Authors: Laurel Ulen Curtis
“WOULD YOU LOOK AT
yourself right now?” Ashley said, taking in my sprawled position on our couch, a bag of Cheetos leaning against my hip and at the ready. My hair was sticky with the oil of a beach day and sexy night and yet another day without care, and my clothes were the same ones I’d left Anderson’s apartment wearing. I hadn’t really slept, but I hadn’t cried either. Instead, I’d been nearly unshakable, watching marathons of NCIS and Law and Order and shoving every available food into the hole in my face.
But I hadn’t smoked one goddamn cigarette. I’d quit more than a week ago, but Anderson either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t deemed it worthy of mentioning. Bastard.
If I wasn’t lighting up right now, I was pretty sure I had it kicked. In fact, I was doing pretty fucking well, considering.
“What?” I asked, avoiding the issue like a pro and redirecting the focus to her. “You don’t like Mark Harmon? I thought older men were your thing.”
“Dear God,” she whined, leaning closer to get a better look and swimming well clear of my bait. “There’s old food on your shirt.” She sniffed. “What . . . Is that rotten milk?”
Her nose turned up in disgust.
“Fuck you and your hygiene,” I barked, flipping her off like the delicate lady I was. “I had cereal.”
I looked down. Pretended to dust off some of the crumbs. The food couldn’t be that old. Fourteen hours or so, max.
“And what? Attempted to
pour
it directly down your throat?”
“Shut your pie hole. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t! I have to live here and watch this disgusting display. I have to somehow manage you, get you to a set of a show where this douche also works, and it’ll be easier to do it if you don’t smell like a fucking gutter rat.”
“Douche?”
“Well, he’s obviously done something wrong. You were a fucking smitten kitten a day ago.”
“Maybe I did something wrong,” I muttered just to be petulant in the face of her omniscience. It was pretty immature, even for me.
“I’m sure you did.”
“Hey! I didn’t do one fucking thing!”
“I’m not in the mood to argue with you. Anderson made you really happy. It was obnoxious, but you were actually pleasant. I’m betting he deserves at least one more chance.”
“Samsung Galaxy meet iPhone.”
“What?”
“It’s my new, cooler version of pot meet kettle. AKA, you’re a fucking hypocrite. I haven’t been seeing much of your ‘I’m smooching with Larry’ face lately. What’s up with that?”
Midnight blue eyes shot straight to the ground. “We’re talking about you.”
“Hah! I see how it is.”
Diverting my attention, she changed the subject. Like sister like sister, apparently. “A package came for you.”
“Fuck that.” I waved her off and turned my eyes back to the undeniable chemistry of Tony and Ziva. Bullshit writers. Always making you wait a million years for the happy ending. “It’s probably a free sample razor or something. I have no reason to shave for the rest of my life. You can keep it. Consider it a gift.”
“What? That’s it? One failed relationship and you’re going to be a spinster for the rest of your days?”
“Yes,” I agreed sullenly.
“Will there be cats?”
“Of course there’ll be cats. What do you think I am? Some kind of second rate spinster? Fuck that shit and your fucking free razor package.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I have a sneaking suspicion you want to look at this one.”
“Why?”
“Because the return address is one block up, you obstinate broad.”
I shook my head, clucked my tongue, and ignored the raging beat of my stupid, forlorn heart. “That actually means I want it even
less
than the free razor. Good sales pitch. Your boss wants a meeting. You’re fucking fired.”
“Could you be mature for five seconds? Jesus.”
“I tried the whole mature relationship thing. Look where it got me.” Besides, comedy numbed the pain. At least temporarily.
She growled in frustration. “If you don’t open the package, I’m opening it.”
“Be my guest,” I offered, calling her bluff.
But she wasn’t bluffing, ripping into the tape on the small box and pulling back the flaps only to find an envelope. My heart was in my throat as I watched her. This was the worst possible time for the package inside the package inside the package prank.
