Letter's to Mel #LookingForAlaskaContest

Letter's to Mel

It's been a whole year since my best friend Melanie left. A whole freaking year! I promised her that once a year we would meet in the same spot. Right by the highway where she would always drive to work. I love this spot because it's exhilarating- cars drive too fast and too close. It is the perfect place for an on-demand adrenaline rush. This spot always makes me feel alive. Melanie hates it.

I sit in my car, pulled off to the side of the road. Sweat creeping down my back since I have no air conditioning in the ninety-degree Florida heat. But for Melanie, it's worth it. In my passenger seat, I have the most precious of packages- thirty- six letters that I wrote to her while she was gone. None of which I've opened.

I get out of my car, pull out my beach towel, and set it on the soft grass right next to her. Melanie does her usual silent greeting and I wave to her wildly. I'm ecstatic to see her. It's been too long.

I set the letters down on the blanket and take out my canteen, chug some water, and dump the rest on the flowers she has. Melanie doesn't say anything but I know she appreciates it.

My shaking fingers start working on the first letter. The most important one. When I rip it open, I set it down in front of her, take a deep breath, and read it aloud:

"Dear Mel,

I drove by your house today and thought of you. I remember our late nights of sneaking alcohol from your parents, going to IHOP at 2 am in only our bathrobes and that night we dyed our hair red (and accidentally dyed my hands too).

Honestly, I think about you every day. I think about that first party we went to where you made me play spin the bottle. I kissed you- you were the first girl I kissed. I know, it's a stupid memory but I always smile about it. Remember that one time we went skinny dipping? That was the first time you kissed me back- really kissed me. Every time I hear those annoying boy bands you like, I think of us. I think of how much I miss us and what a shitty friend I'd become towards the end. I'm sorry my depression had become so bad that I locked myself away. I have many regrets.

I love you,

Savy."

I'm sobbing and she's silent. I know if the circumstances were different, she'd be balling too but little white-crosses don't speak. Little white-crosses can't accept apologies, they can't forgive you for all the terrible decisions you've made, and they can't tell you their feelings. I'll never understand why the words 'drive safely' are always bigger than the victim's name or why the first girl I cared for will never know I loved her back.