Dear Jadelyn,
I'll call you that because I figure it doesn't matter because you're not here to hit me or anything, it's not like you're ever going to find out about…this, so I guess I have nothing to fear, which is a change. To be honest, I'm sitting here and I keep turning around to check if you're there, glaring at me. I can imagine your face, if you saw me call you by your full name. Your nose would scrunch up and your eyes would narrow at me, and you'd purse your lips a little, disapprovingly. Also, did you know when you get angry, your irises darken a little? They become more green, a sea turquoise, ice cold and shocking. It's enough to scare any grown men, so you can imagine how it works on me. And the you'd probably call me Robert, and say something witty about my my imminent death by that of a pointy object, or something. Now I'm convinced you're in the room. So, Jadelyn. I don't know why you hate your name so much. I think it suits you. Original, different, a breath of fresh air, just like you. Beautiful. It sounds like so pretty when I say it, with a hint of steel to the end, just to stay true to you. It fits you perfectly. I don't say it often, and never when you're around. I can't work out if it's a good thing just yet.
I've been thinking lately, yes I know, I can hear you saying 'Careful Shapiro, you'll give yourself a headache' with that little smirk on your face and that glint in your eye, and you'd be exactly right. Headaches, my brain feels like it's folding in on itself sometimes, and I don't know what to do about, so instead I thought about how nobody writes letters anymore, and that maybe they should, you know sitting at a desk, with a pen and how it's kind of a lost art, and it's terrible no one is writing them anymore, and then my thoughts came right back to you, which is no surprise. So here I go, these will be letters, and they will be to you, but I hope to everything above me you never ever find them, because I don't want you to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Till next time,
Robbie.
/
Dear Jadelyn,
I was kinda vague in my last letter wasn't I? I read it back and it didn't make much sense, but to be honest this whole thing does't make much sense. Believe me, I've tried to find the logic in it, and my conclusion is that there is none. Whatsoever. This whole things is a warped way to my death, I'm sure of it. And you never leave me very coherent either. So in a way, I could blame you for it, but I can't find it in me to place any on you at all. You didn't ask for this, and neither did I, so I guess all I've got to question is whoever is up there playing this little game of….fate? I bet they're laughing at me. I don't know. I should't be writing this. Miss Stevens is looking at me, she thinks I'm doing the biology worksheets, but I did them half an hour ago. I mean, who doesn't know how to label a upper palisade leaf cell? Apparently half this class….but I digress.
You're sitting in front of me, and if I stop scribbling this letter and reach forward a little I could probably touch your shoulder, which I'm not going to do. You're engrossed in your work I think, your head is bent forward and your hair is curtaining your face and tumbling down your back, shiny and black. It's green highlights this month. They're my favourite. That or the blue streaks- they bring out the flecks of colour in your eyes when I'm looking at you but pretending I'm not. That happens a lot. You just shifted in your seat and your hair fell to the side so I can see your back and today you're wearing a black lacy shirt, slightly see through at the back and all I can see is your soft skin, right in front of me. I want to touch it. That happens a lot too, me wanting to touch you. (Oh God that sounds much more dirty than I mean it to)
I think that's how it started you know? You've always been pretty Jade, but I swear it was like one day you were this cute (but oh so scary) girl with mousy brown hair, and the next you were this woman with hair like the night time and curves and legs that never end, eyes that sparkled and that was it, I was never going back. God, you're attractive Jade. Every time I see you you take me aback with your….beauty. Wonder why I can never get a whole sentence out in front of you? Well, it's not because I'm absolutely terrified (a little bit) but mostly because I'm struggling to speak through the fog that descends over my mind whenever you're near me.
You just turned round and asked for (demanded) a pen because your one had 'died the chizz out'. I handed you one, scrambling in my pocket. You noticed the sheets of paper in front of me and asked what I was doing, writing a diary? I think I squeaked in reply, that's all. You see what you do to me? I'm pretty sure my cheeks were the colour of stop signs. Anyway, these sheets are crumpled now because I shoved them in the bag so you wouldn't see them. I really hope you didn't see your name, you leaned pretty far over before I snatched them out of the way. I don't know why I'm talking to you like you'll see these, ever. I don't have the balls.
When you leant forward I could see the cleavage of your breasts, just below my eye-line. I think I nearly died.
That's it, you are never seeing these.
Regards, (?)
Robbie.
/
Dear Jadelyn,
I'm sitting in the Janitor's Closet writing this one. I seem to find myself writing these more and more often these days. Maybe they're my version of therapy. I've been told I need it enough times. They seem to help anyway. I know that Tori knows I'm in here. She thinks I'm upset because Cat's got a new boyfriend and was all over him at lunch today, giggling and grabbing his bicep and running her hands through his hair. To be honest though, I can't even remember his name. My crush on Cat died out ages ago, she's this bright little thing that captures your attention for a while as it dazzles and hypnotises you. Cat's sweetness and ditziness and cuteness held me spell bound for a while for sure. I can remember you teasing me about it, telling me to grow some and ask her out. By the time I actually did though, the spell was wearing off. It's like you look at a diamond and after a while the sparkle loses its effect, it's not so striking anymore. That was Cat. She's still the sweetest girl I now, and bless her she's got a heart of gold, but she's a friend and nothing more. So I grew some, Jade, but it kinda backfired.
You, however, you're like the embers of fire, glowing, but not over powering, not yet likely to fade, dark around the edges but bright bright bright at the centre, white hot and scalding. This (crush?) isn't going away, Jade, much to my chagrin. Or yours, if you knew about it.
