Authors: Colleen Hoover
I’m worried about him. It started getting really cold this week and it’s supposed to be even colder next week. If he doesn’t have electricity, that means he doesn’t
have a heater. I hope he at least has blankets. Do you know how awful I would feel if he froze to death? Pretty freaking awful, Ellen.
I’ll find some blankets this week and give them to him.
—Lily
Dear Ellen,
It’s going to start snowing soon so I decided to harvest my garden today. I had already pulled the radishes so I just wanted to put some mulch and compost down, which wouldn’t
have taken me long, but Atlas insisted on helping.
He asked me a lot of questions about gardening and I liked that he seemed interested in my interests. I showed him how to lay the compost and mulch to cover the ground so that the snow
wouldn’t do too much damage. My garden is small compared to most gardens. Maybe ten feet by twelve feet. But it’s all my dad will let me use of the backyard.
Atlas covered the whole thing while I sat cross-legged in the grass and watched him. I wasn’t being lazy, he just took over and wanted to do it so I let him. I can tell he’s a
hard worker. I wonder if maybe keeping himself busy takes his mind off of things and that’s why he always wants to help me so much.
When he was finished, he walked over and dropped down When he was finished, he walked over and dropped down next to me on the grass.next to me on the grass.
“What made you want to grow things?” he asked.
I glanced over at him and he was sitting cross-legged, looking at me curiously. I realized in that moment that he’s probably the best friend I’ve ever had, and we barely know
anything about each other. I have friends at school, but they’re never allowed to come over to my house for obvious reasons. My mother is always worried something might happen with my father
and word might get out about his temper. I also never really get to go to other people’s houses but I’m not sure why. Maybe my father doesn’t want me staying over at
friends’ houses because I might witness how a good husband is supposed to treat his wife. He probably wants me to believe the way he treats my mother is normal.
Atlas is the first friend I’ve ever had that’s ever been inside my house. He’s also the first friend to know how much I like to garden. And now he’s the first friend
to ever ask me why I garden.
I reached down and pulled at a weed and started tearing it into little pieces while I thought about his question.
“When I was ten, my mother got me a subscription to a website called Seeds Anonymous,” I said. “Every month I would get an unmarked package of seeds in the mail with
instructions on how to plant them and care for them. I wouldn’t know what I was growing until it came up out of the ground. Every day after school I’d run straight to the backyard to
see the progress. It gave me something to look forward to. Growing things felt like a reward.”
I could feel Atlas staring at me when he asked, “A reward for what?”
I shrugged. “For loving my plants the right way. Plants reward you based on the amount of love you show them. If you’re cruel to them or neglect them, they give you nothing. But
if you care for them and love them the right way, they reward you with gifts in the form of vegetables or fruits or flowers.” I looked down at the weed I was tearing apart in my hands and
there was barely an inch left of it. I wadded it up between my fingers and flicked it.
I didn’t want to look over at Atlas because I could still feel him staring, so instead, I just stared out over my mulch-covered garden.
“We’re just alike,” he said.
My eyes flicked to his. “Me and you?”
He shook his head. “No. Plants and humans. Plants need to be loved the right way in order to survive. So do humans. We rely on our parents from birth to love us enough to keep us alive.
And if our parents show us the right kind of love, we turn out as better humans overall. But if we’re neglected . . .”
His voice grew quiet. Almost sad. He wiped his hands on his knees, trying to get some of the dirt off. “If we’re neglected, we end up homeless and incapable of anything
meaningful.”
His words made my heart feel like the mulch he had just laid out. I didn’t even know what to say to that. Does he really think that about himself?
He acted like he was about to get up, but before he did I said his name.
He sat back down in the grass. I pointed at the row of trees that lined the fence to the left of the yard. “You see that tree over there?” In the middle of the row of trees was an
oak tree that stood taller than all the rest of the trees.
Atlas glanced over at it and dragged his eyes all the way up to the top of the tree.
“It grew on its own,” I said. “Most plants do need a lot of care to survive. But some things, like trees, are strong enough to do it by just relying on themselves and nobody
else.”
I had no idea if he knew what I was trying to say without me coming out and saying it. But I just wanted him to know that I thought he was strong enough to survive whatever was going on in
his life. I didn’t know him well, but I could tell he was resilient. Way more than I would ever be if I were in his situation.
His eyes were glued to the tree. It was a long time before he even blinked. When he finally did, he just nodded a little and looked down at the grass. I thought with the way his mouth
twitched that he was about to frown, but instead he actually smiled a little.
Seeing that smile made my heart feel like I had just startled it right out of a dead sleep.
“We’re just alike,” he said, repeating himself from earlier.
“Plants and humans?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. Me and you.”
I gasped, Ellen. I hope he didn’t notice, but I definitely sucked in a rush of air. Because what the heck was I supposed to say to that?
I just sat there, really awkward and quiet until he stood up. He turned like he was about to walk home.
“Atlas, wait.”
He glanced back down at me. I pointed at his hands and said, “You might want to take a quick shower before you go back. Compost is made from cow manure.”
He lifted his hands and looked down at them and then he looked down at his compost-covered clothes.
“Cow manure? Seriously?”
I grinned and nodded. He laughed a little and then before I knew it, he was on the ground next to me, wiping his hands all over me. We were both laughing as he reached to the bag next to us
and stuck his hand inside, then smeared it down my arms.
Ellen, I am confident that the next sentence I am about to write has never been written or spoken aloud before.
When he was wiping that cow shit on me, it was quite possibly the most turned-on I have ever been.
