I drop my bag on the hood of my trunk and lean next to Hope. Spring shows signs all around us, but the chill in the air holds. Hope shivers in her thick coat and I move nearer. My eyes scour her face, studying her wide eyes, taking in the little freckle on her cheek, her round face and generous lips.
I haven’t kissed those lips yet. Two months since senior night and we’ve done nothing more than hold hands and toy with some kind of relationship.
“Carmen warned me. She said you won’t commit, and of course I knew that. I’ve watched you date girl after girl for years. You never have a . . .” Her mouth moves, but I zone out.
Where do we stand? Why haven’t we taken things to the next level? I’d intended on clarifying things with her before Spring Break. Then I opened the mail. And a picture fell out. My hands shook as I knelt and flipped that picture over.
Staring back at me was a beautiful girl in a shiny green dress. Her hair was all curled up and piled on her head, the same way Amber wore hers to Junior Prom last year. It looked brownish-red, I couldn't tell from the way she was wearing it. Next to her was Jimmy. The Kretyn. I forced my eyes from Ruby to her letter.
Brett,
Haha! Misery? Oh geez. Whatever you do, don’t get yourself caught driving in a blizzard.
Jimmy took me out to dinner and bowling for my birthday. I never knew how badly I sucked at throwing a ball down an alley until last weekend. No matter how many times I attempted to change my form, my limbs didn’t want to cooperate. Best for me to stick to facts and dancing.
You don’t know what a relief it was to see your letter. I really needed it today. It’s been one of those days, you know? I really wish my mom were here. I used to talk to her about everything, and today her advice could’ve put me at ease. I don’t expect advice from you, but maybe some insight from a boy.
If a girl were to...how do I put this? If a girl stopped you from going farther than she was comfortable with, how would that make you feel? Would you be angry or feel rejected?
Mitchell and I dated for 3 years, but since we started dating as freshman everything went pretty slow. Maybe I’m inexperienced since Mitchell is the only other boy I’ve ever dated. And now I’m embarrassed about asking. Oh well, can’t scratch it out now.
As you probably noticed, I enclosed a picture of yours truly and Jimmy. Sorry, I don’t have any red shoes or I’d have sent a picture in ruby slippers just for you. It’s from Sweethearts, in case it’s not obvious from the styrofoam hearts and floral covered archway behind us. It’s the most recent picture I have. I’ll have to send one with my new nose ring at another time! It’s pretty snazzy, if I do say so myself. I can’t believe I wrote that.
Would you seriously get a tattoo?? If you did, what would you get? The thought of a tattoo has always intrigued me, but I don’t know if there is anything I want permanently inked on my body. Nor would I be able to decide where to put it! So much pressure!
Hopefully you did well on your midterms. I think I did pretty okay on mine, but I guess I will have to wait and see!
~Ruby
P.S. Your turn! I showed you mine, now you show me yours!
P.P.S. That sounded so dirty. I did not intend that in the slightest. If you could see my face right now it would be bright red.
P.P.P.S. (is that even a thing?) Just send me a picture of you!
Darn Ruby for her quirky letters and making me laugh. Darn her for reaching out to us at all. Darn her for being so pretty, for making me think—
“. . . I don’t want to be strung along, Brett. We’ve been friends forever and if that’s all we’re going to be, it’s fine. I just need to know. The problem is I like . . .”
No. No, that’s not true. My letters to—and from—Ruby are special. They’re simple conversations about everyday life, but there’s something about them, about us, that’s different from all of my other friendships. Seeing her picture shook me. My jealousy spiked at her mention of a boy moving too fast with her. The letter messed with my head so much, I did the only plausible thing. I ignored it the entire time I was at Gram’s and made no mention of receiving it to Ruby in my letters. I need to reply, though; I need to—
Hope slaps my arm to get my attention. “Are you even listening?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry.” I look at Hope and I see Ruby. “I don’t . . . I mean, yeah, I’m listening.”
Ruby’s in California. Ruby has Jimmy. Ruby isn’t real. She’s words and letters, bottled messages and paper planes. Hope is here. Hope loves Amber, Hope loved Mom and Dad. Hope could love me. Oh! Crap, crap, and triple crap! That’s what she said while I was barely listening to her, isn’t it?
“I’ll go. I can see I’ve stressed you out.”
“What?” I force myself to be present in this moment. “No, Hope, there’s a lot going on with Cole, and graduation, and—” I exhale. “Come here.”
Her blue eyes turn weary as she tilts forward, leaning into my chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I take in her scent. This is real. She is real, and here. I cradle Hope’s face between my hands, drawing her near until our lips graze. “This is where we stand.”
***
I write Ruby a paper plane before bed, dedicating it: “This one represents the childhood we lost that day. Will we ever be carefree again?”
I LOVE YOUR SMILE
Ruby
Wednesday, April 14
“Hey, Dad.” I smile as I slide into the passenger’s seat of his car. “Did you get off work early?”
“Hi, Roo.” He smiles back and turns down the old school rock on the radio. “I did, so I decided to let Nana off the hook and come get you from dance so we could go out and grab something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like cooking.”
