Carter
There's a letter sitting for me on Boone's table when I let myself into his apartment. Since Boone cooks a lot for me, I want to return the favor. I plan on having a delicious dinner on the table by the time he gets home from work, thanks to a recipe Kara lent me. If I don't burn it, that is.
Hey, beautiful.
Sorry again I can't help out. I'll tell Mrs. Kripke to avoid flooding her basement on our date night. Just know I'm wishing I was there with you, and I'll back by seven. (If not, send out a search party because Mrs. Kripke has a thing for my ass and I do not trust her—eighty years old or not, she might steal me and never give me back. Be a damn shame, wouldn't it?)
I love you,
Boone
I fold his letter and neatly put it inside my pocket. When I get home, I'll put it with all the others.
Mrs. Kripke made an emergency call this afternoon. Boone had to take it since Jason was working on something else. I was kind of hoping he'd be here to chaperone me, seeing as the last time I tried to cook, there was a small fire.
I try to get acquainted with Boone's kitchen, only to realize that he's got a lot more cooking utensils than I would've guessed. I should've known better after learning he's Jesus in the kitchen.
Later, as I'm putting the ricotta-cheese stuffed shells into the oven, I take a quick picture of it. I send it to Boone and text, This is what you have to look forward to so fight for your life if she offers you candy or asks you to find her puppy. I also text Kara the picture along with, What do you think?
Little dots immediately pop up on my screen, then the next thing I know, she's calling me.
"I'm proud of you," she says. "It looks so good. You're feeding Gabe and I, too, right?"
I snort. "If you think a double date is safe, sure."
She giggles. "Not a good idea. But they're getting better. I think Gabe's actually starting to hate Boone a little less."
"That's a big step in the right direction," I say. I walk over to the oven and preheat it. The one thing I forgot, of course. I lean on the cabinet. "Maybe someday he might sort-of, kind-of, maybe-less-than like him."
Her laughter is muffled on the other side of the phone. We've been talking more and more about Boone and what he means to me—that I love him. We've been trying to get Gabe used to the idea, but he's not close to being on board yet.
As embarrassing as it is, they know I lost my virginity to Boone the day Declan died. Kara and Gabe scheduled family meetings with a counselor and when she asked about Boone, the truth came rushing to the surface. I didn’t know how I was going to recover from Declan’s death and Boone’s betrayal. I don't believe Gabe was ever mad at Boone because of the sex, no matter how disappointed he probably was; I think the sole reason he's hated Boone is because I've hated him. I blamed Boone for Declan's death, so Gabe did also. Except Gabe's been blaming him with the fury of a father-figure.
"When are you expecting him home?" Kara asks.
"Not until later. I wanted to give this time to cook so I can make up crescent rolls, but now I'm thinking I gave myself too much time."
"You're just excited to do this for him."
"I am," I admit. "It's stupid because it's just a meal, but …"
Kara makes a sound as if she were agreeing with me. "I remember how nervous I was to cook for you for the first time. It was right after I bought the house and I'd never made a meal on my own before. It was terrible, but you grinned through it."
"It was good."
"Don't flatter me."
"It was first the meal I'd had that didn't come out of a box."
"That's true. What I'm trying to say is—it's your first step toward a life together. It's domesticity. It's exciting and nerve-wrecking."
We continue talking until I hear Gabe's voice in the background, signaling he's home from work. I tell them both I love them and let them go enjoy their evening together.
I busy myself by putting the shells in the oven and readying the rolls to go in next, then I just stare at the floor. What am I supposed to do now? Boone has a TV set up, but I don't really want to watch it—that'll put me to sleep for sure. He has a lot of books, but I'm also too keyed up to sit down and read.
The letters.
I grin as I think about Boone telling me he kept the notes he wrote but never sent. We haven't gotten around to reading them yet. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I read them now, considering I've read all the other ones without him.
I check the places where I would expect him to store things—in his closet, under his bed, by his desk—but I don't find anything. Well, other than that, Boone has developed definite qualities of a neat freak. Everything is very minimalistic and bare, only the in-use items out now that his place is finished.
Where did we always hide the important things—social security cards, birth certificates? Tish always left them lying around to get muddied by the dust and general grossness of our trailer, but then Boone gathered everything up to store it in the freezer as a result of my trip to the hospital after the fair.
"You put all of the important things in here to keep them safe," he'd said as he reached down to tickle my cheek. "Think I should put you in there?"
The memory makes me smile. I walk over to his freezer and move his frozen meats and vegetables around until I see a brown box. I lift it out, passing it between my hands because it's cold. I set it on the table and pull the lid-flaps open.
Sure enough, the letters are neatly stacked inside. I lift them out, set the stack in front of me on the counter, and read each one carefully. The first ones are more recent so they mostly talk about how he wants to get back into my life. The farther into the stack I get, the less he talks about winning me back and the more he apologizes for what happened between us. Almost every letter has a, “I love you,” that effectively makes my heart a professional gymnast. If I had read these sooner, would we have been together sooner?
I keep going until I get to the bottom one. There’s nothing on the page except for my name then, I’d trade places with him in an instant if it made you happy. I didn’t know about him being in there, because if I had, I would’ve died rather than let you go in.
My heart starts to hurt, and my eyes well up with tears. I shouldn't have ever thought he could know Declan was dead and not tell me. Boone's always been the most honest person I know, and he wouldn't lie to me about this.
I was so stupid.
I shake my head as I set the letter back. Things between us were all twisted and wrong, when they shouldn't have been. It's a combination of both our faults, but our last fight was all on me.
Another note catches my eye, tucked and forgotten at the base of the box, just barely visible beneath one of the taped flaps. I give it a hearty tug because it's wedged.
That last one should've been the very beginning. Is this one from earlier? What would he have had to say then? I flip the box over and tear the tape off to get it out. The wrinkled paper is a mess of words. He always puts time and effort into it, but this one looks more as though it was all racing out of him.
Carter,
You deserve to hear this in person and you deserve to hear it from Declan. The only reason why I know anything is because he wanted me to take care of you. Guess he doesn't know that taking care of you means telling the truth.
I'm a coward for not being able to tell this to your face. I just don't want to break my word to Declan and I don't want to break your heart. I keep trying to tell you, but nothing will come out. Never thought there would be a day when I'd be speechless, but I am. Writing stuff down has always been easier, especially when it comes to my feelings and you.
Declan—he's dying. Hepatitis and liver failure. Worse, he wants to die. He's going to take it into his own hands—his overdose was on purpose. He told me afterward. Made me promise not to say anything. I just don't think I can keep something like this from you. You need to know—you should have whatever time you can with him.
I can't give you much, but I can give you that. I love you more, so I'm choosing you. Maybe I'm choosing him, too. Maybe this is best for everyone.
Just don't blame him. Don't try to talk him into things. Don't try to make him better. Show him you needed to know and how you finding out was worth it. Show him life is worth living.
Boone