46 Days Before the First Letter

I woke up without the thrill of life.

My day was one of those happy introvert days where I ritually ate a pound of breakfast and slouched onto the couch watching "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Sponge bob square pants."

Yay.

I wanted to see Casper again. I couldn't get him out of my head and the more I realised this, the more annoyed I became. I kept telling myself this is what friendship possibly feels like. It felt alien to me because I didn't have friends.

Yeah, that's all it is.

This made me sadder. I always knew I sucked at making friends and now I knew I sucked just as much at keeping them. Everything felt so... difficult.

This reminded me of the many times people approached me with the intent of friendship... and how every time my throat would tie into a knot. If I ever did manage to speak, the sentences spoken were short and awkward. And if ever by some mighty stroke of luck I managed to say something normal, the next meeting would never go the same way.

Dread filled my heart as I cuddled my kitty.

I recalled Ariana from preschool in her pink floral dress who wanted to share her dolls with me. I remember Isaac from 5th grade who wanted to do art with me. I remember Sean from sophomore year who wanted to work with me on the science project. And there was Sheila, and Rose and Harry too.

I guessed Casper would be another name on the list of people I didn't make an effort with.

As I lay contemplating anxiously, filling my ears with the background noise of the show I was watching, my mind kept drifting back to Casper. I shook away the thought of him or at least tried to.

I watched TV, ate, napped and did it all over again, stuck in a less eventful version of the Groundhog day.

The clock slowly but surely struck 1800 hours.

I stood at the balcony, watching the sunset. I thought of the possibility that maybe he was watching the sunset too. Yuck. This was weird. Jasmine McRae was most certainly NOT wasting her time thinking about some stupid boy. If he wanted to be my friend, he would come to meet me!

And I said he had an ego?

The clock struck 7 pm, then 8 and then 9.

Only three hours remained for this tragic day to end. By this time, I was sure I wouldn't see Casper again. By this time, I was a sad piece of rag.

So this is what it feels like to be lonely?

I thought to myself for the first time In my almost eighteen years of life.

I was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. My heart jolted and I ran to the door. Flash at this point, was no match to me.

I opened the door to the much anticipated, Casper Anderson. I kept my cool but that probably made me look goofy. He rose an eyebrow to my awkwardness.

"Let's sit outside."

We walked to the Adirondack swings.

The solar-powered lanterns glowed a dim yellow beside the swings. The trill of crickets filled the otherwise silent air. I grasped onto the hem of my dress. What in the world was I supposed to say?

"I thought you'd come over. I was waiting," he whispered.

My eyes widened at that but I bit my lips back to keep my cool.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you straight up." He leaned back facing me, fixing his grey eyes onto mine. "Did you like spending time with me or was I purely a nuisance?"

I opened my mouth and closed it shut again. He waited stubbornly for my answer.

"I did want to come over but then... I didn't."

"Why?"

"I thought it would be awkward... Or desperate. I don't know the rules of this game. Socialisation is hectic," I whimpered.

"But you wanted to come over?"

I nodded a yes.

"Why?... go on. Say it," he prompted me.

"I... Liked hanging out with you," I whispered.

"Who doesn't?" he smirked.

"Jerk," I mumbled, making sure he didn't hear.

"Look, we're friends now so come over anytime you like. Don't think twice. I don't mind at all. Maybe you're not comfortable around me..."

But I was.

"..... but that's okay. You'll get used to me once we spend more time together. That's how friendship works. A little advice, don't hold yourself back. Be spontaneous. It's the thrill of life."

I stared at him the whole time. I usually hate eye contact with people because it intimidates me, but with Casper it was different. I don't know how to explain it. He seemed sincere...

I nodded to everything he said. "So can we hang out tonight?" I suddenly blurted.

He smiled a wide smile.

"God, that was fast. I didn't know I had the power to motivate people so quickly." He laughed.

"You don't know. Maybe I'm planning on killing you tonight."

"Not if I kill you first, darling. "

He led me into the night. Undoubtedly, Casper knew this place like the back of his hand.

My heart was scared but excited... I didn't know how to describe this feeling.

"So, we're going to watch a movie again?" I asked, stumbling on something.

He held onto my arm to steady me.

"We've already done that. I have a better plan in mind."

The next thing I know, we were up in the treehouse. Surprisingly, one of the cabin walls turned out to be a sliding door. There was a thin mattress spread on the floor with a single pillow and blanket. Candescent lamps dimly lit the whole cabin and Linkin Park's 'Iridescent' was playing softly on Casper's iPod. A box of pizza and a Matthew Rielly book sat beside the mattress. Empty beer bottles were lined up beside the wall. On the other side of the mattress were a pair of reading glasses and a closed cooler box.

"You had this planned for today?" I asked naively.

"Well yes. I don't mind sharing."

"Thanks." I smiled awkwardly, flopping onto the mattress. I saw the pair of reading glasses again.

"You wear glasses?"

"Yes, Sherlock," he scoffed.

"But you didn't have them on when you were in my room, supposedly reading Winter's End." I squinted at him accusingly.

"Fine, you caught me. I already read the book a week ago."

"Ha! I knew it. No one reads books faster than me. And I mean NO ONE."

