Dear Jon

by Lori L. Otto

  Of course I remember that first kiss. It was completely spontaneous, but my manners did intercede a little, moving me to tell her my intentions first. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind that I could attempt to kiss her, much less follow through, with all the studying I had done that day. But I needed a release from the building tension, and it was the only appropriate outlet I had. I was stressed about tests. I was nervous about our first official date. More than either of those feelings, though, in that moment, I was in love.

  Her beauty gave me the courage to ask and the confidence to accept her first kiss. I didn’t take it. She gave it willingly. Her inexperienced lips caught up quickly to mine, giving me the sensation I was desperate for, as well as the assurance that she wanted me just as badly as I wanted her.

  I am weak.

  IMPRESSIONS

  My aunt has such good intentions. Since I arrived to her home in Utah just over a week ago, she’s been talking about inviting people over to meet me. It’s been important to engage my brothers in social outings and sports activities so they can find some sense of belonging in this place that’s two thousand miles away from all they’ve ever known.

  I don’t need the stimulation. I’d rather be alone, do my work, read my books, and sleep, but I finally gave in to her gracious gesture. Last night, about eight families from her church came over for a cook out. Each of the families had a child around my age. There were six girls that spanned the ages of 17 to 20. The awkward introductions by my aunt made it blatantly obvious that she was trying to help me get over Livvy.

  I smiled and charmed them all. I never let on that I was inwardly screaming to go inside and shut myself into the converted craft room that had become my home for the summer. The guys were friendly. We talked about sports, and I recalled the headlines I’d scanned that morning–and every morning–to keep up with the banter.

  Most of the girls wore too much makeup. It was clear to me that they’d been prepped to hang out with me. A few mentioned that my aunt had told them I was “super smart,” that I was going to Columbia on a full scholarship, and that I was interested in architecture and art. One of them–more brazen than the rest–made a comment that no one told her I would be so hot. She stated she would have dressed differently, had she known. I couldn’t fathom what she would have worn instead. Already her tight shirt and ill-fitting skirt left little to the imagination. It was an instant turn-off.

  There was one girl, Susan, who reminded me of my Livvy. She’s not mine anymore. Still, when I spoke with her, I yearned to talk to Livvy. She was the youngest. She was Livvy’s age, but she had the sweet naïveté that Liv had when she was a few years younger, when we started to date. Those were a few of the things that made me fall so hard, and last night, some of those feelings were stirred up again. It had occurred to me I was free to ask her out on a date. I’d be betraying no one. I was trying to find a good segue in our conversation about a movie we had both recently seen.

  Then I thought about that movie. It was the movie I had seen with Livvy the night before her graduation. I didn’t know the ending because we didn’t stick around to see it. Instead, we fought, and that was the beginning of the end of us.

  In thinking back on that night, I thought about all the nights we’d had. The sequence was like the fast-rewind function on a home movie. It ended with that day I’d caught up with her after art class, when she was sweet and naïve.

  I pictured Susan instead of Livvy. My heart didn’t let me even pretend that Susan and I could have the happy ending that Livvy and I will never have. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel confident in myself enough to trust another girl with my affection.

  Instead of asking Susan out, I told her I wasn’t feeling well, and I retreated to the silence of my makeshift room, not even telling any of the other guests good night. I didn’t get her number, nor would I ask my aunt for it. There was no happily-ever-after in my future. My happily-ever-after kissed another guy. My happily-ever-after obliterated my heart and my ability to love another woman.

  “Jon?” Max says through the pine door.

  “Yeah, buddy?” I roll over on my side to see him better when he comes in.

  “Aunt Patty says dinner will be ready soon.”

  “Thanks. Did you help cook?”

  “Mm-hmm!” he says proudly. “We’re having strawbanoff. But it doesn’t have any fruit in it.”

  I laugh a little. “Stroganoff.”

  “I said that! Strawbanoff.”

  I shake my head at him, wishing he could stay bright-eyed and happy forever.

  “Oh, and you got a letter in the mail today.” When I don’t reach for it, he places it on the pillow in front of my face.

  “How long until dinner?” I ask him.

  “Ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  I love you, Jon.

  She might as well start these letters with, “I’m lying, Jon.” At least I’d believe her then.

  I expect the smell before it hits my nose, so the surprise is significantly lessened. The longing for her is, too.

  The rain nearly drowned you on the night you first spent time with my mother and father. I remember you telling me later that you almost lost the nerve to knock on our door that night, but that you didn’t want their initial thoughts of you to be that you were a disappointment to me.

  In the brief time you spent with my family at dinner, you went from kid-they’d-sponsored-at-Nate’s Art Room to respectable-young-man in their eyes. In mine, you went from boy-I’d-kissed to person-I-could-spend-my-life-with.

  I set the letter aside for a moment. I thought of her today, wishing she was still that person-I-could-spend-my-life-with. At the construction site, they brought in a large rock. It was about three feet high and five feet wide. From my vantage point, aside from its size, there was nothing spectacular about the stone.

  A crane eased it down slowly, carefully, as the owner of the house gave instruction. Just before it touched the ground, I noticed that the earth appeared to be cleared in just that spot.

