Love Letter

Ian:

I would have to say the second date with Lynne was more fun than the first one we had together. Not as romantic, but it was more thrilling. It was more exciting since I could actually mess around with her sledding instead of being too scared to skate by her side. I enjoyed watching her skate; she looked free with no worries while she skated. I was amazed by how long we all had stayed in the cold. Kelly, who started out mad, was having fun by the end of it and was the one who started the snowball fight girls against guys. We walked into the kitchen a few hours later, dragging snow throughout the house. There was a pile of snowsuits left stewed about, and I felt bad for the extra work Francine would have to do tomorrow. Why the others changed and took some showers, I started to sort through the mess.

"Ian, you do not have to do that," Francine says, watching me make a failed attempt at making the mess better.

"Oh, I insist it was my idea for the sledding," I say to her.

"You did enough already. Please go sit down. I will bring out some hot chocolate and the pies we made earlier," she says, smiling at me.

Lynne comes down a few minutes later with her hair pulled into a high bun with it still wet from the snow that had got in under her hat from Fred, who came running by pulling her hat off and setting snow down on her head. She had a fuzzy sweat pants suit on and black-rimmed glasses. I had to admit I really liked her in glasses; she looked comfortable. She grabs my hand and leads me upstairs. I sit in the desk chair, too, afraid of what I would do if we were both on the bed together. She drags her hand across the books on her shelf, and I can tell she is looking for something specific. She grabs a thin book that looks like a magazine off the bottom shelf in the corner. "Here it is," she says, walking over to me. When she opens it and starts scanning the pages, I can see that it is a high school yearbook.

She hands the book to me, pointing at a picture of a girl that I know is Lynne. The girl I see on the page is three times the size of Lynne with a short haircut and black rim glasses on. Lynne doesn't say anything; she sits on her bed, picking at the bedspread again. The picture gives me much more insight into what high school must have been like. The insecurities and confidence that she lacked are coming to a full circle. All I want to do is hug the woman sitting on the bed, anxiously waiting for my response. "So this was you?" I say, getting up and sitting next to her on the bed. The best part was the quote underneath: Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. – William Shakespeare

I speak before Lynne can quote Shakespeare myself "It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves." She looks up and looks into my eyes. I shrug. "I had a Shakespeare period in my life as well. My mom told my dad it was normal for a boy to quote an old dead man, but he never understood. I had two friends in high school. My sister and writing," I say, taking her hand in mine.

She laughs a sad laugh, and I want to know what she is thinking; she says, "A heart to love, and in that heart, Courage, to make's love known," she quotes Macbeth. I am trying to figure out if this is for me or just quoting quotes. "That was the quote I was going to put in there... It was for Luke, a school friend – you met him, I believe. Anyways I had actually written that quote down because we had a class together at the community college together. That was the class I fell in love with Shakespeare quotes; it was also when I found out that the Macbeth quote was one of Luke's favorite quotes. So I had the bright idea of putting it in the yearbook to let him know how I truly felt. A day after I wrote the quote down and handed it in, a girl named Clarissa and him started dating. Of course, I felt embarrassed and had no clue how Fred got the head of the yearbook to let me switch my quote. Fred is the only other person who knows about this stupid, embarrassing story. I mean, it was simple Clarissa was this beautiful long-legged blonde that never noticed Luke until our senior year. It was humiliating to think that he could ever like me."

So that was how she and Luke were connected, but why was she still friends with him. "He would have been crazy not to like you back then. How are you guys still friends?" I ask.

"A year after high school, he contacted me out of the blue, and then we started corresponding over Facebook again. He has come and visited me in New York. But if you are wondering, I never told him how I felt. I think it was more this illusion I gave myself to help me get through high school." At least she was not proclaiming that she was still in love with Luke; if anything, it sounded like Luke was the high school crush that realized too late in life that he had lost what was right in front of him the whole time. "So that was me in high school; I am pretty sure it cannot get much worse," she says, shutting the yearbook while I think it could be a lot worse.

I grab her chin softly, tilting it up, and kiss her gently on her lips, pulling away a few seconds later and holding her hand to bring her downstairs. I can tell by her face that she enjoyed the kiss as much as I had. The rest of the night, while we watch Hallmark Christmas movies, Lynne sits snuggled up in my arms, and I am content with the life I have. Not wanting anything to change. It is past midnight when Amanda and Kevin tell me we should head back. Lynne, who fell asleep half an hour into watching the movie, leaned against my shoulder. I take her phone, snapping a picture of me kissing the top of her forehead and save it as her background picture. I added my number to her phone, so I could send her a message:

"Though she be but little, she is fierce!" – WS

Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner? – I'm available. – Ian.

I lye her out on the couch and put a blanket on top of her. I kiss her forehead before I leave to go home.

I am to wire to sleep when I get home – typing is all I can focus on.