Page 70 of Last Letters to Ara
Theo: No, but we can write whatever version of it that we want. Together.
His words feel like a promise. That if I decide to give him my heart, he will care for it. But that fear I know too well begins to roar. What if he is taken away, too? I wouldn’t recover.
So, I do what I do best and kill the mood.
Me: This conversation just got so deep that it’s tickling Earth’s core.
Theo: Deflecting. Again.
Me: GTG! Need to water my plants.
Theo: Your plants are fake.
Me: Need to feed my cat!
Theo: You don’t have a cat.
Me: My neighbor’s sisters’ second cousin needs a ride to Greece!
Theo: Goodnight, Ara.
I groan. I’m even disappointed with myself.
Four Years Ago - Ara
“IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT.Shouldn’t you be out with friends, getting drunk, so I can lecture you about being more responsible?”
Dad is always worrying that I’m missing out on things that normal people do at my age. “First of all, I’m not old enough to drink.”
Dad makes a face which tells me it never stopped him.
“Second of all, I don’t like anyone enough to go out with them. They’re too busy climbing social ladders that I couldn’t give two shits about.”
Dad nods, admitting it to be a fair point.
“Third of all, tomorrow is your birthday, and I want to bake you a cake.”
He grimaces. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”
“I’m following a recipe. How hard can it be?”
Very hard, as it turns out.
After a few spills, mixing ingredients out of sequence which I thought wouldn’t matter, and a fire alarm being set off, I run into Publix, making it insidejustbefore they close, with Dad waiting outside in the getaway car.
I hate to be that asshole who dashes in five minutes before closing, but I almost burned down our house and still don’t have a cake for Dad. By some miracle that can only be explained by fate, there is a pre-decorated cake, themed withIce Agecharacters, and it couldn’t be more perfect.
My greedy little hands latch onto it and run to the nearest checkout lane, getting glares from every staff member I pass.
I’m running, assholes. What else do you want from me?
Present - Ara
IT’S APRIL ANDtoday is Dad’s birthday.
The first of many that I’ll have to celebrate without him. I know that it’s going to suck regardless, so the least I can do is to celebrate properly for him, starting the day off exactly how he would want: getting the usual from the diner.
Pulling open the door, I already feel comforted by the smell of freshly baked biscuits and coffee, as I find my usual spot and take a seat at our booth. Dad wouldn’t want me eating at home by myself, and while I can’t stomach spending this day with anyone other than him, I needed to get out of the house.
