A Thousand Letters

by Staci Hart

* * *

  -M. White

  * * *

  Elliot

  I was in my room when I heard the knock on the door at ten sharp, right on time. I smiled to myself, glad I'd have Jack's company while I ran my errands, thankful to know I wouldn't have to talk about Rick or bear the responsibility of anyone else like I did when I was at the Winters' house. It was just a simple morning with a friend.

  I grabbed my bag and headed up the stairs, surprised to find Mary in the doorway, hissing at Jack, who straightened up and smiled when he saw me. Mary turned around, her face hard.

  "I need you home tonight," she snapped. "I'm on the night shift, and Charlie's got work to do."

  I nodded. "No problem, I'll pick up the kids and take care of dinner."

  She was scowling at me, but I barely registered it, just stepped past her and onto the stoop.

  "Morning," Jack said with a smile. "You ready?"

  I smiled back. "I am, thanks."

  He looked over my shoulder at my sister. "See you around, Mary."

  "Whatever," she popped and shut the door.

  "Wonder what's gotten into her," he said as we walked down the steps.

  I chuckled and adjusted my hat. "Who knows."

  "She treats you like that a lot."

  "Most of the time."

  He shook his head, eyes on me. "Why do you put up with it?"

  I smiled over at him, not minding the judgment. "Charlie asked me the same thing the other day."

  "Well, he's a smart guy."

  I sighed, knowing it was futile to try to explain but trying all the same. "Mary's harmless. She's demanding, sure, but … well, she's just Mary. I don't take it personally, though everyone else seems to on my behalf." I gave him a look, softened by a small smile.

  "Can you blame us for being concerned for your well-being?"

  "No, and I appreciate it. It reminds me that I'm cared for, but you have to understand that this is how my life has always been. So I've learned to find joy where I can."

  "That makes me sad, Elliot. To think that you endure people who treat you with no respect just to be noble."

  I frowned. "That's not why. I barely interact with Mary most of the time — I'm working at the bookstore or alone with the kids every day, caring for them in the evenings, and then writing when they're asleep."

  "Sounds lonely."

  It is. I brushed the thought away. "I have Sophie and my friends at the bookstore. And anyway, I don't have to endure much at all usually — it's not so bad when my father is gone. Mary is easy enough to ignore. All of them are, really, if one puts one's mind to it."

  He chuckled at that.

  "You have to believe me when I say that they've always been this way. Unhappy. Dissatisfied."

  He considered my words. "But you're not?"

  "I am right now, but not because of them."

  Jack nodded. "He means a lot to you."

  Wade. But Jack couldn't know about Wade. "Rick?" I clarified anyway.

  "He's your mentor, right?"

  "You could say that. He's inspired me, believed in me always. Convinced me to go to college and get my degree, though I still have no real use for it. He's the reason I write."

  "Poetry, right? Ever published anything?

  I brushed my hair from my face. "No, not quite brave enough for that yet."

  "Do you let anyone read it?" he prodded with a mischievous look on his face.

  "Sometimes."

  He smiled playfully. "Would you let me read it?"

  I smiled back. "Maybe someday, if you prove yourself to be trustworthy."

  "Me? Untrustworthy?" he asked with mock drama.

  I laughed. "I've seen you play cards."

  "That's fair," he said with a smirk.

  "So, where to first?"

  "Well," he started, "there's a toy store where I think we can find your planetarium. I've got most of the gear, which we can get at my place, but there are a few things I don't have. So let's hit up the little shop where I get my gear."

  "Sounds great."

  "Maybe we can grab lunch too. I should feed you, since we're on a date and all."

  I laughed, but he didn't, he just kept smiling at me. "You're serious."

  He shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

  I blinked, feeling a flush in my cheeks. "Well, I don't know. I've known you for years and you've never …"

  "Hit on you? Well, I had a girlfriend before. But I've always noticed you, Elliot."

  Discomfort niggled at me on the wings of surprise, and with a lack of anything better to say, I deferred to my manners. "Thank you."

