Losing A Friend

LETTER 4

He was at the library—her favorite place.

He wasn't sure why he was there. He was supposed to be grabbing a coffee before heading back to work, but somehow he found himself at the library. He was in the middle of an aisle of books. He was staring at a book that looked oddly similar.

He grabbed the book and took it to the checkout station; the woman smiled at him.

"This is the first time I've seen you here; you don't look much like a-" she glanced down at the book, "Oh!" her eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"Yes?" he asked, confused, and curious at what she was going to say. She looked to be his age, possibly a little older. She had dark brown hair and wore glasses that accented her eyes nicely. If he were interested enough, he would have complimented her and even ask if she was available to have lunch, but since he wasn't, he just acknowledged her pure beauty.

"Sorry," She said as she looked back up to him, "I was just thinking about how I hadn't seen the girl that normally checks out this book in a while. Can I have your library card?"

He raised his eyebrows and took out the library card that he had only used once or twice and handed it to her. "Did she check it out all the time?" He asked.

"Yeah, she checked this one and another classic literature book." She said as she scanned the small book and handed it back to him, "It's due in 2 weeks."

"She must've loved this book in that case," he responded.

"Yeah, she was charming and kind of young, I didn't peg her as a classic literature reader, you know? Most young girls read young adult books. I loved her hair; it was long and black. Although she was reticent." She said as she grabbed some books and put them in a cart next to her desk.

"Dark hair?"

She hummed in response, "Her eyes were a dark brown color, and she always wore hoodies and leggings. And when she used to sit down and read the book, she would have a habit of bringing the book close to her face."

He froze. She looked up at him, "Did you know her?"

He slightly nodded, "I believe I do." No wonder he recognized the book.

"I can look up who checked it out last if you want?"

"Please, and thank you." She smiled and started typing the title of the book.

"It looks like a girl named ______________. She has checked it out a lot, mainly the only person other than a few people here and there."

It was her. He remembered how she fell in love with the story and the way it referenced many things and just the way it was written. He remembered how she would always carry it around.

"If you know her, you should tell her to come in again, that we miss her. And her books-" she pointed to the one in his hands, "miss her too."

He nodded, not having the courage to tell her she wouldn't be coming back ever again.

She smiled before turning her attention to another customer.

He walked away, holding the book tightly. His phone at that moment started ringing. He took it out of his pocket and noticed it was his supervisor. He swore, before picking up and apologizing, and saying he would be arriving there in a couple of minutes.

When he got home, he threw his jacket on to his couch and sat down–book in his hand. He flipped it open, not sure what to do.

He wasn't much of a literature guy. Most of what he read was manga and comics. He flipped through the pages and then sat the book down on his coffee table.

He stood up once again and turned towards his dining table. He walked to it, and he ran his finger on the edge of the fifth letter.

He picked it and opened it.

Dear,

We got in a fight—my fault. I shouldn't have brought up the fact that we never see my family. I shouldn't have raised my voice and blamed him for not being able to see them.

He became enraged. He asked if what he was doing for us and our future wasn't good enough. He started telling me that we would see them when we could, but right now, he wanted to focus on us.

I asked him why we have time for his family but not mine. He said I was crazy. We didn't see his family much. But we have. More than I can count on both my hands. And my family. Only twice.

He threw the tv remote towards my direction, barely missing me. I felt so scared and ashamed. He then pulled me to him and gripped my wrists. It hurt.

He told me I was ungrateful. Which I am. How could I not see the fact that he was working so hard to keep us in the life we were living. He always got me what I wanted and needed. He still showed his love for me. He took me out and spoiled me. He got us this beautiful place to live in and paid for everything.

He helped me with school work and tried his best to keep us happy.

Why was I so ungrateful and rude to him?

He then shoved me to the ground. I apologized and hugged him. He kissed my head and told me I could make it up to him. I nodded my head. Of course, I would. I loved him.

I let him pull me into our bedroom; I was tired of our argument, I didn't have energy, I didn't want to. I told him, no, and he slightly pushed me on the bed.

But I let him enjoy himself. Even if I didn't want to because I loved him. I wanted to prove my love for him. And this was one way to make him happy.

With much love.