letters i never sent; wyatt oleff

sept

Dear Wyatt,

Today my mom came into my room telling me to congratulate you on the production of IT. I haven't told her about us yet. She already has enough to worry about as it is. A couple of days after you cut the ties on our friendship, my mom was diagnosed with leukemia. We haven't told Molly yet. Dad thinks her happy, bubbly personality would be too greatly affected. He wants her to stay happy. He cherishes her more than ever. She's his little ray of sunshine, and he'll do anything to hold onto her.

 They started chemotherapy my mom right away. She's been in and out of the hospital for weeks and now she's barely around the house. It's affected my dad the most. I'm the runner up, and closing in on him. As of yesterday, we're tied. Last night I woke up covered in sweat. I had been dreaming of burying my mom, tears constantly streaming down my face. I wanted to call you so bad. I wanted you to burst through the door and embrace me in one of your hugs. I wanted you to run your fingers through my hair and whisper in my ear and lie to me and tell me everything's going to be okay. I was so close to actually dialing your number. But I never did. Because I knew you'd never answer.

- Marisol Miller