had kept the box, but I had. It sat in the bottom of my closet, buried on the left side beneath an old hoodie and a ripped pair of jeans, until I had gotten the first letter from Ever Eliot and needed somewhere safe and private to keep the letter.
Now, the blue box with the red Union Jack flag had twelve letters in it, and it sat under my bed.
I slid the box back under the frame of my bed and moved to my desk. Even though I had a laptop and there was a printer in the living room, I still wrote the letters by hand. I took a long time for each letter, because my handwriting is almost illegibly sloppy most of the time.
I stared down at the spiral-bound notebook for a long, long time, the pencil in my fingers, unable to summon the words. I blinked, took a deep breath, clicked the top of the mechanical pencil and started writing.
Ever,
It feels stupid to write “dear” all the time. So I’ll leave that part off, I guess, unless I think of something else to put there.
I’m writing, but I’m not really sure how long this letter will be. Mom is in the hospital full-time now. She stopped the chemo, said no to surgeries. I guess they said they could do a surgery and it had a 20% chance of working, and it was really dangerous. She said no. They already removed her breasts. She has no hair. She’s like a stick covered in paper, now. She’s my mom, in her eyes, but she’s not. I don’t know how to put it.
Ever, I’m scared. I’m afraid of losing her, yeah, but I’m afraid for my dad. He’s losing his mind. I don’t mean that in an exaggeration. I mean it for real. He doesn’t leave her side, not even to eat. No can, or even tries to make him leave.
Will it make me sound selfish if I say I’m afraid of losing him too? It’s like as sick as Mom gets, he’s there with her. Going with her. But I’m only 15, and I need my parents. I know Mom is going to die, but does Dad have to go too? He loves her so much, but what about me?
I hate how whiny that sounds.
Please send me one of your pictures.
Your always friend,
Caden.
PS, I tried something besides “sincerely” because that sounds stupid too. But I’m not sure if what I put is more stupid.
PSS, Is there a difference between saying “photo” and “picture”?
I thought about signing it again, but didn’t. Before I could chicken out, I folded the letter carefully and put into an envelope, stuck a stamp to it, and put it in the mailbox. I was home, and Dad was at the hospital. He always made me come home and do my homework before coming to the hospital. Something about “normalcy.”
Like any such thing existed anymore.
Jack & Jasinda Wilder
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Links to Jasinda’s other titles:
The Preacher's Son #1 #2 #3
Biker Billionaire #1 #2 #3 & Omnibus
Big Girls Do It Better (#1) Wetter (#2) Wilder (#3) On Top (#4) Married (#5)
On Christmas (#5.5) & Omnibus
Delilah's Diary #1 #2 #3
Wounded
Rock Stars Do It Harder
Rock Stars Do It Dirty
Rock Stars Do It Forever
Rock Stars Do It Paperback Omnibus
Falling Into You
Falling Into Us
Big Girls Do It Pregnant
Stripped
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