Dear Jon (3 page)

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.

In bed together, it was an urgent whisper said with little breath. It was like an echo of my own voice every time, because she would repeat it anytime I said it to her. Was it out of obligation? Did she ever really feel it?

Does she really feel it now?

I made a mistake.

Finally.

When I look back now, I laugh.

Once again, I want to crumple up the letter and get it far, far away from me, but I keep reading, wondering how she can make what happened humorous.

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to tell my parents about our discussion about sex after that first date. It was such an important fact I’d learned, and I was never one to keep things from my parents. As a good kid, I told them everything.

Upon seeing your reaction when you found out I’d told them, I realized I was venturing into a territory where I was no longer a kid. It was the first time I realized there was such a thing as a ‘private life,’ and you and I were about to embark on having one.

You asked me to keep our conversations between us, and it was in that moment that I chose to be loyal to you over my mother and father. No one had ever ranked higher than Mom and Dad, but you surpassed them that night. The power very often wavered between you, my mom and my dad, but when the matter was truly private, I kept those things between us, just like you’d asked. I know we didn’t always agree on what should be kept private, but know that my heart was always in the right place.

I’ve kept one secret from you. I never thought it was important, but I realize if I ever hope to be with you again, it needs to come out.

I can see Finn’s name without even reading on. I’m not sure I want to know whatever she’s about to say. My eyes begin to water in anticipation.

Over Spring Break, Finn kissed me one time. I told you he’d tried. I didn’t tell you he’d actually succeeded. The kiss we shared in Wyoming meant nothing to me. I felt nothing, and I told him so. It wasn’t something that stuck with him, either. Telling you the half-truth seemed good enough at the time. I knew if you had all the information, you might hate Finn, and he’s a permanent fixture in our family, so that wouldn’t have worked.

And right there, she didn’t just put her parents above me, she did that with this guy that she considered family. And
kissed
. The tabloid sites loved exploiting that relationship. I’d had to avoid the internet for a few days after her graduation just so I wouldn’t be confronted with it.

How you feel about Finn doesn’t matter to me anymore. I can handle the awkwardness of every future Spring Break, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas as long as I know you’re there, too.

He’s my friend, though, and I have to be honest. I want to have him in my life as my friend.

That can’t be a secret that I keep from you, either.

Who does she think she is, making conditions and telling me her non-negotiable terms?
Here’s mine, Liv! I don’t want him in my life.

I don’t want you, either.

Thinking that I don’t want her makes my watery eyes unleash the tears they’d been holding back.
I don’t want you, either.

Would I ever have the strength to tell her that to her face?

We aren’t finished.

Yes, we are.

In pale green, she adds her non-standard sign-off. I almost didn’t notice it at all, it blended in so well with the paper.

Secrets

Hearing the doorbell ring, I tuck the note in my pocket and stand up quickly, composing myself. I clear the lump from my throat. I check my face in the TV’s reflection, wiping away all evidence of my sadness. I wear a smile that hides the ruins of my heart and the crushing blow to my soul.

I keep my own secrets.

As I walk to the door with my wallet in hand, I realize that I’m not just hiding things from my family. My non-response to her letters keeps all my feelings from her a secret. That’s its own sort of punishment.

As cruel as it is, she deserves it.

Enlightenment

This time, the word is etched in dark purple paint and is the first thing that grabs my attention when I pull the letter out of the envelope. The word is so clear, so prominent. Why does it have to be so
vague
? I can’t discern what the letter’s going to be about from that.

I scan the letter quickly.
Intimate. Kiss.
Reading about either of those things makes me want her more. I’m trying to want her
less
. Why does she keep sending these?

I love you, Jon.

I love how you open my eyes to new things. Not many guys really care about their girlfriends’ educations. Not like you do, anyway. Even though our study time wasn’t always used for studying schoolwork, you made sure I had learned something in each session. I know that ignorance is something you won’t tolerate, and I love that about you. I love how you always want to learn more. I love that you always want to share what you learn with me.

Not anymore, Liv.

