Paper Planes and Other Things We Lost

by Michele G Miller

  Love, Brett

  P.S. Enclosed are two pictures for you. One of your mom and one of you. I hope you like them.

  IF I DIDN’T HAVE YOU

  Ruby

  MONDAY, JUNE 28

  My heart longs for a time before all it did was miss Brett. And it’s ridiculous. It’s only been a couple weeks without a letter from him, and it’s killing me. I’ll write you . . . sometime soon. It doesn’t matter that we spoke last week. That phone call was only the beginning of the end. I may never get another letter from him again. He’ll rob me of his words. I only have myself to blame.

  Even so, I decide to get the mail, trying not to get my hopes up. He said he had a picture to send. He’s never not followed through. That was me. I couldn’t keep up my end of the deal.

  There’s a large manila envelope stuffed in the mailbox. I pull it out, seeing his return address written across the top left corner. I equally want to tear it open and never open it. I’m too scared to read his words. To read his official goodbye.

  When I walk through the front door, Nana is standing in the entryway, waiting. “Did he write?”

  I nod, but I’m not smiling. After walking in on me after Brett and I got off the phone, I cried and told Nana everything from start to finish. It poured out of me in waves, reminiscing the good and crashing with the inevitable end.

  “Aniołku, don’t think the worst. Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay.” She pulls me into her arms, loosely holding me against her chest with what strength she has, and presses her lips to the top of my head. “That’s a large envelope he sent.”

  “It’s art for me, a picture he drew.”

  She pulls back with a kind, knowing smile. “He’s an artist? No wonder he continued to write you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He must have a sensitive soul. He knows true beauty.”

  I want to cry. “I’m gonna go open it in my room, okay?” I step out of her arms.

  Sitting in the middle of my bed, I pull out a piece of paper and gasp. He drew a faceless dancer, but I know . . . It’s my mom. Her dress is a red and black galaxy speckled in white stars and planets with a black and white cosmos circling her head like a halo. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

  When I reach inside there’s another sketch. It’s another dancer. Her wrists and ankles are attached to strings like a marionette, and she’s wearing a blue tutu that appears to be made out of large forget-me-nots. Whether it was intentional or not, it fits perfectly.

  Brett has so much talent, I never realized. His doodles before were great, but nothing like these.

  Warily, I pull the letter from the envelope. It’s the first time he hasn’t folded the notebook paper into a paper plane . . .

  ***

  My bottom lip quivers. I brush the tips of my fingers below my eyes, wiping away my tears. A little piece of my heart breaks off and falls onto the open letter. I fold it into my own paper plane with Brett’s piece of my heart wrapped safely inside and say goodbye.

  On the top I write, This plane is for the boy I lost . . .

  I have to come to the realization Brett will simply be one of those things I will forever long for, like a dream on the edge of my consciousness that I try, but can never quite grasp, or the mountains and snow when all there is is the ocean.

  I don’t regret sending that first letter because, even though in the end I lost him, he helped me find myself. And that’s something I can never repay him for.

  A THOUSAND MILES FROM NOWHERE

  Brett

  Thursday, July 1

  Ruby,

  I’m doing it! Today I set out with Derek and Mike to hike a partial section of the Appalachian Trail! It was this or sit around all summer feeling sorry for myself and talking myself out of calling or writing you every five minutes. My plan is to hike until August 14th. Mike and Derek will finish the northern trail all the way to Maine by the end of August, but I need to be at school on the 20th. Gram’s orders. She didn’t want me doing this at all, but apparently a sob story about how your paper heart was ripped to shreds will get you things. And believe me, it’s ripped, Ruby. It’s little pieces of confetti strewn about the trail as I go.

  “Dude!” Mike’s shout pulls me from my letter. A protein bar flies at my face and I catch it before my nose does.

  I rip open my dinner and scratch out my words.

  Flipping the page, I write Amber instead.

