The Fourth Letter

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January 2,

I wasn't going to write you a letter, I thought it would be best if I didn't think of you. I didn't want it to seem like I was obsessed. Like my life was meaningless without you. But your name, your image plagued my mind like it always does.

I had to clear my head. I went for a jog in a shirt and shorts. It was freezing cold, I could feel the frost creeping along every inch of skin, sinking into cracks and spreading out. I ran as fast as I could over the compact snow alongside the drained canal. My nose ran, and my lips grew chapped, but I wanted this. I wanted to feel pain and I guess feel like I was alive. I wanted to feel that I existed. That I wasn't a ghost that would eventually disappear.

When I got back to Dana's place, there was a tightness in my throat, the sort of feeling you get before you come down a cold. At that point, I didn't mind getting sick or dying.

I was helping Dana's brother with his homework on the floor of the living room when I overheard a muffled conversation between Ms. Williamson and someone on the phone. She asked, 'What's the hundred dollars charge for? I don't use data.' She paused then said, 'I want to speak to your manager. This is shoddy service and if I don't get this sorted out, I'll take my business elsewhere- no, listen to me. I'm giving you my money, I know what services I use on my own phone, alright? Get your boss on the line.'

There was no division between the kitchen and the living area, she turned her back on me. Matt dropped his head in my lap and grinned. He poked my nose, clearly unfocused. My chest hurt again, and I wanted to get out of there, fast. I told Matt we had done enough for now. And went to get my jacket. Matt followed me. He was like my shadow these days. He was always at my heels, grinning, swaying to his own inner rhythm. I liked him a lot. He was the little brother I had always wanted. I clapped his cheeks and squeezed his lips together.

He said, 'Where's we going?"

I said, 'You mean to say, 'Where are we going?''

He shrugged. 'Is whatever.'

I said, 'Is not whatever. Speak properly, little man.'

He grinned sheepishly and muttered, 'Is okay.'

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Matt and I walked along the partially shoveled path. Snow turned black, grey, pebbled at the edge of the streets. Townhouses surrounded us. The only trees were the skinny, leafless bodies on a miniscule patch of snow-covered grass. Inexpensive cars lined the street, some missing the tires they needed to drive. There was graffiti on most of the garage doors and the sound of cussing  arose from some distant place. Matt's head bopped at my side, I pulled his hood up and took his hand in mine. We were walking pass an alley when I noticed a discarded guitar next to a stinking pile of garbage. I picked it up- it was missing few strings, it was unnamed and looked like it had been handmade. It was sturdy and had a decent varnish.

Matt reached for it. 'Let me,' he said.

'I have to clean it first,' I told him.

'Let me hold it!'

'No.'

He tried to stare me down but gave up and kicked the wall. I shook my head. Kids were so stubborn. What were we going to do if we ever had our own? God, that was a stupid question. I'm not sure you'd even want to talk to me after all this. You probably think I'm moody, unpredictable. Someone not worth your love or affection. Someone with too much shit on their plate. It's alright. Things are getting better. I'm getting better. I miss you, but I have gotten to the point where I realize that I don't have to be next to you all the time. I don't have to hold you all the time. I can be satisfied watching you from a distance. As long as you're happy, I'm happy for you.

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Late into the evening, Matt and I took the recently fixed guitar down to the mall. We stood by the waterfall outside, bathing in its blue lights. I held the guitar in a thin pair of gloves that barely did anything against the cold. I didn't know many songs on the guitar, but enough to make a decent catch and then ditch before security came. Matt clung to a pink cup, rocking back and forth on his heels, getting ready to do his task.

I calmed him down and waited for a small crowd to draw around us. The gathering spectators were tightly wrapped in their padded jackets and scarfs. I stood on the bench that encircled the waterfall and strummed a tune before singing along. My cute little worker went around gathering money from the audience with his angelic smile and puppy dog eyes. At the end of session, we made nearly a hundred dollars which was surprising. A lot of people patted me on the back and thanked me for my performance. One lady cried silent tears. I suppose I wasn't terrible given their reaction. If soccer flopped, I might have to give music a go.

Naturally, Matt wanted to use the money on toys and candy, and I gave him five dollars but kept the rest for his mom.

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It turned out that Matt had a crush on Stephanie who lived upstairs. She came over for dinner. She was eight years old, still having the bright, sunny look in her eyes before life's hardships took it away. She had a red afro and freckles around the tip of her nose. She talked so confidently about every and anything you'd think she was a teacher of all sorts of subjects. She even taught me a thing or two about pandas.

Matt pulled me away from his family and into the room he shared with his mom. He said, 'How does I get her to like me?"

I said, 'I'm not sure if she's into six year olds.'

He frowned. 'But I wants her to like me.'

I sighed and said, 'Well, girls like flowers.'

He said, 'What if she don't? I don't wants to look like an idiot.'

'Then she might like poetry.'

His shoulders slumped. 'I don't know no poem.'

He frowned again. I hated to see the guy so depressed, so I said, 'Be nice to her, be someone she can depend on.'

He twiddled his fingers and looked at me, eyes bright and hopeful. He said, 'Then she'll kiss me.' A sly grin.

I said, 'Let's take it slow, alright? Take her on a date first.'

Matt said, 'Think she likes Aladdin- the cartoon?'

I said, 'You'll have to ask her.'

He said, 'I like Aladdin.'

'I know.'

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