Jessica Hayles
December 28, 2020 8:41 PM
Reaching out (Felipe and Leonor) by Jessica Hayles
The first thing Jessica noticed, upon waking up, was that at least half her muscles felt as if they had been twisted and kept in those positions all night: there was a steady ache throughout her whole body, dull but persistent. She stretched luxuriantly, smiling at her ceiling even as she groaned from moving the muscles.The night before, her parents had agreed that she could go to the company Christmas ball. She had come home tired in her bones, and had been that tired for at least two hours before she had gotten home, but she still wished the evening had never had to end. She had been surrounded by beauty. She had been beautiful. She had belonged.
There was nothing like that in the world, she thought. She would receive an email from the event photographer tomorrow and would print some pictures off, but she knew they wouldn’t even compare to her memory of the events, which she would go over a million times in her head: the lights, the smiles, music, flowers, warmth….
Her arms, she noticed, had wrapped themselves around her shoulders. It just made her smile more, before she reached out to snap on the strands of glowing white Christmas lights worked into a frosted green garland around her window. As if she had also, in the same action, flipped a switch in her brain, she then sat up, pushed herself onto her feet, and tottered over to her desk.
Dear Felipe, she wrote.
Merry Christmas! Forgive me for writing in English, I want to make sure I get what I’m trying to say right.
Last night I went to the company Christmas ball, and I had such a wonderful time. I’ve always wondered, though, why I liked these things so well, when you know I’m not exactly…great with people. I think it made sense tonight. Part of it is just that everything is so beautiful at Christmas – I don’t think there’s anything wrong with feeling something so much about a beautiful place, do you? It’s the same way I remember feeling when I’ve looked at the bell tower at school at sunset, or when you showed me that spot on your land – I think that was the first time I ever felt like maybe there could be a place for me in the magical world. And part of it is that – I love something that’s beautiful, and it’s a place I belong. It’s hard to express – but I’ll try.
At events like this, I’m part of something – my family, the company. I’m important, there’s a reason for me to be there, but I’m not alone. It’s not all just up to me, if I do it all right…it’s beautiful, and everyone just accepts that I have a right to be there. I don’t have to try so hard, I just…am.
I worry that you don’t have a place like that. I hope I don’t offend you by saying so – and I hope I’m wrong! But if I’m right, then I hope that this new year we’re about to start is the one where you can find it – people and places where you know you’re completely accepted, exactly, just exactly, just exactly as you are, and for who you are, without having to try so hard. You’re good enough for that – I think we both are.
Merry Christmas, and happy New Year,
Love from Jessica.
In the same envelope, before she could think the better of it, she stuffed another page, this one with verses on it:
Light, shine, through space and time,
From cosmic fires to an eye of mine –
The coal-black sky does not feed the spark,
The blaze turned sequin against the dark,
Each thinking itself alone,
But those on whom each light is shone
Look up, see them all arranged in filigree
Glittering into infinity
Beneath it, in her regular hand and a different color of ink, she added, just a rough draft – very rough – but it can’t help that it’s just a draft now – and you can’t write something good without starting with something like this. So there’s nothing wrong with this either - it is what it is, it will be what it will be.
Once that was folded up and tucked away, she expected that she was done, which made it a surprise when her hands kept moving, taking out another piece of paper and smoothing it over her writing surface as though she had planned to write another letter all alone. For a moment, she only looked at it blankly – then realized what she had unconsciously thought to do – and then hesitated again, biting her lip and turning her E95 between her fingers as she debated the wisdom of the matter.
Finally, though – all without conscious thought, ust a nod to herself, as though she had been following some articulate line of thought – she put gold nib to plush paper again, this time writing all in Spanish.
Dear Leonor,
It seems like such a long time since we’ve really talked – which is at least some my fault. Not going to lie – you’ve done some stuff, over the last year, that’s made me really angry. I didn’t even know how to deal with it without maybe making a scene, and making things worse – but I don’t forget that when I screwed up, you were the one who was at least willing to hear what I had to say, and how things had looked from where I was. So if you ever need someone to try to hear you out, I’ll do my best to return the favor.
Merry Christmas,
Jessica
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Jessica Hayles
Reaching out (Felipe and Leonor)
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Felipe De Matteo
December 28, 2020 10:27 PM
Feliz navidad by Felipe De Matteo
Felipe had really considered not replying. Leonor said she wasn't going to and he didn't really blame her but it didn't seem like he could ignore his friend's letter without it being odd. Part of the problem, of course, was the content of the letter itself. Talking about belonging, talking about feelings . . . that wasn't comfortable ever, but a holiday break at home with his family? With Leonor? Belonging was the last thing on his mind, even if it was painfully obvious exactly how much he did not belong here. Perhaps because it was so painfully obvious. Taking to his room one night after he'd received it though, Felipe retrieved a quill and set about replying, copying her in English (and thanking Merlin he was fluent in it) as well as in style to some extent.Dear Jessica,
Merry Christmas to you as well! Feeling alone in the middle of the familiar is something we have discussed before and I am glad you were spared that experience this break. It sounds like you had a very Christmasy celebration.
If there was a drop of ink on the page, if the next words came a little more slowly, with thicker ink betraying his hesitation, who could blame him? If he'd paused too long and left little marks where his clammy fingers had stuck to the top of the page, who could blame him? He pressed on.
I have found that sometimes it is best not to belong. I, too, hope I find somewhere where that's not true soon.
Cariños,
Felipe
P.S. Drafts, I think, are the most poetic. Yours is beautiful.
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Felipe De Matteo
Feliz navidad
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