If there was another envelope inside the envelope, I might start ripping people apart.
Ashley opened it, and thankfully, there wasn’t another trick inside. A bundle of folded, rough-edged notebook paper came out first, followed shortly by one pristine, new, flat piece of paper.
She didn’t say anything aloud, but her face said it all.
“Let me see it,” I demanded, holding out a shaking hand.
She handed me the new note, and like a starving woman, I ate up the words as quickly as possible.
Easie,
I know this isn’t the way to do this. You deserve an in-person explanation, and you deserved it a long time ago. I still want to give you that, so I won’t say much here. Just know that these are my most prized possessions. I hope when you read them, you’ll give me the chance to explain.
It feels like a lifetime that I’ve been making all of my choices based on these.
When you gave me the chance last night, I should have chosen you.
Anderson
Anger flooded my veins at the lack of information and his cloak and dagger technique. Enough secrets. I just wanted to know what the fuck was going on.
Hand still shaking, I held it out and waited for a silent Ashley to fill it again.
When the paper met my hand, it was soft like butter, a feel acquired by someone running their hands over it a million and one times.
It felt like a ticking bomb as I unfolded the first flap and then the second, sinking down to the couch so I didn’t have to hold my own weight anymore. Anticipation and nerves were making the simple task seem nearly impossible.
Immediately, one very specific word stood out.
Brother.
Reading as fast I could without losing comprehension, I dove in, eating up the words and losing my breath a little more with each one.
Dear Anderson,
Hey, Big Brother! How’s college?
Mom keeps telling me that college is bound to be the best years of your life, but I have a hard time believing it. Seems to me all of that time in a classroom would be a waste when I could be out there living my life!
Exploring and teaching myself all of the important stuff through hands on experience.
That’s what I’m going to do when I’m living free and breathing easy.
I’m going to hike all the time and learn about as many plants and animals as I can while I do it. It just seems more fun that way.
Yeah, I’m definitely not going to college. I’ve got way to much other stuff to do.
Anyway, I miss you, but you know that.
Love,
Evan
PS- Don’t tell mom about the no college thing.
A brother. He had a brother I’d never fucking heard about. Carefully moving that letter to the bottom of the stack, I read the next one.
Dear Anderson,
How’s college? Have you seen any live music?
I’m so into it lately. Ever since Hunter Holston came and performed for us here at the hospital, I haven’t been able to get enough. His fingers moved so fast on the strings of his guitar, and I still can’t seem to figure out how he manages to sing and play at the same time.
It looks almost impossible, but I won’t let that stop me.
That’s what I’m going to do when I’m living free and breathing easy.
I’m going to put in all the time it takes to master singing and playing guitar at the same time, and then I’m going to perform somewhere. Even if I just got to do it every once in a while, it’d be worth all of the effort.
Anyway, I miss you, but you know that.
Love,
Evan
When the same words jumped out at me again—living free and breathing easy—I moved faster, taking in the familiar activities and words to live by like a steady stream of water. Over and over the words smacked me in the face, a heaving pile of letters and letters filled with plans and dreams. All of these things were the Anderson I thought I knew. But these letters were
to
him. These weren’t
his
words.
That’s what I’m going to do when I’m living free and breathing easy. I’m going to learn to surf and ride as many waves as I can fit into a day.
That’s what I’m going to do when I’m living free and breathing easy. I’m going run the Rio Del Lago 100 Mile Endurance Run.
That’s what I’m going to do when I’m living free and breathing easy. I’m going to paddle board from Malibu to Santa Monica.
I’m going to enter a dance marathon and keep going until the end.
I’m going to join a basketball league and keep playing like a kid well into adulthood.
I’m going to learn to wakeboard in the water and ski on the slopes and do it as much as possible.
I’m going to be an actor and live as many lives as possible.
Slowly, I flipped through the letters, watching with a freaky kind of detached emotion as my tears splashed onto the surface of each page. All of them read the same, with Evan speaking words of positivity and planning the rest of his years. And he was going to be busy.