Thank goodness. “Eating out sounds good to me.”
“Are you ready for the competition this weekend?”
“I hope so. Janet worked with me all afternoon on my cross firebird leap and my fouetté arabesque jump. I feel much better about my solo.”
“I have no idea what all of that means, but it sounds good.”
For as long as I can remember, Dad has only gotten off work early one other time. When Mom’s plane went down.
“Is everything okay?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah. It’s fine. It’s fine, honey.”
It’s not fine. He’s too quiet. The concerned crease is deep between his eyebrows.
“Dad.”
He heavily exhales. “I picked up the mail today when I got home.”
My heart leaps. Did I get a letter from Brett?
Oh, crap. I probably got a letter from Brett.
“Who is Brett Pratt?”
I’m not going to lie, but I know he’s not going to be happy about me writing to a total stranger.
“He lost his parents on Flight 397.”
The color drains from Dad’s face. “I see.”
Something in me wants to protect Brett from Dad. Or maybe Dad from Brett. Thinking of someone in connection to the flight may only cause suppressed emotions to resurface, but I don’t want him to think poorly of Brett either. I instigated this relationship. If there’s any blame to be placed, let it be placed on me. “I wrote to him first. Well, I wrote to his sister—his twin sister. But he got the letter instead, and we began writing back and forth. We’ve been writing since January.”
There’s a thoughtful look in his tired eyes as he focuses on the winding road. “Is he why you’ve been smiling more?”
He noticed that? “I guess so. We understand each other, you know?”
His nod is solemn. “I’m sorry I haven’t really been here for you, Roo.”
“Dad,” I stop him. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“No, I do. I might be hurting, but it doesn’t mean my pain is more important than yours.”
“I know you don’t feel that way. You’re doing the best you can. And I’ve had Nana.”
He slips me a glance. “But you’ve needed me, too. I want you to kn
ow I’m here. You clearly feel alone enough that you felt the need to write a complete stranger on the other side of the country.”
“Not because of you though, Dad.” My hand reaches out, resting on his arm. “Brett’s my age. He gets things on my level. Friends. The stress of senior year mixed with the grief. There are things no one else could possibly empathize with. But he can. Think of it as extra help, not a replacement.”
Nodding, he tucks his lips between his teeth. “Okay. As long as he keeps making you smile.”
I guess we’ll find out if that will continue when I read Brett’s letter waiting at home for me.
“I’ve missed your smile.”
I’ve missed yours, too.
***
I stare at my ceiling as I lay in bed before going to sleep. Not only do I have my stars to gaze at, Brett’s paper planes hang from the ceiling by fishing line above me. Wishes floating through the universe that were lost. Wishes that will never be granted. But, also, they’re a reminder for me to never stop dreaming; never stop having hope in a future because inside every one of those paper planes lies a reason to smile, a reason to laugh, a reason life is worth living.
EVERYBODY HURTS
Brett
THURSDAY, APRIL 15
I can’t think today.
I call the school. Amber and I are staying home.
One phone call has us both devastated and relieved.
Relieved isn’t the word. Comfort? Closure?
I don’t know what it is. My door creaks open and Amber tiptoes in.
Words aren’t necessary. I scoot over and she lays beside me, wrapping herself in the blanket she dragged in.
We spend the morning this way. In bed crying, sleeping, and crying again.
Cole sleeps on the couch. He speaks with Gram.
Hope arrives around lunch and climbs in between Amber and me. She hugs my sister with one arm and holds my hand with the other.
Somewhere in the midst of fog lingering in my numb mind, I picture Ruby and all of the letters where she mentions her mother. I wish I had her phone number, so I could call her. Is she lying in bed today, too? Amber rolls off the bed and Hope turns. She kisses my cheek and presses her head to my chest.
I push Ruby away.
I can’t think today.
THOUGHT I’D DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN
Ruby
FRIDAY, APRIL 16
I pull the paper plane and a picture from the envelope, holding my breath. And all at once, I release it.
Holy hotness.
That’s who I’ve been writing to? The rapid fluttering of my heart won’t be slowing down any time soon. Brett’s hair is darker than I imagined. And those eyes. Goodness they’re blue. The kind of blue that if I were an artist, I’d never be able to replicate it. And if that’s Hope, I don’t stand a chance. She’s gorgeous.
Wait. Wait a second. Where did that thought come from? I don’t think of Brett like that. Do I?
Even if I did stand a chance against Hope, we live on opposite sides of the country. We’ll be going to colleges on opposite sides of the country.
Stop it, Ruby. I’m not thinking clearly. Obviously the photo has clouded my judgment.
Hi Ruby!
By the time you get this letter you will already have my spring break ones. I bet you’re going to be mad at me for not replying to your last note. I received the letter and your picture the day before Amber and I left for Florida. I’m going to be honest here, I didn’t know how to respond. Seeing you made you real. Making you real...well, it complicated things. In my last letter I asked you why I had the feeling I would tell you everything one day. I’m still asking myself that.