"Calm your tits, flash reader."

He rolled his eyes at me.

Tits

I hugged the pillow, staring at the night sky as Casper tossed a can of beer to me.

"You do drink, right?" He asked.

"I guess there's a first time for everything."

He smiled.

We drank beer and the night grew colder. Although it tasted good, I took small sips to savour the flavour. I barely reached half my bottle and Casper was already on his third. We both kept quiet before he shifted beside me and we sat facing each other.

"I have a confession," he said plainly.

I placed my can aside feeling my heart race again. I wasn't very drunk and well, he wasn't very sober.

"Go on."

"The first time I saw you wasn't two days ago," he whispered.

"It wasn't? "

"Yeah."

"Okay." I sat staring at him blankly.

"You won't ask when the first time was?" He questioned me.

"When?"

"I don't remember precisely... but I was nine years old... and that was the first time I came to Derek Woods. My mom brought me here..." he paused and then whispered, "My mom....." His face turned sorrowful. I could see he was lost in distant thoughts. He lowered his head and his lips curved into a slight smile. A sad smile.

"My father called my mom that day," he continued saying. "She was crying again. I... I broke one of her vases because it made me angry... to see her like that. I remember running through the woods when I came near this house. I snuck behind a tree and... I saw a little girl. She was sitting on the balcony and crying her eyes off."

My eyes widened at that. The balcony was my crying spot and no one else knew that. Granny being the exception.

"She was crying and I was crying but I stopped and well, she was still crying. She went on and on. She was crying for ages. God, what a drama queen! The scene was a little funny because she was overdoing it. Later on, my mom found me and pacified me. I showed her the crying girl and she smiled at her. Then my mom took me back home and I remember turning around to see that little girl. No one came for her. She was crying when I got there and she was crying when I left."

I felt a knot in my stomach and my eyes teared up but I held back from crying. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"I couldn't come back the year after because...." he cut his sentence off and sighed, clenching his teeth. "I came back when I was 11. I went back to that spot but she wasn't there anymore. There was a different girl, Kiara, and we ended up being friends. I later got to know that... the crying girl was Kiara's younger cousin. I'm not a stalker. It's just that she talked so much about you and her room was stuffed with photographs of you both."

I was shocked. "So you already knew me?"

"Hold your horses. There's more..."

By this time I was wondering if he really was drunk or was just playing around. But I couldn't doubt how genuine he sounded. He wasn't completely sober.

"So two days ago... I was jogging down to Kiara's place... when..." He smiled. Not a fake smile, but a real, happy one. "...when I saw her. She was standing on the balcony...and crying. After so many years, she was still overdoing it." He laughed.

...And I laughed a little too.

"I just had to talk to her. So... I climbed into her room and you know the rest, you were there."

By the time he finished, I was speechless. Heat rushed to my cheeks and I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. Crap. This had to be unreal. Then it hit me. I could ask him anything right now... but would he answer?

There was only one way to find out.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Me first," he interjected.

"Okay..."

"Why were you crying?" He shifted closer.

"When? The first time you saw me or two days ago?"

"Both."

"Well..." I lay down on the mattress when he slowly pulled my head over his lap. We looked at each other directly as I spoke and he slowly ran his fingers through my hair. "I was seven when you were nine. I've cried a lot on that balcony but the reason never quite changed. I wasn't faking it or overdoing it okay. That's just my way of crying. What happened was... I was staying with my Grandma back then and Kiara came over with her parents. They brought me presents from their family trip. So I was sitting there and Kiara was telling me about her new friends at school and details of the trip and about all the things her parents did for her. She didn't even have to say it. It was obvious how much they adored her. She was going on and on and I just couldn't take it anymore. So I ran up to my room and locked myself in. I wasn't crying because I envied her, no. It wasn't about her, it was about me, how I had no one. I didn't have caring parents or just parents for a matter of fact. I didn't have friends at school, either. My brother lived away then. I did have Granny and I loved her so much but I hated feeling that way."

He held my hand in his.

"I'm glad my parents aren't around though." I continued. "I'm better without them because they weren't caring at all you know. They used to bash my brother. But I've always cried about how I didn't have good parents. I've always been scared of losing the people I love so I never made any friends. A few initiated friendship but I just didn't feel comfortable around them. They barely tried to get to know me and I didn't bother..."

A tear trickled from the corner of my eye and he ran his thumb over it. He cupped my face with his hands. I had never cried in front of anyone before so this was a first yet again.

"That being that. Two days ago," I sobbed softly. "I was crying because... I saw my Granny's flowerpots and just standing in that house reminded me so much of her. I couldn't help myself. Whenever things got a little too much to hold in, I always talked to her. Maybe my problems didn't make sense to her but she listened. She tried to understand me."

I paused before adding, "She passed away two years ago. My whole world shattered that day."

I burst into tears, closing my eyes shut. He wiped them all away without saying a word. He rested a pillow under my head and pulled the sheets over me. Then he lay down beside me and curved his strong arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. He held me tightly while I cried.

"Shh," he whispered into my hair.

There was something about him and the way he held me. It made my heart feel warm. It didn't feel uncomfortable or awkward. I had never felt this way with anyone before.

His presence comforted me in ways words could never console.