Letters to The Fighter ✔

13. David

Dear Peter,

I'm at a reading. I have an hour before I have to go, but I thought that was enough time for a letter. 

I don't know if you're aware, but I wrote a sequel to "Colorful Illusions," and it's been a huge seller. It's the second part of Max and Hazel's story. Let me refresh your memory.

Max was a magician in Ireland. Poor, happy, and talented. Hazel was a renowned artist. Rich, unhappy, and talented. Whereas Max led a life full of wonder and illusion, Hazel's life was never her own. Their worlds crossed paths—no, their worlds collided—and everything changed. Hazel never believed in magic until she met Max. He filled her world with colors that she'd never known existed. 

I wrote the first part before I'd ever experienced love for myself, before I met you. 

I guess that's why it was so perfect. The second book also includes a happy ending for Max and Hazel. 

Just because I haven't gotten mine, doesn't mean they shouldn't get theirs.

And perhaps that's why people enjoy reading stories with perfectly happy endings. 

Because they never got their own. 

***

I was with Zoya the day that she met David. All three of us were in the same History class. She and I sat in the very back of the class, often exchanging notes and making the otherwise monotonous and boring class bearable for one another. 

One day, Zoya folded her note into a small paper airplane and attempted to throw it so it would land on my desk. Her aim was miserly and it flew past me and onto David's, who sat only a few seats over. 

She would always gush to me like a high school girl about how cute she thought David was. Personally, I never saw him the way that she did, but of course I'd never tell her that. Zoya was quirky, confident, and funny. David always came across as boring. He wasn't colorful or bright enough for her.

After class, he sauntered past my desk, airplane in hand. With a charming smile, he held it out to Zoya. 

"I believe this is yours?" he said, making it sound more like a question. 

After that, they would go out nearly every day. It felt like Zoya only came home to sleep. I never told you this, but a small part of me felt like I was losing my best friend to a guy. But I was happy for her. She'd found someone that she loved. 

And now, two years later, they were getting married. It was the perfect love story.  

Zoya and I were on our way back from our trip to Maryland when Charlie called. We had gone to visit my parents, who always treated her like her own daughter. Zoya's own parents never supported any decision she made. They didn't want her to study fashion, be with David, or live in NYC. So they cut her out of their lives years ago.

"Lucy!" Charlie sang through the phone, "Where are you right now? Are you home? Is Zoya with you? Put it on speaker!"

"Woah Charlie, slow down!" I held the phone away from my ear, his voice a little too loud, and complied to his request, "I'm on my way home and and yes, she's with me. How'd you know?"

He chuckled, "I just know these things. Hey, Zoya."

She laughed, "What do you want, Charlie?"

"Are you two busy tonight?" He sounded so excited, like a child on the eve of his birthday. 

I shared a look with Zoya. 

"Actually," I sighed, "we have super important plans. We're having a movie marathon tonight and dates with Ben and Jerry, and it'd be terrible of us to stand them up. Sorry!"