My Dearest Stanley,
When you read that first line, you'll think this letter is from your mom. It's not. That much is obvious. The handwriting is too forced and shaky for hers. The handwriting is mine. You know that. You're probably confused, wondering why someone who isn't related to you would write to you. Well here's the reason I'm writing to you. Because I love you. I'm not joking. Not in the slightest. Oh. It's me, by the way. Zero. In case you hadn't guessed. Moving swiftly on...
You stole my heart when I was five. Just a child. A little lonely child. Cold and wet and hungry. You must have found me about a month after my mother left. Such a short time. I know that may sound silly but to me it is short. I waited at that park for nine years so a month is no time at all, really. In perspective.
I remember you. How could I forget? You've been locked inside my memory for longer than I care to say. You were six then. I know because you were still wearing that badge that you got on a card when you were six. The blue and yellow one that flashed? You remember that. But you don't remember me.
It was late October the first time we met. It was beginning to get cold and every night I prayed that my mom would come back. I prayed she'd take me home. But where home was I cannot recall. Though that is another story for another time and we should return to the one I was telling. Late October, possibly early Novemeber. Early morning. The watery sun was peeping over the grey white clouds, begining to melt the frost which was beginning to set in, chilling the dew and giving everything an almost crystalline glow. That's when I saw you. Bundled up in green mittens, a matching scarf and hat and a big red coat. It made you look like a marshmallow. I hate to say it but the first time we met I envied you. I envied you with your warm clothes. Mine were in tatters. You were chubby too, especially around the cheeks, whilst mine were hollow and the bones stuck out, just slightly. Also, you had parents. Parents who loved you enough to make you happy. Laney Park was your favourite place in the world for a short time, you told me yourself. Maybe it was because of me. Unlikely though. Your parents loved you and treasured you, little Stanley, their only child. No one loved me. No one treasured me. No one cared.
Except you. They say there is always an exception to the rule. In all truth, you are not that exception. You are the one who breaks that rule. In my short and miserable life, you are the only person who has loved me with all their heart and soul. For that I am thankful. I am so thankful for you Stanley. For you have saved me.
I should have thought nothing of you. You were just another child, coming to play. You weren't offering me food or warmth or shelter. You were just playing at the park, like a normal child. You came closer to my tunnel though. I had heard the rumors of the monster living in the tunnel next to the swinging bridge. Closer and closer you toddled, on short little legs padded with extra layers of clothes, no doubt by your mother. I shrunk back against the cold plastic in fear that you would see me. The monster. But I wasn't a monster and you would have wanted me to play with you. Your mother would come over to see you playing with the homeless child who lived in the park. Men in big coats would come and take me away. Away from the park. Away from my mother. Away from you.
Unfortunatley, you didn't see me. I say unfortunatley because all those things I said before would have happened. But it's not unfortunate. I wish you had seen me. I wish you had seen me as I saw you. I wish you had fallen in love with me as I did. As a child. Our innocence was overpowering.
It was your eyes. They made me fall first. I love your eyes. I love the shape and the colour. Their bright but warm hazel. I have yet to see eyes like them.
Then it was your face. Your chubby cheeks red with cold and small, straight nose. A few whispy curls escaped from your cap. I fell in love with those too. They seemed so soft, so silky. I wanted to reach out and stroke them.
It could have been an hour. It could have been a day. It was more likely a minute, possibly two. I fell hard and fast for you Stanley Yelnats. In a few seconds, you stole my heart. And then you broke it. You turned and toddled back to your parents without a second glance at me. I was just a shadow. Never there. A whisper on the breeze. A Zero.
After you left that day, I stopped looking for my mother. Many a time, I tried to convince myself I was still waiting for my mom. She would just step out of the shadows and whisk me up in her arms. But instead of a reality, she became more like a hero in a novel. A shining beacon of hope. But not real. She never came back. I looked for you instead because I knew you were real and I knew you would come back.
So I waited and waited and waited. Nine long years of solid waiting. All my life seems to be is waiting. Still, it's paid off but I will never forget those long cold nights, alone in the dark with nothing to keep me company but a stuffed giraffe and a heart full of broken dreams.