You never just taught me what I needed to know, either. You went deeper into my lessons. You taught me how to learn better and how to think about things more thoroughly. Although I appreciate the emphasis you put on scholarly pursuits, I am personally more grateful for the patience you exhibited while I learned things of a more intimate nature.

I loved teaching her those things, too. I never had to tell her much. I could correct the mistakes that came from her inexperience simply by showing her in another moment. I never wanted to discourage her or embarrass her by pointing out what she was doing wrong– and it was never
wrong
when she touched me or kissed me. It was never wrong, by any means. I just knew some things were more pleasurable done differently.

When she first kissed my ear, she was clearly holding back. Her lips captured my lobe for a fraction of a second. It was sweet, but I knew it could be much more sensual. When I had the chance, I reminded her of how it should be done, moistening her lobe with my tongue and scraping it gently with my teeth, barely tugging before I let go. It drove her crazy. When she finally did it to me, I’d wished that I could show her more, kiss her other places. I’d wished
she
would kiss other places.

With patience, she eventually would, and with one of those places, I couldn’t adequately show her in a reciprocal way. While her body felt familiar and beautiful to me, mine was foreign and awkward to her. Any man’s would have been. At first, I had to direct her, to tell her what felt good when she did it. I had to pull her lips to mine when something
didn’t
feel right, subtly correcting her without disturbing the intimacy. There was no way in hell I would do anything to make that experience unpleasant for her. Some men lived with wives who refused this act of pleasure, and after that first time, I couldn’t imagine not being granted that indulgence from time to time.

Without spending the last year and a half with you, I wouldn’t know how to show you I love you without having to say the words. Those were my favorite ways to tell you how I felt about you. If you were here–if you would see me–I would grasp your hand in mine. I would hold it tightly. I would hold you close to me while the fingers from my other hand caressed your smooth hair, massaged your scalp, rubbed your neck and pulled your lips to mine. I’d kiss you slowly. I’d kiss you hard. I’d kiss you however you wanted me to. I’d ask to learn more from you. You’re the only teacher I want.

And I still had things to teach her. I still had things to learn
myself
. I’d always envisioned fumbling through them together. Such things, one only tries with people they fully trust and are okay to be completely vulnerable with. We were
there
. We were
that
. And now? How could I ever trust her again?

I know that what you taught me would only apply to you. You didn’t teach me how to show someone else I love them. You taught me how to express my love to you alone. I want you to be the only person who benefits from what I now know.

My heart makes itself known, beating faster at her last statement. If I read between the lines, it’s safe to assume she’d gone no further with Finn. But she’d already gone far enough, and in that, didn’t he
already
benefit from what I’d taught her? She’d practiced on me to be the extraordinary kisser she’d become. She perfected the art in moments we’d shared–tender ones, loving ones, all-consuming ones that left our lips swollen and raw. It was always gratifying for me to send her back home with marks of our passion evident on her face.

I smile now, remembering how pretty she was with her lips naturally red and plump. They suited her face; offset her big, brown eyes.

Damn it, Livvy, why did you have to ruin everything we had?

We aren’t finished.

Enlightenment

I’d love to enlighten her now; to teach her now.
Hey, Livvy, you can’t kiss another guy and expect your boyfriend to look the other way. Maybe our lessons should have started with that.

I just thought she had more common sense than that.

With memories flooding my mind of all the ways she had ever shown me her love, I decide to go to bed. I don’t think I can be productive doing anything else this evening.

I can count on one hand the number of days she’d let me show her all of my love. It’s surprising to me we’d only made love on five separate occasions. Our closeness made it seem like many, many more. She’d taken my heart at some point early on, and I let her have it for safe keeping. I held on to hers. We were entwined by that. It felt like we were one entity operating as two bodies, but we were always working toward one goal. We wanted to be together. It’s safe to say we wanted to be together forever. I believed we had already started our forever. I never prepared myself for what she’s done to me. I never prepared for her to take my forever. She’s left me with never. She’s left me with nothing. She won’t even give me back my heart.