I looked down at the ground as I walked home from the bus stop. Carefully trying to avoid stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk, I increased my speed to get out of the cold weather. Colourful leaves were sprinkled amongst the slabs of concrete, creating intricate tattoos on its hard skin. The light hues of the sky played disguise to the dark atmosphere of this place. A light breeze pushed the fallen leaves slightly and ripped through my parka jacket. I gently moved a loose strand of hair out of my face, and tucked it behind my ear. I turned the corner into my driveway and breathed heavily from my lack of athleticism and wintery climate. I absentmindedly searched for my keys in my purse as I approached the front door.
A small yellow package leaning up against my doorway caught my attention. I stood there for a moment while I pondered who could have sent me something; my father never sent me anything other than the typical holiday card, and my best friends would, god love them, never resort to snail mail. The anticipation was wearing me down, I couldn't wait any longer. I quickly picked up the package and ran into my house, not stopping until I got to my room and the door was securely closed behind me.
I threw my purse and jacket on the floor and made my way through the piles of clothes to reach my bed. The light from the window danced around the room adding a beautiful, soft brightness to the surroundings. I sat on the edge and leaned back, until I was lying on the bed. I held the package above my head and examined it. There was no return address on the package or any writing in the slightest. I frantically turned it around and suddenly my heart fell. I blinked twice in order to prove to myself what I was seeing. I noticed the name written on the reverse side. ‘To Charlotte' it read. Only one person in the world still called me by my full name. Since the age of seven I always insisted on people calling me Charlie. Charlotte was so old sounding, it made me out to be boring and fancy, when in reality I was incredibly loud and utterly immature. As much as I loathed my name, the way he said it, made it sound a lot less horrible. It made me embrace my name. It made it special. It made it our special thing.
I couldn't help but picture his face while grazing the end of the package. I played a game with myself, trying to imagine what was inside. At first I thought it would be an early birthday gift. Then I imagined some of my forgotten belongings he might've found. My good mood faltered a little bit. My curiosity was eating at me. I needed to know, so I decided to take the plunge. I took a deep breath, slid my finger under the opening, and threw open the package faster than a five-year-old on Christmas morning. My hand searched violently through it, and appeared holding a small white envelope no larger than a CD case; clearly subtlety wasn't his strong suit. I once again tore off the paper and threw it onto the floor. I found a CD, no surprise there. I flipped it over to look at the front. Five beautiful faces grinned back at me. My mouth drew into a smile. I carefully took in each face, looking at their eyes and smiles. I scanned from right to left, meeting each pair of eyes until I found his. We made contact, and my heart began to thump loudly in my chest. He looked genuinely happy and carefree. I hadn't seen him this happy since they were put together as a band. A mix of emotions suddenly came over me; sadness, happiness and longing were just a few. It felt like forever since I saw them last. Each of them holding a few good memories in my mind, and one in particular holding a special place in my heart.
I placed the album on the comforter by my leg, and turned to the letter attached to its back. The paper felt thick in between my fingers. A light scent of Blue de Chanel lingered on the paper. I loved that smell. It always reminded me of the nights he would hold me in his arms and we would fall asleep together. In a dream-like haze my eyes trailed across the messily written letter.
Charlotte,
I know this letter has probably given you a shock. Considering the way we left things, you may be wondering why I'm suddenly coming back into your life. I just wanted to let you know that despite our constant mistakes and arguments, you are too special to me. I can't just forget about you. The funny thing is that you are always on my mind. I can't picture myself with anyone but you. Every day that we were apart was another one that I was missing you.
Our memories replayed constantly in my head. So many times I wanted to call you and tell you how I was feeling, but I'm obviously not the best with words. So to show you how I feel, I decided to tell you the only way I knew how. Through song. Every song on the album enclosed is for you, about you, and written while thinking of you. It's our story babe. And I wanted to share it with you and the world.
Harry
Without warning a river of tears cascaded out of my eyes. I read the entire letter twice over, and each time I read it in his voice. His husky, rough, angelic voice that always made me weak at the knees. I opened the case expecting to see the typical store bought CD, with the cliché picture of the artist on it; instead what I found was a blank CD with writing on it.
Seriously, more writing?
‘This is our mixed tape', was written in the same chicken scratch as the package and letter. I traced the letters with my fingers as a smile appeared on my face. I suddenly understood.
I shuffled over to the end of my bed and reached over to my desk to retrieve my laptop. I placed the CD gently into my computer and prepared to download it onto my iTunes. The screensaver popped up first. It was a picture of us together after Bootcamp. The boys were having a party to celebrate their newly formed band. We looked so young, so innocent. It's funny how so much could change in a year. Back then Harry wasn't famous and I wasn't utterly in love with him. We were just best friends and everything was easier. I turned to the iTunes icon and clicked it. I twisted my hair around my finger as I waited for it to open. I bit the inside of my cheek as I questioned what I was doing. Should I really put myself through all of this again? I looked back to the screen and the ‘Would you like to import this album?' message came up. I clicked ‘yes' and waited as the album imported onto my computer. I guess I answered my own question.
I looked around my room and suddenly noticed all of the pictures and souvenirs I still had from our relationship. The pictures from the park where we used to hang out every Saturday. The stuffed elephant he bought me on the day of my first dance recital for good luck. The purple Jack Wills sweater he gave me when I told him my parents separated. I loved that sweater and he knew it.
The album finished importing and I plugged my iPod in and synced it as fast as I could. I closed my eyes and pictured his face again. His dark chocolate brown hair and beautiful green eyes pierced through my hard shell. I had to do this. I was thinking of him and he was clearly thinking of me. My iPod finished syncing and I removed my laptop from my lap and laid down with my head on the pillow. I placed my earphones in my ears and put the album on shuffle. I closed my eyes and prepared myself to listen as my ears would once again be filled with his husky tones. I was ready to go back. To experience our story through his eyes. I wanted to be closer to him, and this was how. I pressed play and gently allowed myself to be taken back.