  When the heavy machinery moved away, a woman joined the owner and they held one another while they looked at this rock. They kissed, took a picture of the lawn adornment, and then left in separate cars.

  Later in the day, as I returned from a short lunch break, I first saw the words “I will” painted in red carefully toward the bottom. It took me a second to focus on an inscription above that. It was meticulously drilled into the stone in a flowing typeface: Marry me.

  I felt silly, feeling sad as I stared at the sentiment, but it moved me.

  “This is the exact spot Mr. Tyson proposed,” the foreman said as he walked past. “They were regular hikers on the land, and they always rested on this spot to take in the view.”

  I turned around, giving myself a few seconds to look at the mountain that their home would overlook.

  “Jon?” Max is back. “Dinner is on the table.”

  For my brothers’ sakes, I love that we now eat together at a table, but I really want nothing more than to bring my plate into my room and eat alone.

  “Start without me,” I call out to him. “I’m finishing up something.” I pick up the letter again and keep reading.

  Your face lit up as you talked about your plans to go to Columbia, and then about your ideas of what you wanted to do with your life. Thinking back, it’s very inspiring to me. I want to do something that matters, too. I know I’ve messed up, but I think I can still do good things with my life.

  Remember what you said as you left that night? You told me not to worry about you.

  Jon, I’m worried. I know I’ve already said it, but I love you.

  And there she goes again with the empty words.

  We aren’t finished.

  This time, I seek out the message in paint. The color is pink.

  Impressions

  If she keeps telling me she loves me, it will eventually remove all meaning from the words. It’s actually a good thing, I
think. It’ll eventually make it easy to get over her, if I can take the emotions out of her words.

  I realize I don’t have to take the emotions out of them. She did that on her own. Feeling less broken-hearted all of a sudden, I decide to join my family at the dinner table.

  An hour later, I find the signed CD Livvy had bought me at the Grizzly Bear concert last New Year’s Eve. I’d avoided listening to our favorite band because there were so many memories attached to it, but I realize if I just start listening to it, over and over again, new memories will begin to mesh with the old ones, and dilute the nostalgia. It’s not fair for her to get my favorite band in the break-up. I should be able to hold on to some element of my former life. I’ll keep my music.

  REVERE

  When I get home from work, I check the mailbox on the way in. It’s Saturday, and the last letter was on Wednesday. Looking at the pattern of her previous letters, it seems about time to receive another.

  She doesn’t disappoint tonight.

  As soon as I think that, I realize she will disappoint me tonight, as soon as I read the first line. After setting the letter on my desk, I decide to take a shower before I open the envelope. My muscles sore, I let the hot water glide down my body as I try to figure out what this letter will say. Is she ever going to apologize? Wondering that makes me more tense, and I wish she was around to massage the pain from my muscles. I remember how she would kiss my right shoulder before she’d begin, every time. There’s a pang in my chest at that recollection.

  Missing her more than I want to admit, I leave the bathroom with only a towel around my body and go to my room, shutting and locking the door before grabbing the letter and sitting down on the bed.

  I shiver as the water continues to drip down my back from my wet hair.

  I love you, Jon.

  I was once a virgin.

  Heat overtakes my body at her statement. It’s an odd way to start a letter, but it’s a turn on, for sure. I can’t keep my mind from drifting to the night when she left that virgin behind. I glance at the door as I try to remember what my aunt told me their plans were. I just wonder when they’ll be home. Finding moments of solitude are admittedly difficult here. Being in a nice bed with sheets that don’t belong to me makes what I want to do right now more taboo.

  I should have taken care of this in the shower. The urge wasn’t as bad then. I start the letter again.

  I was once a virgin.

  The night you found out I was a virgin was also the night I found out you were not. Your admission was a blow to my own confidence, and I was at first afraid you wouldn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t experienced, like you were.

  I was disappointed in you. I felt betrayed–”

  “Don’t talk to me about betrayal!” I yell to myself, crumpling up the letter and throwing it on the carpet across the room. I’m so on edge, I feel like I might lose it tonight. I have to get rid of the tension. I decide to take advantage of my family’s absence, even at the risk of them coming home. The door’s locked, and I think this will be quick.

  My go-to fantasy is my reality, my history. I return to Mykonos, where we washed away all the sins of our past and started our lives over again, together. I felt as pure as she actually was after we showered with each other. That was the first time she’d ever been fully naked in front of me. I’d seen most of her, taken a peek of nearly all of her, in our chaste moments of passion before that night, but altogether, she was her own work of art. The way her eyes widened as she first had a full glimpse of my body became the focal point of that gorgeous living, breathing artwork. Whoever her parents were, they had created perfection. Perfection looked up at me with a shy smile, and I was humbled that she had decided to be with me.

  Impatient, I allow my thoughts to skip past the tentative moments, the gentle ones when I tried to put her mind and body at ease. Instead, I think of the seconds after she let go of my hand and moved her fingers to hold my body closer to hers.

  As I suspected, it doesn’t take long to alleviate the tension. What I don’t anticipate are the tears that follow. It doesn’t take long to wipe those away, either.