I guess it’s the same as you asking me about how I would feel if a girl put the brakes on (which, by the way, I would be okay with. I have a sister. I would never want a girl to be uncomfortable about anything we did). You’re asking me personal questions. We’re sharing personal feelings. It’s nothing I expected. I’m sorry I left you hanging. I needed a few days to get my head on straight.
I’m glad Jimmy treated you well on your birthday. He looks like a nice guy. You wore Emerald City green to your dance. Was that on purpose? Honestly, you looked beautiful. I hope you don’t mind me saying so. You’re beautiful, Ruby, and all of those feelings as though you aren’t good enough or you’re out of someone’s league—that’s crap.
Okay, you showed me yours, so I’m showing you mine. I’d send you a picture of Hope and me, but I don’t have one since we just became an official couple. Two years of teasing and two months of flirting and we finally decided to take the plunge. Amber loves taking pictures so I’ll have her take one I can share with you soon. For today, though, you get Amber and I. This was taken by our mom last spring. As you can see, for twins, we don’t look much alike. We have the same blue eyes, but that’s about it. They’re our dad’s eyes. I wasn’t sure if they came from my mom or dad until I met Cole.
Imagine my heavy sigh here.
Cole is my older brother. My older, illegitimate brother. The one who my dad didn’t know about until Cole was 16. Amber and I were 8. Cole met us once and hated us all. He didn’t come back around until 3 years ago. He had my—his—dad for all of two years, Ruby. Two. There was still a lot of anger and burden in our family when the crash happened. We were all still trying to figure things out. Then Cole stepped up and took on the responsibility of watching over Amber and me so we could stay here in Pennsylvania and graduate. I’m still trying to figure out how to thank him for what he’s done for us. I’m just figuring out how to care for this guy who shares the same dad, and now he’s moving. That’s the bad news I never shared.
I want to be angry with him. We lost our parents. We shouldn’t lose our new brother, too. Not so soon! But he’s 26. He’s a doctor—or an intern—and he gave up his dream hospital for a year to help us. How could I fault him for leaving now? I know we’re going to school next year anyway, but there’s something about him being in another state that makes me afraid we’ll lose touch. Like our bond isn’t strong enough to keep us together. He doesn’t have the memories we have of Dad. He could walk away.
That’s so stupid, isn’t it?
—Brett
There’s so much to process.
Brett is in pain, and I want to take it away, but I don’t know how. These aren’t parental grieving sessions anymore. He’s right. We’ve gotten personal. And I love it. I love that we can be more than our sadness. But are we crossing a line? Have we gotten too personal for mere pen pals who will probably never meet? Are we investing in a relationship that will eventually fade? If so, I don’t care.
My cheeks hurt from smiling. Brett thinks I’m beautiful.
Our house phone rings. I reach for the portable phone on my night stand. “Hello?”
“Hey, Ruby, how’s it hangin’?”
“Jimmy, hi!” I clear my head and shift away thoughts of Brett. This feels like things are about to get complicated.
WOULD I LIE TO YOU
Brett
FRIDAY, APRIL 16
Ruby,
I don’t know about you, but I stopped watching the news updates on 397 after the second month of speculation. I remember how I found out. It wasn’t a call from the airline or the authorities. It was from a friend of my dad's who was watching television and saw the breaking news headline. An explosion, an airplane down—my head can’t wrap around these things.
It never mattered what happened or why. 234 people died in a plane crash a few miles off the coast of Long Island, including my parents. That’s what mattered.
Ten months later, almost to the date, and we get a call. The medical examiner was able to positively identify remains belonging to Joseph and Caroline Pratt.
They’ve been found. They aren’t on that deserted island, Ruby. I was kind of hoping your theory was right. It’s so much better than the alternative. Now we know.
As I write this, I worry about you. I worry you will be angry with me, n
ow that I get this so-called closure of having proof my parents are dead. If it helps at all, I can tell you, there’s no closure. Only sadness. I feel sad. Amber feels sad. Cole feels sad.
I don’t think it will ever go away, but I’ll keep moving forward. I’ll keep picking up all those pieces I lost after the crash, and I’ll put myself back together. I’ll put Amber back together. And if you need me to, I’ll help put you back together, too.
This plane is the glue. The glue of a family member lost, and the glue of a new friend putting the pieces back together. That’s what you do for me, and what—I hope—I do for you, with each one of these letters.
Love, Brett
My eyes burn as I fold the letter into a paper plane, seal it in an envelope, and walk it to the mailbox. Hope’s car drives up to the curb in front of the house. I rub the moisture from my eyes. Green buds peek through the mulch around our mailbox. Mom’s bulbs. Spring is officially here.
“Hey,” Hope waves. It’s after school? Somehow the day got away from me.
“Hey, yourself.” I rest my elbows on the open window of her car, leaning in. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we could go for a hike, or hang out. It’s a gorgeous day, isn’t it?” Her fingers graze my forearm “I missed you at school today.”
I step back, the concrete cool on my bare feet, as Hope removes her keys and climbs out of the car. She approaches me the way a skittish animal moves toward a new human in its presence. Dealing with Amber and I in the after-math of the crash was difficult for her. She worried about saying the wrong things when she’d stop by. I don’t want her to worry about being around me again.
Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost Page 11
