston. I pretend I’m going to UO so I can study, when the only reason I’m going is to be near him. And worst of all, I pretend not to be afraid that I’ll never love anyone else.
After the show, Hallie and I walk home together arm-in-arm. It’s a bit chilly, but the sky is clear, so we don’t bother rushing home. We take our time, just breathing in the crisp autumn air and chatting about the play. We’re a block away from my house when I remember that Hallie never answered my question earlier.
“Hey, you never told me if you have a crush on someone. Is that why you were asking me about Houston?”
A small part of me is hoping she asked me about him because he mentioned me to her. But I know that’s next to impossible, so I make sure not to look too eager for her response. Still, the demure smile she’s wearing as she thinks about this question is making me nervous. I wish she would just hurry up and answer me.