  I miss her so much.

  After cleaning up and putting on some clothes, I pick up the letter again and try to smooth the paper into a flat sheet.

  I was disappointed in you. I felt betrayed by you, not considering what your life had been like in between the time you left the Art Room and the time we started dating. There were months that I didn’t know anything about you. They were difficult months, following the death of a man you loved. I knew I had no right to feel betrayed. I had to understand, to forgive actions I never even needed to know about. Thank you for confiding in me, Jon. Thank you for telling me about your moments of need. I understand more now than I did before.

  When I look back on that night, I look back in sheer admiration at the man I was getting to know. You quoted beautiful poetry to me. You took me to a special place where neither of us had gone before. You taught me things I didn’t know. You showed me things I’d never seen. You didn’t make me feel like the prettiest girl in the world–you made me feel like the only girl in the world.

  You were the only boy in my world. You still are.

  We aren’t finished.

  Anxious, I read the word scrawled in red paint.

  Revere

  My eyes lingering on the word, I catch the double meaning. The restaurant I took her to was One If By Land, Two If By Sea, which came from Longfellow’s “Paul Revere’s Ride.” In this letter, she also talks about her admiration for me.

  I gather the previous three letters in my desk drawer and look at the footnotes of each. Declaration. Weak. Impressions. Revere. She’s summarizing the theme of each letter at the bottom of each page. Maybe she’s giving me the opportunity to decide whether or not I want to read the letter by glancing at the bottom of the page first. How simple. How kind of her.

  I wonder when the Why I Cheated letter will come.

  SECRETS

  After my first week of work, the laborious tasks around the site are becoming easier. I can lift more, and I’m not as exhausted when I get home. For the first time in my life, I’m seeing actual definition in my muscles. It’s a novelty I’d like to celebrate with a girlfriend, someone who could appreciate the newfound strength, but as with a lot of things in my life, the timing is off. Just like when Livvy kissed Finn. I wonder what would have happened had I made my presence known right away. Would they have ever shared that moment? Were true feelings exposed that day that they both had been hiding?

  I may never know.

  On my bed sits a book. I recognize the author, but I don’t have any desire to read best-selling thrillers. Whoever bought this for me has good intentions, I’m sure, but this was a waste of their money. I pick it up to give it to Will, hoping that it might spark some interest in him. He needs to read more.

  Hidden beneath the book is another letter. I leave it behind as I go to the room my brothers have been sharing.

  “Will,” I say from the doorway, his back to me as he plays a game on an old console and a small television. It’s still a total luxury to anything I had growing up.

  “Huh?” He doesn’t look up.

  “Pause it.” He doesn’t argue or question me. Had it been my mother, I know there would have been push-back, but he respects me.

  “What’s up?”

  “Want this book? It’s, like, a spy thing, I think.”

  “Nah.”

  “Let me ask again. Will you do me a favor and read this book? I thought it would be cool for us to do something together.”

  “Reading is a solitary thing, Jon,” he says.

  “But we can talk about it. You might learn something.”

  “How to be a spy? That’s not really my ambition.”

  I laugh at his response. “What’s your ambition?”

  “I’m gonna be a professional gamer.”

  I stare at him blankly. I want to tell him the kids
they hire for that have been playing since they were three. I feel the need to explain to him that the box he’s playing on is five years old, and so far behind, technologically, that he wouldn’t know what to do with today’s games. I decide to let him dream, eventually smiling and nodding, trying not to look condescending.

  “You might learn something about women,” I explain. “Don’t tell Mom, but I know there’s a fair amount of sex in this guy’s books.” There’s not. He’ll find that out after he’s read it, though.

  He shrugs his shoulders, but reaches out for the book.

  “Let me know when you want to talk about it.”

  “Cool,” he says simply. “It’s your week to cook,” he adds.

  “Yep. I’m making pizza tonight. Actually, I’ve hired someone to do it for me since I just got paid. It should be here in thirty minutes.”

  “Awesome!” It took some arm-twisting to get Aunt Patty to let me order in. I whole-heartedly agreed with her that it wasn’t the best nutritional choice for my brothers, but I knew it was their favorite meal, and something we didn’t have very often at home. The compromise was that I had to add lots of veggies to the pie. I didn’t argue, knowing that my picky brothers would take off any toppings they didn’t like. I ordered a large salad, too. Drowned in Ranch dressing, Max and Will will eat just about anything.

  “Why don’t you read until dinner?”

  “Cool.” Will moves to his bed and opens up the novel. I grab the letter before heading to the kitchen to set the table, wanting to get everything ready for dinner so I could have a few minutes to myself before the pizza arrives.

  I didn’t expect another letter from Livvy so soon. At what point do I not set aside time for her to read stories of our past? All I know is it’s not today.

  I love you, Jon.

  I try to remember what her voice sounded like when she would say it to me. It always depended on the situation. On the phone, there was a slight whine to her tone since it was most often said when we were hanging up. In front of people, it was playful, no syllable repeating the same tone as her voice lilted with her sweet smile.