Dear Meggie

January 1st, 2013

January 1st, 2013

 

Dear Meggie,

In all of these tears, I still write to you. But only because you’re one of the three people on this universe who actually know what happened last night. Or you will be soon, anyway.

So me and you, we went to that party, right? Garret’s party? Turns out no one even noticed I was gone. By then, everyone had forgotten about my terrible talent show thing. All except a few, but I could still manage.

As soon as we entered the doors, I heard that trashy pop music blaring, and screams all around us, a group chanting “chug!” while a boy downed a bottle of liquor, couples making out all over the place, and a boy greeted us at the front door, said, “Happy New Year, guys!” and handed us both a red plastic cup, filled with what I guessed to be alcohol.

You downed yours in seconds. I took a small sip of mine and tasted sour cinnamon. You seemed to enjoy yours quite a bit.

Frankly I didn’t see why anyone would enjoy a sour tasting liquid that kills your brain cells.

You instantly spotted Will, who had certainly spotted you, and he ducked behind a group of sluttily dressed freshmen girls. You went after him.

I, on the other hand, had quite the interesting meeting with Matt.

He smiled at me, and I looked at him in disgust. He was only half clothed, and his jeans hung dangerously low against his hip. It made me wonder just who was in the bedroom with him. The last girl I knew he slept with practically disappeared from the group entirely.

And then I saw Sarah walk down the stairs.

Now, if Sarah had been intoxicated, I would have gladly scolded both of them, and told Sarah that this was Matt, and that she just made a huge mistake. If she had been intoxicated I would have felt the least bit of sympathy for her.

Sarah, however, was not intoxicated. She was smoking a cigarette, and patted Matt’s shoulder. “Good job, Matty,” she said.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “Aren’t you with Garret?”
“He didn’t seem so fond of me while he was making out with Kelly,” she said, frowning. “Don’t tell a soul about this or I swear to God-”

“Just as long as neither of you tell Meggie about my feelings for Will,” I said. She smiled. “Of course not.”

Not like anything matters anymore anyway.

So I walked to find you, after downing the rest of my cup, and you were waiting in line to jump on the trampoline, and I looked at you, and you smiled at me, and we just were like that for a moment, until the girl who was jumping jumped a little too much, and was caught in the arms of some kid who toppled over into the middle of us broke us apart. You ran the opposite direction of me.

Looks like I can never tell you these things.

I was near tears, when Will found me. He put his arm around my shoulder, and I just began to sob, and I told Will everything, such as how I’ve been feeling, and how my mother is, and how my father is, and how my life is just so terrible.

And he sat with me through it all, saying, “It’s okay, Harriett.” And when I finally stopped my blubbering, and looked at him, and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he just looked gorgeous, and it was there that I decided that I loved William Pervelli, and that I still do.

And I told him, “Will, I love you,” and he looked at me, he said, “You’re drunk,” and I said, “Not drunk enough to know who I love and don’t,” and I sat up and kissed him right on the lips on Garret’s mother’s bed, and he kissed me back, and it was just perfect, perfection at it’s height. I remember his lips tasted like cherry vodka that night, and I remember that he told me he loved me back.

Yes I may love your boyfriend, and yes maybe he loves me back, and yes maybe this world is fucked up, and yes there are times when I just can’t stand it, and yes there are times when I could just end it all, but this was not one of those times.

And yes, I may have lost my virginity to Will Pervelli.

And when we had finished, and he got in his car to drive me home from that shithole of a party, I didn’t care he was drunk, all I cared was that he told me he loved me back.

And no, I never invited him to come inside with me, or to just sleep there because it was a bad idea to be drunk driving.

And yes, I deeply regret the fact that that night, William Pervelli died at the age of eighteen in his car, and I could’ve stopped it, but I didn’t.

And yes, I slept with your now dead boyfriend.

I’m so, so sorry,

Harriett