  FRIDAY, JULY 10TH

  Amber, today is day 10 of our hike. Miss me yet? We hiked 16.6 miles today, for a grand total of 178.1 miles. Only 755.4 left to go.

  I’ve made it to New York. How crazy is that? The trails are filled with thru-hikers. We’ve met some characters. Everyone earns a nickname out here. Thanks to my love of art, I’m called Picasso. Not very original for an artist, but I’ll take it. It’s better than Jetpack and Finder. Today I hugged the largest oak tree on the A.T., it’s 20 feet round and is apparently over 300 years old, saw the coolest train ‘station’ (aka bench) where you can catch a train into NYC, and found a tick on my hand. A storm moved in, but we’re lucky to be hunkered down in the Wiley Station shelter.

  I’m happy to report I haven’t see a single bear. I’ve seen snakes, deer, plenty of bugs, and lizards, but no bears. You owe me $100! Yes, Derek and Mike will vouch for me.

  This trip is exhausting, but I’m so glad I’m doing it. I feel like I’m recapturing part of myself again. The wild boy searching for adventure is back.

  He misses you, though. How are you? Staying out of trouble, I hope?

  THURSDAY, JULY 22

  Captains Log Day 22 (Ha! That’s for you, Dad, and all those Star Treks you made me watch.)

  We’re at a hostel tonight in Vermont. I’m wicked thankful for a soft bed and real shower. Oh, and Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. When in Vermont! We only hiked a little over ten miles today since we had the night set up here. We hitched a ride into town, ate a real meal, and shopped for a few things at a local outfitter store.

  We’ve gone 375 miles so far. 558.5 to go.

  Note to self—My mind is either too occupied or too exhausted to linger on thoughts of Ruby.

  That’s a good thing, right?

  SUNDAY, JULY 25

  Amber, I’m not cursing fate today. I met an engineer, Beau, with Burton! He was doing a week long section hike. Did you know they moved their headquarters to Burlington recently? He was wearing some Burton gear, so I commented on loving their equipment and we struck up a conversation. I’m nearly speechless, Am. The dude works for the #1 snowboard maker in the world, designs them! He checked out my portfolio, thanks to Mike hounding me to show him, and gave me a card.

  Get this, he thinks my art shows “vision” and is “in touch” with their brand.

  I’ll tell you more when I get home. I may die from happiness. Oh, who am I kidding, I may have landed myself an opportunity for my dream job after college. I’m not dying anytime soon!

  P.S. If it hadn’t been for the fallout with Ruby, I wouldn’t have been on this trek, and I wouldn’t have met Beau. Things happen for a reason.

  I STILL DO

  Ruby

  MONDAY, JULY 26

  Dance. Breathe. Dance. Breathe.

  That’s all my body can do. I dance my summer away. Day and night. Through workshops and competitions and performances and lessons. I don’t give myself the opportunity to remember all that was lost. Not my mom or her recovered remains. Not Brett or his meaningful artwork, or the twenty-eight days I’ve spent attempting to reroute the thoughts in my brain so all that fills it are facts. I don’t think about what my heart does every time it sees the paper planes dangling from my ceiling. I only think about the now and where I’m headed. I’m coming for you, Berkeley.

  Janet opens the studio for me so I can have it all to myself in the mornings. I’ve danced in her studio since I was five. It’s nothing fancy. She bought an old, condemned building twenty years ago and turned it into the most sought after dance stud
io in the city.

  Pulling my hair back, I wrap it into a bun. I crank up the volume on the stereo and lose myself. The music pulses throughout the studio, rattling the mirrors, and seeps into my body, luring the dance from my soul. Working my feet and legs and arms until they can no longer move is exactly what I need in order to forget. Every day I dance until I’m so tired and sore I can’t move.

  I can’t breathe.

  It’s exhilarating.

  WEDNESDAY, JULY 28

  “What are you doing?”