I started going to the homeless shelter. But only when the weather was bad. I had to find someone to pretend to be my mother. If I turned up without one, they would have made me a ward of the state. Back then, I didn't know what one was, but it didn't sound good. Women were hesitant to be my 'mother'. Maybe they were already tired and cold and hungry. They didn't want to lie any more; they just wanted to sleep. I understood how they felt.
That day I stole Clyde Livingstone's shoes was the worst of my life. Police sirens scare me. That's why I ran. That's why I left the shoes on the parked car. I ran so fast and so far I couldn't find my way back home. I was so scared. I was scared they would find me and take me away and I'd never see you again. And that's what they did, the next day. After a whole day and night of walking, my already pinching shoes made my feet bleed. So I walked into a PayLess, dripping wet from a rain so heavy it could have been a tropical storm. My insides ached with hunger but I looked for shoes. Mom taught me to take only what I needed. And I needed shoes. After that, it's a blur. There were men and shouts and more terrifying sirens. I guess they handcuffed me and questioned me. All I remember is my feet still hurt from my too tight shoes.
The bus ride to camp gave me a long time to think. I thought about the shoes. I thought about my mother. I thought about you. Time passed in silence. A whole 8 hours, pure silence. Silence can be so comforting. It has depth and compassion. If you try hard enough, it is always there. Solid. Dependable. A bit like you. The driver didn't even put on the radio. I'm glad he didn't; I needed to think. At 2:00 am in the morning on Saturday 23rd May I arrived at Camp Greenlake. They allowed me to sleep on one of the sofas in the Wreck Room. But I didn't sleep. Instead, I cried. This was one of two times I have cried myself to sleep at Camp Green Lake. If anyone heard me in the night, they would have thought I cried tears of sadness, loneliness and anger. True, my eyes welled with tears of sorrow and my heart ached with the knowledge that the world was so big and I was so small. Hatred of myself caused me to cry harder. But truly I cried bitter tears that night of longing. I knew I had missed you. I would never see you again. For the millionth time in my life, my heart smashed into tiny shards.
Questions are stupid. Stupid questions are even more stuid. I know that doesn't make any sense but that's the way I think. Why do people ask questions? You can never truly be sure if the answer is true or not. People lie. When Pendanski asked me my name, I could have said I was called Charlie Higson. Pendanski would have believed me. Instead, I didn't say my name. I didn't say anything. Suddenly, silence wasn't comforting and compassionate. It was aggressive and angry. Everyone said I was stupid. They said I was a retard. But I'm not stupid. I just don't like answering stupid questions. Reading this paragraph back, I realise I'm a hypocrite.
Everything got better when you came to camp. It was strange, really. When you walked into D Tent, I remembered you. Instantly. Your wispy, curly hair and small, straight nose. You were still chubby, especially around the cheeks. Once again, your beautiful warm hazel eyes captivated me. I stared into them, willing you to remember that cold late October morning. Just a glance in my direction was all I needed. Pendanski teased me, ruffling my hair. You watched. My eyes went wide and desperate and I fought to keep a mask of blankness on. There was a spark, a flash in your eyes when you saw me. Heart thudding in my ears, I thought you had remembered. But you walked away from me again. You didn't toddle adorably anymore, strong proud strides replacing the baby steps. Turning so my back was to you and all the other boys, I silently cried myself to sleep that night. For the second time. Because you didn't know me. You didn't love me. You didn't wait.
When I look at you, everything hurts. My heart aches with longing and sometimes I can feel the tears I've cried spring into my eyes. It hurts to know you don't feel for me the way I feel for you. All I can see is your beauty. Guilt wells in my chest, knowing I sent you to this god forsaken place. If I could turn back time, I would never ever put the shoes on the car. I'd never let them fall onto your head. You would have never come here. We would have never met. At least, you would have never met me. And for now, that would be enough. My life would hold no meaning and I'd spend my life waiting for someone who would never come but it would be enough.
Stanley Yelnats, I love you. I have since you stole my heart as a child. I always will. But I will wait forever for you. Even if you never grow to love me as I love you, I will still wait. Wherever you go. Whatever you do. I will be right here waiting for you. Whatever it takes or how my heart breaks, I will always truly belong to you. My heart is, and always be, your plaything.
Truly, Madly, Deeply Always Yours,
Hector Zeroni