  "You really are beautiful. I don't think you know it. You look a lot like Mary but smaller, softer. Kinder."

  More blinking. "That's sweet, Jack, but—"

  He sucked in a breath. "I'm about to get shot down, aren't I?"

  My cheeks were warm, and I opened my mouth to speak, but he saw me coming and headed me off.

  "How about we don't label it? Let's just hang out, grab some lunch, and pick up what you need. Everything else will sort itself out. What do you say?"

  He looked so hopeful, so sweet that I couldn't say no. Instead, I smiled and gave him the only answer I could.

  "Deal."

  * * *

  The day went by quickly, full of easy conversation. I'd always liked Jack but had never really thought about him in the way he seemed to be thinking about me. I wasn't sure I was thinking about him that way now, but he was so charming. So easy.

  But as we walked from store to store, from café to coffee shop, I tried to consider him, tried to think about what it would be like to date him. It wasn't hard to imagine; he insisted on buying my lunch, guided me through doors with his hand on the small of my back, smiled at me like I was the only girl in the world. But that consideration kept bringing me back to Wade, and the comparison of the two left me in a lurch. Wade could walk into a room and command my heart and soul without speaking a word. I'd been around Jack a hundred times, and now for an afternoon where he touched me and smiled at me, and still I hadn't found myself with feelings for him other than the fondness of a friend.

  At one point in the afternoon, I found myself frustrated, wondering why I couldn't just go for him. On paper, he was perfect: a successful entrepreneur, charmer, and overall beautiful man. In my heart, he was lacking; there was no spark, nothing to inspire my feelings for him to grow.

  Maybe Wade had broken me more than I'd even known. Maybe I wasn't capable of love.

  Even with my mind drifting, we spent an amiable day together, finding everything we needed. Jack wouldn't let me buy anything from the camping store and paid for it himself, insisting that he'd use it that spring. And by the time we were finished there, it was nearly time to pick up the kids.

  We weren't far from the school, and Jack was in the middle of a story that had me laughing up at him. When I turned to look ahead of me, I slowed, stumbling a little.

  Wade stood in front of us, hands deep in the pockets of his wool coat, collar flipped and brow low. He looked angry, angry and hurt and silent as stone.

  "W-Wade," I stammered, my cheeks flushing as we approached him.

  He nodded, jaw flexing as his cool eyes landed on Jack.

  "We, ah, we were just shopping for tomorrow night," I offered, feeling strangely ashamed, as if I'd been caught, as if I owed him an explanation.

  "Same thing," he said, two gruff words. "Had to pick up a few things."

  He watched me with the weight of a thousand years, and no one spoke for a long moment.

  Jack smiled amiably and extended a hand. "How's it going? I'm Jack."

  Wade took his hand, gripping it hard as he pumped once and let it go. "Wade," was all he offered.

  Another awkward moment passed. "So, I'm guessing you're Sophie's brother?" Jack asked.

  He nodded, a single bob of his chin. My heart thumped its warning; the softness I'd seen in him yesterday had vanished, taking my hope with it, leaving behind a cold
shell of a man, hardened to steel.

  "I'm sorry to hear about your dad," Jack continued as if everything were normal. Maybe to everyone but Wade and me, it seemed that way. "Hopefully the stuff we got today will bring him some happiness."

  "Thanks," Wade said, the word flat, colorless. "I'd better be going." He turned his gaze to me, the chill slipping all the way into my marrow. "See you tomorrow, Elliot."

  "See you," I echoed feebly as Jack touched the small of my back.

  "Nice to meet you," Jack said, but Wade's eyes were fixed on Jack's arm.

  He said nothing, just gave another curt nod before blowing past us.

  Jack watched him over his shoulder, guiding me forward with his hand on my back, a protective gesture that gave me no strength. "Well, isn't he cheery."

  "His father's dying," I said quietly.

  His eyes were still on Wade's back. "That's not really an excuse to be rude."

