by Jodi Perry
I’m curious to know if she’s read the letter, but the fact that she’s not wearing the bracelet has me biting my tongue. No point setting myself up for more heartache.
Usually she avoids looking at me, but today her eyes follow my every move as I seat myself in the driver’s side, again leaving me to wonder what’s going on.
‘Which house did you live in?’ she asks as I back out of the driveway.
She read the letter.
Her words spark a ray of hope inside me. She could’ve asked her mother that question, but she saved it for me. It’s the first one she’s asked since she woke from her coma. It’s been as if there is a part of her that doesn’t want to remember, or be reminded. She has shut all of us down every time we have mentioned her past, but it seems today is the beginning of … something.
‘That one there,’ I say, leaning forward and pointing to the two-storey red-brick house next door. It pained me greatly when I had to sell it to pay for my father’s room at the nursing home, and I still get a sick feeling in my gut every time I see it. Some of my best, and my worst, moments happened in that house, but selling it was the only way to guarantee that my father would get the care he needed.
‘Do your parents still live there?’
I glance at her briefly before focusing back on the road. ‘No. No they don’t.’ I hope she’s satisfied with that answer because I don’t feel like elaborating. It’s too depressing. There was no happy ending for my family.
Looking out the passenger-side window, she studies the house as we pass. It still looks exactly the same as it did when I lived there. Does it seem familiar to her? ‘Did we go to the same school? Was it around here?’
‘Yes, and yes,’ I say as a smile forms on my face. ‘We can drive past on our way home if you like.’
‘I’d like that.’
I close my eyes briefly and chant a silent thank you. My letter has ignited something within her, I’m sure of it. That spark of hope is growing. I’m eager to write to her again. I’ve only just touched on the beauty we once were.
TEN
Braxton
‘Shit!’
I screw up another piece of paper. The first letter came easily—it made sense to start at the very beginning—but now that I know she’s actually going to read them, my approach has changed. I want to cram as much as I can into this one. There’s so much I yearn to say.
Resting my elbows on the desk in front of me, I bury my face in my hands. I can’t rush this.
With that in mind I put pen to paper. Her interest was piqued when we stopped off at the primary school we both attended. She even got out of the car and walked around the perimeter of the school. It’s odd yet sad to know she’s seeing these old, familiar things through fresh eyes.
LETTER TWO …
Dearest Jemma,
The seventeenth of March 1997 was a pinnacle time in our young lives. We’d been neighbours for over a year at this stage, and our friendship was growing stronger with each passing day.
The fact that I was a year older than you meant we were in different grades, and we never played together at school. I’d smile whenever we passed each other, though, because just seeing you made me happy.
In the playground, you hung around the girls in your grade, and I played with my mates. In the beginning I was scared to tell my friends about you. To them, any girl was a germ-infested no-go zone. You were never like that to me; from that very first day I found you different. You were funny, easy to get along with, and incredibly sweet.
Now that your mother knew I was home alone in the afternoons, she insisted that I stay at your house until my mum got back from work. I looked forward to that hour or so each day because you were all mine. You seemed just as happy to be around me.
In those moments I didn’t have to pretend not to like you, because I did. A lot. It would have been impossible for me not to. I was at an impressionable age, and to an eight-year-old boy reputation is everything.
Little did we know that year would be a game changer for us. One incident in the school playground changed everything. It was a moment that put my entire reputation on the line.
It was a Monday. I only remember that because I’d spent the entire Sunday with you and your parents at the beach. I was still on a high from it, and sought you out in the playground. On the down-low, of course.
I steered my mates around to the grassed area at the back of the school when the lunch bell sounded, because I knew that’s where you played elastics, or skipped rope with your friends. It was a risky move on my part, but a risk I was willing to take. I just needed a glimpse of you to get me through to the end of the day. It sounds silly when I say it like that, but that’s exactly how you made me feel … how you still make me feel.
When there was no sign of you, I started to worry. Call it a sixth sense, but I knew something was off. I didn’t hesitate to leave my friends to go in search of you. I looked high and low—the front playground, the library, I even checked the sick bay in the office in case you’d been hurt. But, nothing, and now I was getting desperate.
I ran back to your friends to ask them if they’d seen you. One of them said you’d gone back to the classroom because you’d forgotten to bring your lunch down to the playground, so I headed in that direction. I remember bounding up the stairs two at a time.
As soon as I hit the landing I heard you. You were crying. I called your name as I broke into a run. The moment you stepped out from behind the partition wall I was filled with a mixture of relief and confusion. It was the first time I’d ever seen you cry. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, placing my hands on your shoulders.
‘Larry … Larry Wilson.’ When you buried your face in my chest, I wrapped you in my arms. No other words were needed. ‘The Looter’ was what everyone called Larry Wilson behind his back. He was the school bully, and ruled the playground with his iron fist. He was in grade five, and although only ten, he was enormous. Even the sixth graders were frightened of him. He was notorious for preying on the weak and taking whatever he wanted. In this case, your lunch.
