I sit on the plain, dingy white bench under the willow tree, playing with the hole in my long, white dress. I know he will be here today, he comes every Tuesday. The stranger. We will exchange letters, I will read the one he gives to me, and I will burn it. If I just try to throw it away, mother will find it when she takes out the trash. I don't need that again. My palms were sweaty when I told her I was going to meet Jeremy today.
I broke up with him last month.
I remember when I first met the stranger, only three months ago. Well, I never met him face-to-face. He had just dropped the letter in my lap, and walked off. All I know is, he always wears a black hoodie with a silver, reflective dragon on the back. All I ever see is the back of him. I leave the letter behind me, and he picks it up, leaves his letter, and leaves. The first letter he had left me said:
Dear Sweet Anne,
I know you don't know me personally, but I know you. I've known you since you were born, before your mother could hold you in her weak arms. Her arms are still weak, aren't they? Last time I saw her was two years ago, and she needed help lifting the large bag of flour. I'm guessing you are the one who helps her, I've seen pictures. You look just like your dad. He is not a great man, never come into contact with him. I have promised to not let you see me, so write me a letter, and leave it behind you on this bench. Never look behind you, I could get in trouble.
Love, ______
He had just left a blank space where is name should be, which he always does in his letters. I wonder what he looks like. I wonder if I know him in real life. Is the stranger just messing with me? But he knows so much about me. It only took three letters to realize he knows more than what you can find on the internet. He knows things I have tried to forget about, things I regret, things I have no evidence of besides my memories.
Is it someone I know? Or is he really a stranger?
I hear the sound of gravel grating against each other come from behind me. He's coming. I know it's him, he always comes when the sun is at it's highest, at noon. The branches of the willow tree swirl and wave above me, dancing as I use all my willpower to not turn around and see his face. I can hear his breathing come closer, he always breathing very heavy when he arrives, like he walks a far distance to get here.
Somebody taps my shoulder. He has never done that before. Why did he do that? Does he want me to turn around? But I thought he would get in trouble if I saw him. Is it someone else?
I turn my head, my black hair blowing into my eyes. I brush it out of my face, and I see someone looking at me. His face is not pale, but not tan, somewhere in between. His eyes are brown and are only partially open, just like I have mine. He hands me a letter with a thin hand, and I take it from him.
Why is he letting me see him?
I open the letter, and before I start reading, he says "Read it out loud." He looks nervous, but he points to the letter with his hand. "I want to make sure I didn't forget anything."
I understand, I have a bad memory too, it's something that runs in the family. I clear my throat, and begin to read, clear and strong just like I do when I read my stories at school. "Dear Sweet Anne, I am sure you are tired of meeting this way. I guess by now, you have seen my face, as long as I have remembered that I am going to do that this time."
I look up from the letter, and I see him with a small smile that doesn't show any teeth. I smile just like that when I know something somebody else doesn't know. "Go ahead."
"I guess you have been wondering who I am. I also guess I could have just told you in person, but I'm sure I could barely spit it out if I tried. I know that one twin tends to have the same problems and fears that the other has, although I know it isn't the case with us, is it? In case you didn't catch that last part, I am your..." I trail off, not believing the words that come next.
The stranger looks up to me, his face shielded by the bright sun with his black hood. "Mom gave me up the day I was born, you know she never wanted two kids in the first place. She decided she would prefer to have you, probably because she never really liked boys."
It's true, mom never liked boys. She only used men to have a fun night every once in a while. "But why couldn't I s-"
"See my face? Because mom didn't want me around you, I was a bad influence back then. She said if you ever saw my face, she would report me to the police."
"Why would you need to be re-"
"That's something I'm trying to put behind me. The point is, I've changed. I figured that mom wouldn't be angry with me anymore."
Why would mom be angry with him? I guess that's something he's trying to put behind him, I better not ask. Still, I am curious. Why would he not tell me everything? I guess he isn't much for talking. I'm not either, not unless I'm reading something I wrote. The wind is picking up now, my hair flowing behind me like I'm underwater.
I don't know why, but I feel like I should do something besides sit here, but I don't know what to say. I pull him in for a hug, and hold him tighter than I have have held anyone before, putting my head behind his shoulder. He doesn't do anything at first, but after a few seconds, he wraps his arms gently around me. He doesn't hold tight, his shaking arms barley touch my back.
"I always wanted a brother." I whisper, and bite my lip. "And I'm not just saying that."
ns 18.68.41.179da2