  I didn't have the heart to say that it was because of me. The moments we shared, those glimpses of him that I caught when he let me in, let me through, it was all erased in an instant. We'd barely spoken, had barely seen each other, and now he acted as if he held claim to me, as if I'd ruined him all over again. As if I still held the power over him that he held over me.

  And the worst part of it all: after an entire day with a handsome, charming man who wanted me, with a single sighting of Wade, I realized I would never get over him. Not as long as I lived.

  Wade

  I couldn't stop walking.

  My tasks were forgotten, my list forgotten, wiped out at the sight of Elliot with him.

  Jack.

  The word was a curse as I walked aimlessly around the Upper West, replaying the meeting over and over again as if I could will another outcome into existence. As if I could erase the image of her smiling at him. As if I could eradicate the sound of her laughter. As if I could break the hand that touched her back.

  Coming home to find Ben had shifted something in me, given me hope, given me strength. Given me purchase against the shifting ground I found myself on. All night, I'd thought about the possibility of her. All day, I'd considered what I would say. I'd let myself hope, hope that was dashed by the sight of her by his side.

  She'd moved on, and the realization left me reeling.

  I was stupid to think she'd never gotten over me like I hadn't gotten over her. It hadn't even crossed my mind that she could have a boyfriend, that she could have been dating someone. That someone could be interested in her, and she in him. Because the way she looked at him, the way he was smiling at her — it all spoke of happiness, togetherness.

  It never even occurred to my one-track mind because I'd never moved on, never imagined I could or would. Never even tried. And now that it had occurred to me, I couldn't shake the maddening thought of her with another man.

  Maybe he was better for her. He was here, after all, available. I was unavailable, and I would be leaving again. Always leaving. If she cared about him, I'd let her be. There would be no telling her how I felt, not if she was happy. I wouldn't get in the way of her happiness.

  But that didn't mean I was happy about it.

  I turned the corner and found myself on my street, my feet carrying me home on their own, and I stormed into the house, not sure what else to do. It was quiet — I found Sophie on the couch next to Dad, both napping. Sadie was nowhere to be seen, and I heard voices in the kitchen … Lou and Ben, I realized as I approached.

  Lou was laughing, and she laid a hand on Ben's arm where it rested on the island counter. He leaned toward her, smiling, and relief slipped over me at her redirected attention.

  She caught sight of me as I walked into the room and pulled her hand back, cheeks flushing. "Wade," she said, and Ben looked over his shoulder, frowning when he saw me.

  "You okay?"

  I ran a hand through my hair. "Yeah."

  He gave me a look that said he knew I was full of shit.

  Lou slipped off her stool. "I should get going. Dinner's in the fridge with heating instructions. I'll, ah, see you tomorrow?"

  I gave her a nod and pulled open the refrigerator door, reaching for a beer.

  "Let me walk you out," Ben said as he followed her out, hand on her back.

  I twisted the cap off and took a long drink, leaning on the counter with damp hands for support.

  They chatted in the entryway for a minute before I heard the door open and close, and seconds later, Ben was getting a beer of his own. He didn't say anything until he was seated across from me.

  "What happened? Is … is this about Lou? I didn't think … I mean, if you're into her, I'll back off, no questions."

  I huffed and rolled my eyes. "My cousin? No. This isn't about my cousin."

  He looked relieved, pointing the neck of his beer at me. "Cousin by marriage. That was a reasonable question."

  I took another heavy drink, nearly draining it before setting it on the counter. "I'm not interested in Lou. She's all yours."

  He smiled. "Thank you. I haven't wanted to bring it up with everything going on, but …" He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. "I'm into her. Really into her."

  I blinked, surprised.

  I could tell when he started rambling just how bad it was. "I asked her early on about you — I thought you guys might have had a thing by the way she acted around you. But she said it was just a crush, that she didn't really get it before me." He paused. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

  I nodded, feeling my lips flatten at the memory of Elliot, at the memory of hope. "I do."