  “Watching TV.” Confused, I peer over my shoulder at Dad standing behind the love seat. Isn’t it obvious?

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be packing?”

  “For what?”

  “For New York.”

  “That’s not funny, Dad.” I shift my attention back to Full House and settle back into the cushions. “You know I’m not going.”

  “Is that so? Because I’m almost positive you already have an apartment lined up and the school is expecting you.”

  I mute the TV and drop my feet from the couch to the floor, facing him. “Dad, what did you do?”

  His Dad face is on. The one that is normally followed by, “Because I said so.” “What you should’ve done, Ruby. Nana and I talked about it. We’re not going to let you throw away New York. So, we’ve made arrangements. You move in on August 9th.”

  “Wait. What?” I straighten. He did what? Am I hearing things? Did he say what I think he just said?

  “You heard me. You’re going to New York.”

  I blink rapidly. Oh gosh. I’m dreaming. No. I never fell asleep. Think clearly, Ruby. Take a chill pill. “What about Nana?”

  “What about me?” Nana says from the kitchen table, drinking her herbal tea.

  “Who’s going to take care of you? Who’s going to make sure you’re okay when he’s at work?”

  “She’ll only be alone during the day for a few hours. She has her friends to spend time with her. And when I can’t be home, Cheryl, next door, volunteered to come and check on Nana periodically to see if there’s anything she needs,” Dad explains.

  “But that’s not enough.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she brushes me off. Nana comes to stand beside him. “So I’ve got a little bit of memory loss and the left side of my face doesn’t work. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. Now that I’ve got complete control of the rest of my body, I still don’t know why I can’t be on my own.”

  “Mom, we’re not having this discussion right now.”

  “But who is going to take care of you?” I ask Dad.

  “Ruby, sweetheart, I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself. And Nana will be here to take care of me, too. We’ll take care of each other. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But I will.”

  “Then fine. Worry about me from New York, and I’ll worry about you from California.”

  “Dad . . .”

  “No buts, Roo. It’s already done. There wasn’t any housing close to campus available, but I found you a place in Brooklyn. I’ve put the deposit down on the apartment and made sure the school knows you’re still coming. The scholarship is in place. And I talked to Berkeley and declined your acceptance. Again.”

  He did all of that? I open my mouth to argue more.

  “It’s final. You better go start packing.”

  I can’t move. He’s done all of this behind my back? What if I decided I didn’t want to go to New York? I haven’t, but that’s beside the point. What if his plan for Nana doesn’t work? What if something happens, and I could’ve been here to prevent it?

  “I see those wheels turning, Roo,” he says. “Whatever logic you’re going to try and use against me won’t work because I hold the ace.”

  I glare at him. He is not about to—

  “Your mom would never forgive you.” And, there it is. “You have such a bright future. Years down the road, I guarantee you’ll be grateful for trying, instead of wondering, ‘What if?’ Take the opportunity and run with it. She’ll be behind you the whole way.”

  I spring from the couch and lightly punch him in the chest before latching my arms around his neck. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you for going behind my back, but I’m not about to let NYU down. If they expect me, I have to go.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Oh my gosh, I have to pack!”

  FRIDAY, JULY 30

  Brett,

  Hi. I know it might be strange to hear from me after all this time. I guess it’s only been a month, but it feels like so much longer. Your last letter felt like the best way to end things and say goodbye. I didn’t want to ruin it.

  Your artwork was incredible. The way you depicted my mom...it brought me to tears it was so beautifully perfect. Thank you. I had my dad get them framed so I could hang them on my wall—side-by-side.

  It turns out I’m coming to New York after all. My dad sort of went behind my back and set everything up for me, so I wouldn’t be able to turn it down. He found me a little studio apartment in Brooklyn, apparently it was a steal. I have nine days to pack up my life and get ready to leave. My dad knows me well. He knew I’d want to get a feel for the city for a couple weeks before I’m thrown straight into school mode. I was a little upset with him at first, but the more it sinks in, the more anxious I get to go already. It’s scary, but I’m so ready!