I’d never experienced anger like I did in that moment. I had no idea how, but Larry Wilson was going to pay for what he’d done to you.
Manoeuvring you over to the large bench seat by the wall, I sat you down. ‘Do you like ham, cheese and lettuce?’ I asked you.
‘Yes,’ you sniffled, wiping the tears from your face.
After unwrapping my sandwich, I passed half to you. You were lucky it was a Monday; my mum always bought meat from the deli on Sundays. It usually only lasted until midweek, so the rest of the days were boring old Vegemite.
Once we’d finished eating, I walked you back to your friends before going in search of The Looter. I was running on pure adrenaline. A clear-thinking Braxton wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of taking on the school giant, but that’s what seeing you upset did to me.
I briefly rethought my plan the moment I was standing in front of him. He was almost as wide as he was tall, and towered over me. But then I remembered your tear-stained face and that was enough to give me the courage to take him on.
I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath before I spoke. ‘Why did you steal Jemma’s lunch?’
He laughed and pushed me in the chest, making me stumble. ‘Get out of my face, loser,’ he’d growled, and something inside me snapped.
Lunging at him, I threw my arms around his waist, ramming my shoulder into his stomach. The adrenaline coursing through my veins made me feel invincible.
I heard the loud gasps from the other students when Larry landed on the muddy ground with a thud. I was now on top of him. A few kids started to chant—‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’—and it didn’t take long for a large crowd to gather.
My eyes briefly locked with his, and the anger I could see reflecting back at me only spurred me on further. He was probably going to eat me up just like he had your lunch, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
When he tried to
wriggle out from underneath I pulled him into a headlock, I was surprised by my own strength. ‘You like stealing food from little girls?’ I said as I reached for a handful of mud. The moment he opened his mouth to speak, I shoved the mud into his gob. The more he tried to protest, the more mud I managed to force into his mouth.
‘Get off me,’ he said in a muffled cry, as tears leaked from his eyes. He wasn’t so tough now.
‘Not until you swallow it.’
I’d never done anything so mean before, but he had this coming.
The crowd started to point and laugh as The Looter struggled to swallow the mud in his mouth. A part of me actually felt sorry for him, but the pain he had inflicted on the other students far outweighed what was happening to him in that moment. I always knew it would only be a matter of time before he pushed someone too far. I just never thought that someone would be me.
‘Hey, break this up.’ The teacher on playground duty grabbed hold of the back of my shirt, pulling me to my feet. ‘Go to the principal’s office immediately!’
I knew I was in big trouble, but it was worth it. To this day, I still remember the awe on people’s faces as I stood tall and walked away from the scene, ready to receive my punishment. For those few minutes, I felt like the king of the world.
Because this was a first offence for me, the school didn’t contact my parents. I did, however, receive lunchtime detention for the rest of the week. It was a small price to pay. After that day he never picked on you again.
I’ll never forget how I felt when I left the classroom after my first day of detention. I found you in the corridor just outside my lunchtime prison, sitting on the floor by the wall with your legs crossed. You looked so lost and sad.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked as I helped you to your feet.
‘It’s my fault you’re in trouble.’
‘No it’s not, Jem. You didn’t make him eat mud.’
‘Yes it is.’
‘Is that why you’re here?’
‘Yes. I started all of this, it’s only fair that I do the detention too.’ You took a step towards me, getting up on the tips of your toes to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. ‘I’ll never forget what you did for me.’
I’m pretty sure that’s the exact moment I fell in love with you. It was evident that you cared about me, and you have no idea how much I needed someone like you in my life. It was comforting to know that you had my back, just like I had yours.
We became inseparable after that day. I had only taken the risk to protect you, and had no idea I would come out the other end as the school legend. I would’ve done it again in a heartbeat for you, Jem. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
That day our bond was cemented in stone forever.
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
Just because she doesn’t remember our bond, doesn’t mean it’s not there. All those old feelings are buried somewhere deep inside her, I know it. You can’t love someone so completely one day, and feel nothing for them the next. It’s not possible. It’s just going to take time to coax those feelings back to the surface.
I read over the letter before folding it in half and sliding it into the envelope. Reaching for the tiny sandwich charm sitting on my desk, I lay it in the palm of my hand. I feel myself smiling as I think back to that day.
These letters were supposed to help Jem get back pieces of her past, but they’re helping me as well. She may be lost to me for now, but reliving all these precious memories I’ve made with her over the years will keep me going until I have her back.
ELEVEN
Braxton
The questions start the moment Jemma is seated in my car. ‘Did you really make Larry Wilson eat mud?’ Without even looking at her I can hear the amusement in her voice.
‘I did. He spent the rest of the day in the sick bay. Rumour has it he vomited on the principal’s shoes.’
‘Oh my god,’ she says, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle her giggle. Just hearing her laugh again makes me happier than I have felt in weeks.
