A Letter To You

Letter Number 14 - Shattered

Dear Ollie

After the dinner at your house, the next two weeks flew by smoothly, without any problems. It was starting to get a little warmer outside, but other than that life was exactly the same. The topic of Will or your mother wasn’t mentioned again, and you and I returned to our normal joking around routine. However this smooth non-problematic life didn’t last very long.

I thought Friday the 16th of March would just be a normal day considering the past two weeks had been extremely normal and uneventful, but unfortunately I was wrong. The lunch bell had just rung and I was nonchalantly making my way back to the main building from the science block after Biology.

I was walking across the school courtyard when out of nowhere someone grabbed my arms and spun me round. I was about to start screaming and struggling, but then I realised it was only you.

“Oh, hey Ollie” I said with a bright smile.

You looked around cautiously before saying “I need to ask you something”

“Sure, what do you want?”

“Okay. Well, I’ve been in the doghouse with someone for a long time now, and I wondering since you’re a girl and everything, how would you want to make it up to you if I’d upset you?” I found your question ridiculously ironic because you had already been in my doghouse a number of times and you didn’t have to really do anything to get out of it because I couldn’t bring myself to stay mad at you, even though some of the things you had done were pretty unforgivable.

“Why are you asking now?”

 “In a couple of weeks it’s someone’s birthday and I really want to see them, but this persons mother is really mad at me, and I want to be in her good books just long enough to be able to see my… I mean this certain someone” you explained. I didn’t miss your slip up, but I decided it’d be best if I didn’t question it.

“Have you tried saying sorry?” I wondered.

“What do you think” you answered sarcastically.

“Okay, okay, I admit that was a stupid question,” I mumbled looking down at my shoes “How long have you been in the doghouse?”

You nervously scratched your head “Almosttwoyears” you muttered almost too quickly for me to hear.

“I beg your pardon” I said, having to be sure I did hear you right.

“Almost two years,” you whispered, looking anywhere but at me.

“OLIVER HARRISON!” I screeched in shock. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Two years was a long time to be in the doghouse; it made my day long grudges seem pathetic. In my mind all I was thinking at that point was what you’d done must have been terrible, or that the person in question was just one stubborn b*tch.

“What I did is again a very long, very personal story, which this time I would rather keep to myself” You told me with sincerity.

That statement got the cogs turning inside my head. It was the first thing I had asked you about, which you refused to explain, and I couldn’t help but begin to wonder what exactly your life was like before I showed up. I wanted to know how you differed from the person you were then, and what you had said or done to this poor woman to make her hate you so much.

“That’s okay. Now I suggest asking her to dinner, maybe?” I offered hesitantly.

“Tried that. It failed awfully” you deadpanned

“Oh, erm” I paused trying to think of more ideas “You could buy her flowers, most women love flowers” I said awkwardly shifting on the balls of my feet.