  I don’t expect you to change your plans or anything. You don’t even have to come visit me, though I wouldn’t turn you away if you did. I just wanted you to know. It’s happening. I’m still following my dreams. Thank you for always encouraging me, Brett.

  Love, Ruby

  P.S. My nana is doing better. She’s not back to herself yet, but she’s getting there.

  P.P.S. The first thing I plan on doing is going to the memorial site on Long Island. I think it’s time I say goodbye.

  P.P.P.S. I don’t have anything else to say. It just felt like I should make a P.P.P.S for old time’s sake.

  IN A WEEK OR TWO

  Brett

  SUNDAY, AUGUST 1

  AT Update:

  One full month down. 496.7 miles hiked. Six states visited, one to go. I doubt I’ll make it to Maine before I have to head home for school. Less crossover roads near the border means less traffic to get me to Portland for my flight home. We’ll see.

  Our hike was shortened today so we could spend the night in town and pick up supplies. One of my favorite things about trail life is the people along the way who pick up thru-hikers and give them rides, meals, or drinks. These small town communities along the trail are amazing. I sort of want to live in one someday.

  The trails are rockier in this area. According to some south bounders we met, tomorrow’s hike is brutal. Thank goodness for a soft bed tonight, and a hot shower!

  I close my trail log and stretch. The steep climb up and back down wreaked havoc on my muscles this afternoon. Derek’s already passed out, and Mike’s in the shower, so I pick up the phone and call Amber. The machine picks up.

  “Hey, Am. Sorry I’m missing you. We’re in a small town named, Lincoln, in New Hampshire, for the night. Trying to get some good rest and re-supply. Doing good though, still no bears, and only a few ticks. Update Gram for me, and I’ll call you in four or five days during our next planned trek into a town. Love you, sis.”

  Ahhh, my first real bed in three weeks. I sink in and close my eyes. I see Ruby. Her letters, her smile, her voice. Is her Nana doing okay? I hope so. I wish I knew. I wish I could tell her about this trip. She’d love learning about all the people we’ve met from around the world. Her fact-finding brain would have a field day quizzing them. I smile, my eyes growing too heavy to remain open. I shouldn’t think of her. The clean break was good. She’ll move on, I’ll move on.

  Life will move on . . .

  HELLO CITY

  Ruby

  MONDAY, AUGUST 9

  My new landlord shows me to my apartment and leaves me standing in the middl
e of a stark white, 500-square-foot empty room with nothing but my three suitcases.

  It’s going to be bare for a while, and while it’s small—one sweep of my eyes small—it’s pretty cool. The one exposed brick wall adds a lot of character. Good find, Dad.

  Thank goodness he thought ahead and had a mattress delivered today, so I have something to sleep on tonight. I’ll be living out of my suitcases until I get a dresser, but I have a bed. I eye the place, making a list of needs. Some sort of divider or curtain to block my mattress from the rest of the apartment could be useful. Hmm . . . Dad also said he’d send the boxes of my books this week, I’ll have to figure out what to do with myself before then. Tomorrow I’ll go out and buy a futon, TV, and VCR.

  So they know I’m safe, I call home. The answering machine picks up. “Hi! It’s me. I’m calling to let you know I made it to New York safely. The apartment is perfect. Thanks, Dad. I’ll call again later. Love you guys!”

  I hang up the phone and get to unpacking the kitchen supplies Dad and Nana equipped me with.

  Home, sweet home.

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 12

  I researched everything I could about the transportation system before coming to New York. The subway routes and station stops, how the trains work, and cabs. How much I’m supposed to tip. I’ve never taken a cab before. Specifically, I wanted to know the best form of transportation to get to the memorial site in Long Island, so I can go all the time. Even though Mom isn’t there, it’s the closest I’ll get to her.