Until
the very last one.
Dear Anderson,
I guess you’ve heard by now. They don’t have any lungs for me.
Turns out I’m never going to live free and breathe easy. It’s kind of freaky to think that I won’t be around to talk to you. You were always the easiest person to talk to because you actually listened.
Plus, you never, ever told me I couldn’t do all of the things I wanted to do.
At first I was pretty bummed that everyone else’s warnings proved true, but then I realized they hadn’t.
I may not ever get to do any of these things for real, but I’ve lived a thousand adventures in my dreams. Mostly because you never told me to stop dreaming.
More than most other people ever come close to experiencing before it’s too late.
So I’m okay with it.
Now, I’ll just have to dream about you doing it for me.
Live Free. Breathe Easy. Do it every day.
Anyway, I’ll miss you.
But you know that.
Love,
Evan
I could barely breathe by the end, and I certainly couldn’t speak. Which is why I waved off Ashley’s pleas to clue her in.
A sob lodged in my throat, cutting off my air for just moments—something Evan had apparently dealt with for too much of his very short lifetime.
“Well?” Ashley prodded, still trying to get an answer that I couldn’t produce.
I shoved the papers in her hands and sank my head between my knees, dizzy with the overwhelming news.
Anderson had a little brother and lost him. I was beyond devastated for him—for his very obvious ongoing battle with the loss. He still lived his brother’s words every day, that much was clear.
What wasn’t was why he wouldn’t have told me about it.
“Why?” I stuttered, forcing my nerves to slow their flutter and meeting Ashley’s eyes with my own. “How could he not tell me? I don’t understand.”
Ashley folded the letters carefully closed, one, solitary tear running over the swell of her cheek and down off the cliff of her jaw.
She took my hands in hers, ignoring the wet trail on her cheek and instead focusing on erasing mine. “Do you think you really know yourself, like you really show who you are to other people?”
“Of course,” I answered automatically.
“Easie.”
Gahhhhh. I clenched my eyes tight and rolled my head, but despite any form of verbal confirmation, Ashley knew she was right. “I have a theory about you, and I’ve had it for a while.”
“This should be rich.”
She skewered me with a look.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not that you aren’t this snarky ball of fire that you kick around every day. It’s that you’re
more
than that.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m fucking serious,” she snapped, getting annoyed with my obvious dismissal. “You can’t find the medium between this and who you used to be. You have a lukewarm heart underneath all that sarcasm.”
“Ouch.”
She laughed, just barely smirking and sinking little dimples into her cheeks. “You care. I know that, you subconsciously know it. But does Anderson know it?”
“He fucking should!”
“Easie.”
Chastised again. “Sorry. Look, I don’t know what he knows or doesn’t. But I wouldn’t have judged him. I wouldn’t have . . . I mean, I don’t even know. What is it that he was afraid I would do?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a question for him, don’t you?”
“You know, Ashley, I’m not sure I’m liking all of this fucking wisdom from you. It’s starting to freak me out.”
“We’ve established this. I’ve
always
been the smarter one. Just accept it and move on.”
“Mom and dad seemed to think I was pretty smart,” I mumbled.
She laughed. “Hah! They think I’m smarter too.”
“Nuh uh!”
“Would you like to call them? Ask their opinion?”
I glared. “You know I don’t.”
She shook her head. “That’s another one of your issues. But it’s one to tackle on a different day.”
She was definitely right about that. Man issues today. Mommy and Daddy issues . . . well, not now.
Decision made, I stood up quickly, ignoring the crumbs that fell from my shirt to the carpet below.
“I’m going over there. Right now.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Ashley rushed out in a panic. “Not like this.”
“What? He sent me these letters,” I said, shaking them, “He obviously wants me to show him I’m ready to talk about it. So I’m going over there.”
“No,” she clarified. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Well, then what do you mean?” I demanded to know, my impatience seeping through me like the ooze of syrup through bread.