letters to fay // z.m.

10

dear fay,

i thought we knew each other, and i think we did, but at the same time--there are so many things i still don't know about you.

i got a job at that little ice cream shop i wrote about earlier. the woman who owns it also works as a waitress there. i had started to come there for dinner every day, when she offered me the job.

starting tomorrow, i'll get paid every friday. i already have around 500 dollars saved from my last job, and i figure i'll get a couple hundred more before i go after you.

i still haven't opened that letter addressed to you. i don't know if i want to, but i know i will have to soon. it probably has some sort of information on where you are. maybe. maybe not. should i prepare for disappointment?

i was thinking about how i never found out what your favourite song was. we listened to so many songs together. why didn't i ask you about your favourite song, fay?

was it by twenty one pilots? sleeping with sirens? the 1975? vampire weekend? fay, there are so many things i want to know.

sometimes, i play out how the scene would go in my head.

it would go something like this:

i'd ask you if you liked strawberries or cherries better, and you'd bite your lip. you'd shrug and say, "i don't know, actually."

or maybe you'd say, "strawberries, definitely." or maybe you'd say, "i hate strawberries!" or, "i love them both!"

will i ever know? at least i know some things.

i remember asking you about your favourite book.

you had replied, "well, the fault in our stars is of course one of them...i'd also say the maze runner series."

i had never read either,which left you shocked. i mentally noted the titles and went to the public library the next day.

the next time i saw you, three days later, i had finished the maze runner series...and just finished the fault in our stars the night before. my eyes were swollen up a bit from crying before bed.

"why is that your favourite book?!" i near-shouted at you that day.

"yeah, the end is a little harsh, isn't it?" you laughed softly, then looked me directly in the eyes. "it's not about how upsetting the end is. it's about the little moments that you felt in your heart and your soul as you escaped into the novel. it's about falling in love with a character, and feeling like you're there. it's not about the ending."

fay, i have analyzed this answer of yours and come to the conclusion that you're wrong. at least when it comes to real life, anyway.

i keep thinking about when i met you. i have had so many little moments with you, where i felt it in my heart and soul. i escaped from the world just by talking to you. i fell in love with you. all of that is true.

but right now, as i'm sitting alone behind a countertop and you are no longer in my life, i can't help but feel like it is about how upsetting the ending is.

why did we have to have an ending, fay?

-z