Lilah Tov (NaNoWriMo)

seventeen

Don't be mad at me for this chapter. There will be an epilogue, so don't worry. To the side is a gif of Will (aka Cody Christian). Last night I posted a short story about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict called "Teal." If you'd like to contribute to the dialogue or just read the story, then I'd suggest checking it out (in the external link/on my profile). Okay. I like this chapter a lot, even though it's, well, you'll see...

seventeen

Slowly, my eyes flickered open with nothing except my eyelids to use as defense against the light. I immediately looked over to the clock, thrilled as heck that I had been able to sleep past nine. That wasn’t a normal occurrence in a house with Hillary Brooks, scheduler extraordinaire. But today was a blissful Thursday, which meant that Hillary had gone in early for acupuncture, and she was too busy being stressed about being stressed to worry about waking up her second favorite son. But now he was up, and it was turning out to be a good day.

           From what I could tell just laying in my bed, it wasn’t an overcast day, and the sun wasn’t so bright that it would blind anyone who dared to leave the house without sunglasses. This whole week had been pretty good, actually. Charlie came home from U Penn, more energized about college (girls) than ever before, and we were actually getting along pretty well. Lilah and I had hung out every single day and kissed basically whenever one of us felt the sudden whim to do so. In fact, summer was going just swimmingly thus far, and had been far more fun than most of the summers preceding it. I had to attribute that to a certain Lilah Tov, who had definitely crashed my summer for the better.

           I got out of bed and was about to begin my daily hunt for an acceptable shirt, when I noticed a blue envelope resting neatly by the foot of my bed. “WILL” was scrolled across the front in big loopy letters. Hesitantly with a dash of curiosity, I picked up the envelope and tore open the top. Within lay a piece of paper. I took the paper out and then unfolded it so that there were two visible creases in the paper where the sender had folded it into thirds. Then I made the biggest mistake of all and actually read the letter:

“Dear William Henry Brooks, III (I think there are three I’s, right?),

           “I’m sure you’re wondering what this letter is and who sent it and why the sender didn’t just send a text, because letter writing is an ancient art form, practically extinct like the dinosaurs. Well, this letter is from Lilah. Lilah Tov, in case you know any other Lilahs who would sneak into your room at 2:46 AM (give or take a few minutes), because the U.S. Postal Service is super slow, and hand delivery is so much more heartfelt, don’t you think? Anyway, I, Lilah Tov, am the writer of this letter, so that mystery has been solved. I bet Scooby and Shaggy would’ve taken the whole episode to figure that one out. And I digress…

           “Now, the reason I didn’t send you a text wasn’t because I didn’t have your number (I’ll get to that later), but because I’ve always felt that hardcopies rather than the electronic equivalents are so much more appropriate for most situations. The nature of this letter isn’t the type of thing one could simply type into a phone and then willingly press, ‘SEND.’ What I want to say is more fitting handwritten. Oh, and let me apologize about my handwriting. I know it’s terribly sloppy, and as you continue reading this, it will grow even sloppier, so if you have any questions, do feel free to call and ask.

           “Well, Will, I suppose it’s about time in this letter to explain why I’m writing a letter to you instead of texting you or telling you straight to your face (I DON’T email). Well, late last night I got a call from my mom. Some family stuff came up, and she said that it would be for the best if I returned home instead of wasting the rest of my summer away in the middle of some nowhere town. That’s a direct quote from my mother, by the way. In any case, after receiving a text from a good friend of mine pertaining to her no longer existent relationship status to her (ex) boyfriend of eight months, I realized that it was about time that I face reality. So far, this summer has been a marvelous excuse for me to forget about everything in my real life—in part because of you, Will—but that’s just what it is: an excuse.