𝕸𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝕽𝐀𝐈𝐍

( xx. ) 𝔂𝐨𝐮 𝓬 𝐚𝐧 𝓯 𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝓽 𝐡𝐢𝐬

dedicated to the beloved allie / -upthathill !
while creating this bond between max and
dahlia has been an absolute joy,  i must say
that experiencing the joy of becoming your
friend has been my favorite part.  our girls
go through the ringer and we play mother
swift while writing their misfortunes and
their triumphs.   this is long overdue,  i do
believe.  love to you  'forever and always'.

YOU CAN SAY ANYTHING AND I WILL NOT
ABANDON YOU.  UNWRAP THE WORST
THINGS YOU HAVE DONE. WATCH ME
HOLD THEM UP TO THE LIGHT AND
NOT EVEN FLINCH.

—  trista mateer

Max,

I have one thousand thrown out speeches that have almost wound up in your mailbox.  For all the stories I have written,  it seems that writing this may be the most difficult.

I have been putting off since the day I arrived home.  Hope has never been my strong point ;  realism with a healthy dosage of pessimism keeps the heart intact,  after all.   Yet there are some situations you cannot accept.  I have run across it before and wished to never live it again.  First mistake,  I suppose.

I have enough to say to rewrite the genetic code of the five billion people on this planet.   You are someone I never saw myself meeting.   Not in visions,  not in illusions of hope that I could paint for El.  I never saw you coming.   One aiming to save face may claim that,  if they had,  they would have been prepared.   I know myself well enough to know that I never saw you coming,  but even if I had,   I would still never be the same.

Even writing this at your hospital bedside has not convinced me that I would want it any other way.   What is grief if not the presence of love?   What is devotion if not hours sat vigil?   I did not believe I could love another in the fierce way I love El.  You have proved me wrong —  or,  as you would say,  you have done the impossible.   I do not know if you believe I don't notice the way you glance for approval,  the way you glow beneath praise that you should have been receiving from the very beginning,  but I do.   I notice.   Allow me to say,  Max,  that you have changed several impossibilities in my life.  I know your hurt tells you that you need my approval,  but you don't.   You do not need anyone's approval.   You have no reason to be afraid of your decisions,  of your life,   because your scarred hands have begun crafting quite an amazing one for yourself.

I use the present tense because you will make it.   The one thing I cannot approve of on your end is your stubborn march towards your own doom.   Several medical  "professionals"  believe it to be a possibility.   I do not.   You are not allowed to abandon this life you can have through your own hard work.   You are not allowed to abandon this world when it has been made for you,  when you have something no one can take away.   I do not care if death calls for you,  Max.   I will disconnect every phone within your soul and leave it to find another line.  

Because the truth is this.   I have never been able to admit it aloud in the fear that the universe will hear,  but I have lost people before.   Those I have cared for have either died or come close.   Behind me is a trail of graves.   This time I am not allowing the site to be dug.  You are not going anywhere,  there is no need for graveside mourners.   It does not matter that eulogies are prepared or outfits are slowly being studied.   None of this matters because you are not leaving.  None of this matters because you have grown on me,  Osita,  and you are not about to fall away now.   Heaven and Hell be damned,  you are not going.

I knew you were determined from the first moment we spoke.   You need only show the universe everything you have shown me.

I received your letter.  Lucas passed it along upon my arrival back home.   Michael tried to keep him from it,  tried using the usage of the words mental,  catatonic,  overwhelming.  It is pathetic,  his belief that I will choose whatever he says over what you have left to me.  His claim to believe I do not care for anyone seems to be falling flatter these days,  Mr. Everything Revolves Around Me finally coming to realize that you are not anyone.   You are Max.  You have been an exception to my distaste towards the general public from day one,  even with your ceaseless questions that first day.   I grew to enjoy answering them,  grew to enjoy the idea of teaching you more about the world and vice versa.   The lack of annoying traits you carry is unsettling and therefore welcomed.   Those boys had been getting on my nerves when you came into town,  yet your presence balanced out the sheer exhaustion they provided me with.

I didn't realize how much I desired that.   A twin flame that couldn't burn out despite the world's desperation to pinch away the wick,  someone who understands silence to be a own secret language not destined to be spoken with anyone else.
You say I never pushed.  That is because I understood,  because I understand,  that some things are experiences beyond words.   You knew it then and I hope you know it now,  for that is how I conveyed everything that now seems pusillanimous to have kept quiet.   William never told you how important you were —  primarily because he was a coward too blind and ignorant to see the exceptional family he had,  sans Neil  —   and I hated him for it.   Hypocritical,  is it not,  for hating him for the very crime I committed?

I should not use the promise of affection as leverage no matter how faithful to my word I intend to be.   It is unethical and machiavellian.   Then again,  those are my two strongest traits and I am unafraid to use them to secure a future in which you are alive enough to scold me for it.  You can be as angry as you wish,  call me cruel or tell me I am a nerd for thinking things out so thoroughly.   I do not care.   Be awake,  be alive enough to be angry with me.   Indulge in Michael being perturbed by how much you get away with while we pretend not to notice.   Hear me say it aloud for once,  hear me tell you that you are my sister and I do love you as such.  Do not leave now,  not when the world is still before you.   Do not leave El.  Do not leave Lucas.  Do not leave me.

I am an expert on funerals.  That is how I know you will not be having one,  not any time soon.   I do not care what anyone says.  They can watch me save you.   They will watch me save you.

Because you are my osita hermana.   My little bear cub of a sister,  fierce and feisty and bold.   You can do anything you put your mind to,  you always have been.   You are independent,  you are true,  you are loyal,  you are witty,  you are brave,  far braver than you should be at this age.   You are worth saving.

So watch me save you.   The same way you saved me.

Haré un trato con Dios,
Dahlia