The second letter I receive from the mysterious Charlie boy arrived just more than two weeks after the first.
That morning when I noticed the corner of a white envelope sticking out of the mailbox, I snatched it before either of my parents were aware it was there.
Similar to the first, my address was scribbled in dark ink on the front and a stamp was crookedly placed in the corner. Once I was inside my bedroom, I spent no time tearing the envelope open like a small child on Christmas morning unwrapping gifts.
The writing matched the last letter and I didn't even have to skip to the end of the letter to know it was another message from Charlie.
"Dear friend,
I do not like high school."
I chuckled a bit, remembering how much I disliked high school when I was a freshman. I started high school a year after the day I miraculously survived from too much water in my lungs. The doctors were certain I wouldn't make it and my parents had been told to say their goodbyes.
My eyes continued to work their way down the page, analyzing the words carefully written in ink by this boy. There was not a single mistake or scratched out word. It was fairly tidy. I suddenly remembered my countless letters to Van Houten. How carefully I had written them in an attempt to impress him. Maybe to cause him to think I was different and wasn't just someone who enjoyed his book.
In this letter, Charlie spoke of how lonely he was as he wandered the halls of his brand new school. He spoke of another boy in his grade who he called Sean and wrote about a fight they had after gym class one day.
I longed to tell this boy that he will make some friends and that most people are feeling just as lonely as he is. Of course, I couldn't.
"Hazel?"
I jumped a little and shoved the letter under my comforter. I looked up sheepishly.
Isaac was standing in the doorway to my bedroom, I felt a bit of guilty relief remembering that he was now blind.
"Yes? What are you doing here?" I asked.
Isaac wore dark black shades and held a long walking stick in his left hand to make sure he didn't walk into things. I noticed his head tilting slightly in different directions, trying to follow the source of my voice to face me properly.
"Your mom let me in, I just didn't want to be alone anymore." He sighed.
I felt like an awful friend for not spending more time with him after Augustus' funeral. At first, I tried to remain close with him but I withdrew from people and didn't return anyone's calls. I'm sure if it were me that had died, Isaac and Augustus would not have separated. I bit my lip.
"Yeah I understand, I'm sorry I haven't called you or anything." I say apologetically.
"Don't apologize. I get it." Isaac said.
Then his lips tilted upwards into a slight smirk.
"What's that paper you got there?" He asked.
Instinctively, I glanced downwards to where I had hidden Charlie's letter under my blankets.
"I... Don't have anything." I lied.
"Yes you do, I heard paper crumple when I walked in."
"It was a newspaper."
"Liar, newspaper makes a more subtle sounding crumple. That was definitely regular paper."
"God Isaac, for a blind guy you're really aware." I said.
"My sense of hearing has sharpened, now what was the paper?" He asked. "Was it a diary?" He added mockingly.
I hesitantly retrieved the letter from under my blanket and placed it on the bed. I sighed.
"Jeez, give me a little more credit. Diaries are for wimps. It's a letter."
"Oh don't tell me that asshole Houten is starting to write you letters again." Isaac scoffed.
It had never been Van Houten that had replied to my emails. Always his assistant. I guess Gus and I neglected to inform Isaac but it didn't seem to matter anymore.
"No, they aren't from him." I respond quietly, not wanting my parents to hear our conversation from downstairs.
"Wait... 'They'? Like plural? How many did you get?" Isaac asked.
Dammit.
"So far only two."
"So far?"
"Well yeah, the person seems to want to keep writing to me." I explain.
Isaac's dark eyebrows raise slightly. "Who is it?"
Charlie. But that's not his real name.
I felt like telling Isaac was somehow stabbing Charlie in the back. Like if Charlie were standing with us in the room, he would be silently pleading with me not to tell him. But do I know this is how he would feel for certain?
"He's just some kid." I shrug.
"Age?"
"He's like fourteen or fifteen. Sheesh I don't know, why are you interrogating me?" I respond.
"Seriously Hazel, how do you know he's not some stalker old guy? Like, he knows where you live and your name and all about you but you don't know a thing about him." Isaac argues.
I know that he has a point, I'll admit that the thought has crossed my mind. For all I knew, Charlie could be a stalker or whatever. But his words were so sincere, so easy to relate to. Only someone around my age and the age Charlie claims to be could understand each other on that level.
I sigh.
"Thanks for the concern, Isaac. But I really am confident that no harm will come from these letters." I say softly.
Isaac shrugs and laughs to himself. "Fine, fine, don't expect me to save you though when this creepy dude throws you in the back of his white van."
Even I manage to chuckle at this although I try my best to conceal it. I've missed Isaac, and now more than ever I feel guilty for not speaking with him more.
"Thanks for coming over." I say without warning.
"Don't mention it." He smiles, facing absentmindedly towards the window as if he could see the trees swaying in the wind outside. At least I could.
I know I should be more grateful for what I have. Isaac has done a fine job at keeping his life together and the poor guy is blind.
I completely forget about Charlie's letter and sit silently with Isaac until it's time for him to leave.
YOU ARE READING
The Perks of Being a Side Effect
Short StoryIt's been three months since Augustus Waters passed and left Hazel alone and heartbroken. She can't help herself from dwelling on the pain of his untimely death rather than cherishing the memories they shared, resulting in isolating herself from eve...