‘Did he stop bullying after that?’
‘For a while,’ I say, glancing in her direction. ‘Old habits die hard, I guess. He left you alone, though, which was all that mattered to me.’
A sweet smile forms on her face as she looks over at me from the passenger seat. ‘Thank you for sticking up for me, and for sharing your sandwich.’
‘I’ll always be here for you, Jem, no matter what.’
I love that the letters are opening up a line of communication for us. I think in her own small way she’s starting to come to terms with what has happened. It may not be as fast as I’d like, but I hope these letters will help her to eventually get back to where she once was.
She goes quiet for a while, and I’m relieved when she finally speaks again. ‘Did we go to the beach much when we were kids?’
‘Yes,’ I answer as I steer the car into a parking spot at the rehab centre. ‘It was one of your favourite places to go. Your parents took us often when we were kids, and once we were old enough we’d go on our own. That’s why we built our house near the beach. You ran along the sand every morning.’
‘Really?’ she says, turning her head in my direction. When I see her brow furrow, I know she’s trying to remember.
As much as I would like to show her our place, I’m not sure if she’s ready for that. I can already see the tiny shift she’s made since I started writing her the letters, and I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardise her progress.
‘I can drive you past your favourite beach on the way home if you like. It’s not that far out of our way.’
‘I’d like that,’ she replies with a smile.
She reaches for the door handle. ‘Let me get that for you.’ Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I step out of the car.
Opening the passenger-side door, I extend my hand to her. She smiles up at me as her dainty fingers wrap around mine. Seeing her smile has always been my undoing. In this split second, everything seems perfect, just the way it used to be. So much so that I actually forget that things aren’t.
‘I love you, Jem,’ I say without thinking. They’re words that have come naturally for me—for us both—for so long.
I don’t even realise what I’ve said until her face drops, and she pulls her hand from mine. With just three little words I undo all the progress we’ve made over the past week.
‘Hey,’ Lucas says as he enters my office and takes the chair in front of me. ‘You okay, bro? You don’t seem yourself today.’
‘I haven’t been myself since Jemma’s accident,’ I reply dryly, slumping back in my chair.
‘I know. How are things going with you two?’
I shrug. ‘It’s all over the place. Every time we manage to make a bit of progress, something happens and we end up right back where we started.’
The air feels thick as I silently berate myself. Things had shifted dramatically after those three words. She withdrew back into herself and became cold and aloof.
‘You know what?’ Lucas says, slapping the palm of his hand down onto my desk, startling me from my thoughts.
‘What?’ My eyes move back to him.
‘We’re shutting shop early today. I’m taking you out for a few drinks, and if you’re lucky I might even buy you dinner.’
I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but going out is the last thing I want. ‘I can’t—’
He cuts me off before I get a chance to tell him how far behind I am. I’ve barely accomplished anything today.
‘No excuses.’ He looks down at his watch as he rises from his chair. ‘Finish up what you’re working on, we’re leaving in ten.’ I open my mouth to protest again, but he raises his hand to stop me. ‘Tonight’s happening, no ifs or buts. I miss my friend. Besides, we never got a chance to celebrate our big deal. We worked our arses off to land that contract.’
I ca
n’t argue with that. He’s right on all counts. ‘Okay.’
‘Good. You need this just as much as I do.’ He gives me a satisfied nod before he turns to leave.
‘Lucas,’ I say when he reaches the doorway. ‘Thank you.’
‘A bottle of your finest scotch, and two glasses,’ Lucas says to the bartender before gesturing for me to take a seat on one of the black leather stools that line the long white granite bar.
This is my first time here, so my eyes are everywhere. The floor-to-ceiling bright yellow splashback behind the bar, paired with the lines of the black boxed shelves that adorn the wall, is striking. The perfectly positioned down lights make it all pop.
My first thought is that Jem would love this place, and that I must bring her here. Then reality hits. I used to love watching her eyes light up when we walked into somewhere new. She would have a notepad at the ready so she could sketch or take down notes of things that caught her eye. She was so passionate about her work and everything to do with design.
‘How’d you find this place?’ I ask Lucas.
It’s a huge step up from where we usually go for drinks. It makes me wonder if he purposely avoided our usual haunt because of the memories it holds; or perhaps he chose this place because it’s more fitting for such a momentous celebration.
We’d dreamed of this moment for so long, and our hard work had finally paid off. Our relatively small architectural firm has suddenly been catapulted into the big time. It’s a shame that even now as I think of what this means for us, and for our company, the excitement is lost on me. The axis of my world is no longer aligned, and until that’s rectified everything is going to feel out of kilter.
‘One of our clients brought me here. It was when …’ He flicks his hand to dismiss whatever he was going to say. ‘Never mind.’ I know whatever it was it had something to do with Jemma. I don’t blame him for not wanting to go there tonight. It’s been hard on all of us.