  Ben shook his head in wonder. "It felt like that. Like I'd been zapped by electricity. Like there was no one in the room but me and her. I didn't think it was real, but now I'm almost certain I was wrong."

  "I'm happy for you and Lou."

  He sighed. "Thanks. It feels good. I only wish I didn't have to leave so soon." There was pain and worry behind his eyes that I knew all too well.

  "I have a feeling you'll make it."

  His smile was earnest. "I hope so." He leaned on the surface of the bar, his smile falling as he spoke. "So if you're not upset about Lou …"

  My jaw flexed, teeth clenching almost painfully. "I saw Elliot."

  He waited. "You've seen her every day this week."

  "I saw her with a guy."

  "Ah," he said knowingly and with lament. "Boyfriend?"

  "I don't know. Seemed that way."

  "Did Sophie mention she was seeing someone?"

  "We don't discuss Elliot. Ever." I killed my beer and walked over to the fridge for another.

  "Well, maybe it's nothing. Maybe he's just a friend."

  I twisted the cap and dropped it on the counter with a clink as I took a swig, wishing I could drown the part of me that cared.

  "Doesn't matter," I said, wishing it did.

  Ben watched me, and I avoided his eyes, fixing my gaze across the room at nothing in particular.

  "If it doesn't matter, why are you upset?" he asked.

  "Because." I paused, wishing I could leave it at that, but there was no hiding from Ben. "I thought … I thought she felt like I did. I thought she couldn't be with anyone else." The words were quiet, my eyes still distant. "But it was just me. She found a way to move on. Why couldn't I?"

  He didn't answer for a moment, and I'm not sure I expected one as I dug through my feelings, the sensation like cold hands through muddy earth.

  "You loved her, and you still do. What you've been through, what we've been through, the war, the isolation … it changes us, makes it harder to let go. It's rigid, our lives. And you never stopped loving her."

  I leaned on the counter and dropped my head to my hands, slipping my fingers into my hair. "I don't know how to stop."

  "But you don't want to be with her?"

  "What I want isn't an option. What I want died seven years ago. What I want doesn't want me. I made sure of that a long time ago."

  His brows knit together. "You d
on't know that for sure because you still haven't talked to her."

  I didn't answer, just pulled in a long breath through my nose and let it out.

  "Ask Sophie about the guy."

  "And what good does that do me?"

  "It'll ease your mind. Or not. But then you'll know for sure."

  I lifted my head to meet his eyes. "And then what do I do? Ask her out on a date?" I shook my head at the ridiculousness of the thought. "Two issues: There are too many problems between us and not enough solutions, and I'm not here for her. I'm here for him." I pointed toward the library. "I shouldn't even be thinking about her. I shouldn't want her, not now. It's impossible, Ben."

  "Nothing's impossible. Do you really think there's no way to bridge the gap here? You haven't spoken to her in seven years. The last real conversation you had, you broke up. You were eighteen. You don't think there's even a slight chance you could talk? Forgive each other? Make amends?"

  I shook my head, eyes on the surface of the island. "You don't understand. It's not just what she said or what I said — it's deeper than that." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "It wasn't what was done, it was what wasn't done. And now I've changed, and so has she. There's no going back."

  "Then go forward."

  I shook my head, looking away. "It's not that easy."

  "Sometimes it's exactly that easy."

  I blinked at him, hearing echoes of Elliot's voice, wondering for the first time if I should take my own advice.

  12

  Limbo

  The in-between

  The purgatory

  Of floating

  Like vapor

  And mist

  Uncontained.

  * * *

  -M. White

  * * *

  Elliot

  The next morning, we sat on the floor in the living room as Sammy and Maven laughed from Jack's back. It was early, but Jack had insisted he come over before I took the kids to school to bring everything for the camp-in tonight, since we hadn't had time to pick it up the day before.

  I couldn't help but smile as Jack whinnied, crawling around in circles. Dad laughed before taking a sip of his gin, then glanced at me meaningfully.