Fortuity (Transcend 3)

Today, however, I don’t go back to my manuscript after lunch. I force myself to start and finish a letter to Gracelyn. One shot. I forbid myself to start over. If I mess up, I scribble through the words I don’t want, and just keep going. It’s a fucking mess by the time I stuff it into an envelope, seal it, stamp it, and address it to Gracelyn Glock.

Before I second-guess myself, I drop it off at the post office on my way to pick up Morgan from school. No turning back now.

*

Gracelyn

“Mail’s on the counter,” Mr. Hans says as soon as I come down the stairs after throwing my work clothes into the washing machine. “A letter from some guy in Madison, Wisconsin.”

“Guy?” I shoot him a crooked smile while passing the living room on my way to the kitchen. “You mean Morgan.”

“Not this time.”

I pick up the letter with Nate’s name in the upper left-hand corner and hug it to my chest. Closing my eyes, I jump up and down, silently screaming inside with excitement.

“I was excited too.” Mr. Hans startles me.

“Shit!” I jump out of my school-girl reaction, completely embarrassed that he saw it.

He winks, shuffling his feet to the fridge.

“I’m uh …” I clear my throat as if I’m suddenly mature again, not that it matters at this point. “Just going to go read it upstairs.”

After retrieving a can of flavored sparkling water from the fridge, he pops the top and grins. “I figured.”

I nod, giving him a stiff smile as I take slow steps toward the stairs, maintaining that pace until the last five stairs. Then I sprint the rest of the way to my bedroom, close the door, and jump onto my bed. I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. I have to leave in an hour to pick up Gabe from practice.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, I open the letter and unfold it. A smile hits my face so quickly; it almost brings tears to my eyes. His letter is a mess. It’s a maze of words, some scribbled out, some left for me to read. Clearly, he chose to conserve on paper, unlike me and the entire forest of trees that I’ve tossed in the trash without sending one … not one of the many letters I’ve written him.

Gracelyn,

I thought writing to you would make things easier, bridge the two-thousand-mile gap between us. I thought it would make me feel less alone as Morgan fills her free time with new friends, figure skating, listening to music, and practicing the piano. She’s wanted to take piano lessons for years, but I’m sure she’s already told you that.

It’s not easier … writing to you. Nothing is easy at the moment. We’re settled. Morgan is happy. My parents and Jenna’s family are thrilled to have her back in their lives. I’m a few days away from finishing the edits on my manuscript. On the weekends, I’ve been working on building a tree house for Morgan, but it’s getting cold, so I might have to wait until spring to finish it. I have plans to surprise Morgan with a puppy for Christmas.

My life is textbook perfect at the moment. Yet, I can’t bring myself to just BE happy. It’s complicated.

How are your parents? Mr. Hans? Gabe? Who’s renting the house next door? I guess I’m really asking who’s the lucky person who gets to watch you strip every day?

Am I jealous?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

A professor in my old department at the university is retiring at the end of the school year. I’m going to apply for his position. It’s probably a long shot. I miss teaching. Maybe a full-time job will infuse more normalcy into my life again.

It’s funny how easily Morgan jumped into a routine. She thrives on it, which I never expected. I’m the one who can’t seem to adjust. For eight years we’ve lived by the motto: What adventure can we find today? Now, we live by a calendar, move about like robots on autopilot, and rush to not run late.

I never took the chance to thank you for fixing our lice situation. It was the last thing I needed just two days before leaving. Instead of showing my gratitude, I acted like a dick. I’m sorry.

Hopefully, it won’t take me four months again to find the right words to write to you. If it does, I hope your holidays go well. I hope Gabe won’t feel a resurgence of loss, but don’t be surprised if he does. You probably already know this from experience. The holidays are hard.

Love,

Nate

I hug the letter to my chest and fall back onto the bed. Love Nate …

Done. That’s the easy part.

He reminded me that love doesn’t hold on. It lets go. That day in the rain, I let Brandon go. I let Nate go. Yet, the love is still there. I carry it in my heart and in the permanent memories that no one can ever take away.