After a few minutes, we were both lying on the ground, breathing hard, still laughing. He finally stood up and pulled me to my feet, knowing he couldn’t waste minutes if he wanted a
shower before my parents came home.
Once he was in the shower, I washed my hands in the sink and just stood there, wondering what he meant earlier when he said we were just alike.
Was it a compliment? It sure felt like one. Was he saying that he thought I was strong, too? Because I certainly didn’t feel strong most of the time. In that moment, just thinking about
him made me feel weak. I wondered what I was going to do about the way I was starting to feel when I was around him.
I also wondered how long I can keep hiding him from my parents. And how long he’ll be staying at that house. Winters in Maine are unbearably cold and he won’t survive without a
heater.
Or blankets.
I gathered myself and went in search of all the spare blankets I could find. I was going to give them to him when he got out of the shower, but it was already five and he left in a
hurry.
I’ll give them to him tomorrow.
—Lily
Dear Ellen,
Harry Connick Jr. is freaking hilarious. I’m not sure if you’ve ever had him on your show, because I hate to admit I’ve probably missed an episode or two since you’ve
been on the air, but if you’ve never had him, you should. Actually, have you ever watched
Late Night with Conan O’Brien
? He has this guy named Andy who sits on the couch for
every episode. I wish Harry could sit on your couch for every episode. He just has the best one-liners, and the two of you toget.her would be epic.
I just want to say thank you. I know that you don’t have a show on TV for the sole purpose of making me laugh, but sometimes it feels that way. Sometimes my life just makes me feel like
I’ve lost the ability to laugh or smile, but then I turn on your show and no matter what mood I’m in when I turn on the TV, I always feel better by the time your show is over.
So yeah. Thanks for that.
I know you probably want an update on Atlas, and I’ll give you one in a second. But first I need to tell you about what happened yesterday.
My mother is a teaching assistant over at Brimer Elementary. It’s a bit of a drive and that’s why she never gets home until around five o’clock. My dad works two miles from
here, so he’s always home right after five.
We have a garage, but only one car can fit in it because of all my dad’s stuff. My dad keeps his car in the garage and my mom keeps her car in the driveway.
Well, yesterday my mom got home a little bit early. Atlas was still at the house and we were almost finished watching your show when I heard the garage door start to open. He ran out the back
door and I rushed around the living room cleaning up our soda cans and snacks.
It had started snowing really hard around lunchtime yesterday and my mother had a lot of stuff to carry in, so she pulled up in the garage so she could bring it all in through the kitchen
door. It was work stuff and a few groceries. I was helping her bring everything inside when my dad pulled up in the driveway. He started honking his horn because he was mad that my mom was parked
in the garage. I guess he didn’t want to have to get out of his car in the snow. That’s the only thing I can think of that would make him want her to move her car right then and there,
instead of just waiting until she was finished unloading it. Come to think of it, why does my father always get the garage? You would think a man wouldn’t want the woman he loves to get the
shittier parking spot.
Anyway, my mother got that real scared look in her eye when he started honking and she told me to take all her stuff to the table while she moved her car out.
I’m not sure what happened when she went back outside. I heard a crash, and then I heard her scream, so I ran to the garage thinking maybe she had slipped on ice.
Ellen . . . I don’t even want to describe what happened next. I’m still a little shocked by the whole thing.
I opened the garage door and didn’t see my mom. I just saw my dad behind the car doing something. I took a step closer and realized why I couldn’t see my mom. He had her pushed
down on the hood with his hands around her throat.
He was choking her, Ellen!
I might cry just thinking about it. He was yelling at her, staring down at her with so much hatred. Something about not having respect for how hard he works. I don’t know why he was
mad, really, because all I could hear was her silence while she struggled to breathe. The next few minutes are a blur, but I know I started screaming at him. I jumped on his back and I was hitting
him on the side of his head.
Then I wasn’t.
I don’t really know what happened, but I’m guessing he threw me off of him. I just remembered one second I was on his back and the next second I was on the ground and my forehead
hurt like you wouldn’t believe. My mom was sitting next to me, holding my head and telling me she was sorry. I looked around for my dad, but he wasn’t there. He’d gotten into his
car and drove off after I hit my head.
My mom gave me a rag and told me to hold it to my head because it was bleeding and then she helped me to her car and drove me to the hospital. On the way there she only said one thing to
me.
“When they ask you what happened, tell them you slipped on the ice.”
When she said that, I just looked out my window and started crying. Because I thought for sure this was the final straw. That she would leave him now that he had hurt me. That was the moment
I realized that she’d never leave him. I felt so defeated, but I was too scared to say anything to her about it.
I had to get nine stitches in my forehead. I’m still not sure what I hit my head on, but it doesn’t really matter. The fact is, my father was the reason I was hurt and he
didn’t even stay and check on me. He just left us both there on the floor of the garage and left.
I got home really late last night and fell right to sleep because they had given me some kind of pain pill.
This morning when I walked to the bus, I tried not to look directly at Atlas so he wouldn’t see my forehead. I had fixed my hair so that you couldn’t really see it and he
didn’t notice right away. When we sat down next to each other on the bus, our hands touched when we were putting our stuff on the floor.
His hands were like ice, Ellen. Ice.
That’s when I realized that I forgot to give him the blankets I had pulled out for him yesterday because my mother got home sooner than I expected. The incident in the garage sort of
took over all my thoughts and I completely forgot about him. It had snowed and iced all night and he had been over there at that house in the dark all by himself. And now he was so cold, I
didn’t know how he was even functioning.