“True. There’s no way he could say no to you touching his ass if that was your Make-A-Wish wish,” I claimed.
“So I should tell them my wish is to touch Jamie Bamber’s ass?” she asked.
“I wonder if people ever make wishes like that. You know there’s some twelve-year-old girl with cancer asking to flip tongues with Justin Bieber.”
“You’re sick.”
“No, you’re sick. I’m just trying to make your wishes come true.”
A light tap sounded from Becca’s bedroom window.
“What was that?” she asked. The same sound, louder next time, pinged off the glass. “Go see.”
I slid off the bed and walked over to the window. Caleb stood in his bedroom with his window open, holding an envelope in his hand and waving. I slid open Becca’s window.
“Hi?” I questioned.
“You’re not Rebecca. Is she there?” Caleb’s voice was powerfully low, his muscles so large it looked like his church retreat t-shirt could barely contain them.
“I’m Alex.” I looked back at the bed to see Becca waving her hands no at me. “Becca is… indisposed at the moment. Can I be of service to you?”
“I have something for Rebecca. Becca? If you wouldn’t mind giving it to her.”
I fumbled with the screen until it rose up, and Caleb and I leaned out our windows toward each other. His arms were long and muscularly veiny. I bet if I fell from the window, he would have easily reached down with one arm to catch me. I grabbed the white envelope and landed back on Becca’s floor. “Make sure she gets it, okay?”
“Sure. I will.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and closed his screen, then his window. I did the same, then dove onto Becca’s bed.
“Holy shit. I bet it’s a marriage proposal. He wants you to run away with him to an Amish village or something.”
“He’s not Amish, or he wouldn’t be my next-door neighbor,” Becca reminded me. “Open it. Last time I opened a letter I got a paper cut, and it’s taking forever to heal.”
I gingerly ripped open the plain envelope. On the front was written, “Rebecca.”
“I like how he called you Rebecca. So formal. I’m telling you, he’s going to ask for your hand in marriage. Wait, there would need to be some courting first.”
“The last time his mom talked to my mom was probably fifteen years ago when she insisted on calling me that. They’re not the friendliest neighbors to have, and my mom is too uptight.”
“All this makes the proposal so much more romantic.”
“Oh my god stop. Give me the letter.”
Together we read it in silence.
Dear Rebecca,
I know you don’t know me, but I have seen you coming and going from your house lately in less than your usual shape. I wanted to check in and ask if you are okay and if you need anything. As you know, I’m right next door and almost always home. Just throw something at my window.
P.S. I want to thank you for your visit to my window a few weeks ago. I hope that wasn’t a lone incident.
“Ha!” I blurted. “He totally wants to see your boobs again! ‘Lone incident.’ I bet he had a lone incident after that, if you know what I’m saying.”
“So sweet. Could he be any sweeter? I have to write him back.” A tinge of pink returned to Becca’s cheeks.
We drafted a note to Caleb on some notebook paper. “Why don’t you use your Hello Kitty stationery?” I asked.
“Please. I want to exude an air of sophistication.”
“Becca, you stripped for him in front of his window.”
“In a sophisticated manner.”
Becca thought it best to keep the note short and sweet.
Dear Caleb,
Thank you so much for your thoughtful note. I am home now with cancer, Hodgkin’s lymphoma to be exact. Maybe one day when I’m feeling better we can get a cup of coffee. I would be interested in hearing what homeschooling is like. I’m still hoping to finish up my senior year, so I can go to college. Will you go to college? I better go and rest now.
P.S. I would be glad to also give you a repeat performance when I’m better.
“I love how it goes from ‘fondly’ to ‘I’ll show you my tits again someday.’ Promise!”
“Shut up and deliver the note, please.”
“Do you have any wax you want me to seal it with? A spritz of Kardashian butt spray? A handkerchief?”
“Speedy delivery, Alex!”
I opened up the window and screen.
“What can I throw to get his attention?” I asked.
“How about a jelly bean? Someone sent me a fifty-flavor box.” I picked out a black Jelly Belly, the dreaded licorice flavor, and threw it at Caleb’s window. Within seconds, he appeared again. His shirt and face were moist with sweat, like he had been exercising. From the look of his body, I’m guessing he did that a lot.
I held up the folded paper, and he threw open his window and screen. We made the pass, he thanked me, and we closed up shop again.
I sat back on the bed. “Can I have some jelly beans?” I asked.
“Go for it. I puked a rainbow yesterday.”
“They should put that in an ad.”
We watched two episodes of Battlestar Galactica when Becca’s mom called through the door, “Alex, you should get going. Becca needs her rest.”
“PT scan tomorrow,” Becca told me as I shoved my shoes back on.
“Is that going to suck?” I asked.
“I hope not.” She shuddered.
“Me, too.”
“Since it probably will suck, you have to promise to do something from the Fuck-It List tomorrow and email me about it.”
“I’ll try.” I hiked on my backpack.
“You are not allowed to try; you are only allowed to do.”
“This cancer is making you sound like a Jedi.”
“If I were a Jedi, I wouldn’t have cancer,” Becca pouted.
“President Roslin had cancer.” I pointed at Battlestar Galactica on the TV. “And she’s pretty kick-ass.”
“Great. All I need is some chamalla extract and Cylon blood, and I’ll be cured.” Becca oozed sarcasm. That was my job.