Tori's hovering by the door still, debating whether to come in or not. I can hear Andre calling her, so she'll probably leave. She knows I'm a private person, and I don't want to lie about being upset about Cat to her either so I'm refusing eye contact through the door. You see it's easier to pretend to you and everybody else that I still like Cat. 'Cause that's the way it's meant to be, right? Me and Cat? 'Oh she'll come around soon enough, Rob, don't you worry.' Well what if I don't want her to? What if I want someone else? Judging by today looks like I never stood a chance anyway. And that's okay, really.
Tori's got the hint. She's left. Finally.
No, what really bothered me today was you. As per usual. To be precise Beck and you. Together. Kissing. In front of me. (please excuse holes in the paper here, the pen was sharper than I thought. And I was angrier.) Well, in front of everyone really. You looked sort of happy with him. I want you to be happy Jade, I really do. And Beck's my friend, and I know, I know, I know I shouldn't be feeling this way about my best friend's girlfriend. You're off limits, I get it, but I can't help it and it's making my head swim and I can't concentrate on anything else but the image of you kissing him with his arms around you.
And I wish they were mine. So I came in here. It's kind of nice to shut out the rest of the school like this, I understand why you used to come here so much.
I don't know how to sign this one off,
Robbie.
/
Dear Jadelyn,
I gave you a lift home. Your engine wasn't starting and Beck was in Canada and everyone else had already gone, so I was kinda your only option, but still. At least you didn't walk. You could've done. You flicked through my music collection and you picked out David Bowie. You pretended like you didn't like it, but I could tell you did. Every so often you'd hum under your breath and you'd smile a little. I thought I was going to crash the car. You're a distraction, Jade West. I'll try and recount our conversation, because `I remember most of it. It's something I like to go over in my mind, okay? It's my first experience of you. Not the Jade West, but just Jade, and I can't tell you how happy it made me, to feel like you were letting me in, if only a little bit. So I think it went a little like this-
'Where am I dropping you off?'
'My house, Shapiro. You think I have a secret lair I disappear off to, to do evil witchy things?' You snorted, playful sarcasm, instead of viciousness.
'I don't think you're a witch. I just wondered if you wanted dropping off at Beck's….or something. I know he's coming home tonight.'
'At like ridiculous o'clock in the evening. I'm not waiting in that freezing cold RV for him for hours. His parents don't let me in the house.' I wasn't surprised, honestly. You didn't seem bothered, but I wanted to know if you were seriously okay with that. Sometimes you seem okay, but you're not, Jade.
'Doesn't that hurt you?'
'No. His parents are dicks. They made him live outside for god's sake. They don't like me, and I don't like them, so we're even as far as I'm concerned. They don't have much to do with either of us,' You fell silent and I glanced at you. You were frowning, at nothing in particular, and I didn't know what to say. As usual.
'Oh.'
'It's whatever. Hey, this is my favourite David Bowie track!' You changed the subject quickly, but your eyes lit up and your humming got louder so I smiled at your enthusiasm. I waggled my eyebrows.
'I thought you didn't like David Bowie?'
You nudged me in the side with your elbow, in what I think you thought was a playful manner, but honestly dear god did it hurt, Jade! I can tell you now, because then I was trying not to wince and simultaneously keep the car on the right side of the road, and you know, not end up with us being part human, part pretzel. And dead.
'Shut up.'
The chorus started to fill the car and you smirked at me before letting yourself sing, tapping your fingers to the rhythm on the centre console, pointed black nails catching my eye.
'Rebel, rebel. put on your dress. Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess. Rebel, rebel how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so.'
You laughed at the end, and I swear I never thought I'd ever hear Jade West giggling, but you did. Your face split into a grin, and I laughed along with you, because it was just dang cute.
'So, not fan then, huh?'
'I like a couple of songs, that's all.'
'Right.'
You harrumphed at me, and kill me now if I didn't find that adorable and oh god what was I doing? What am I doing now for that fact? We swung into your road as the song came to a close and we both sat in silence until the last note dropped just staring at the stereo , a weird kind of peace settling between us, until it crackled on to the next track and you shifted in your seat and clicked the door open before turning to look at me.
'Thanks for the lift, Shapiro. It was nice, I guess.'
I stuttered, I can tell you that. My stupid little heart went flip flop because you were actually being friendly to me. Again. Twice in a space of a half hour.
'It's okay, now I know what cd to get your for christmas.' It was a joke, and a feeble one. You rolled your eyes at my efforts and shut the door. I watched you fish out your keys and let yourself in. When I pulled away I switched the cd back a track and turned it up, screaming the words as I drove along, thinking of your voice instead, singing softly next to me, your eyes shining. 'Hot tramp! I love you so!' So I'm sad, but you already know that. This is just further, previously unknown evidence, to back that statement up. Please add it to your repertoire.
I hope you enjoyed that trip down memory lane, Jade,
Robbie x
/
Dear Jadelyn,
I'm sorry for a lot of things. I'm sorry I'm such a dweeb not to tell you all this face to face, because everyone deserves to be told they're loved right? It's a nice feeling, warm and fuzzy inside, something like a blanket keeping you constantly happy, hugging your insides, your heart, instead of keeping you just warm, right? Or that's what I imagine. Anyway, I'm sorry I'm depriving you of that. I'm sorry about your father, who doesn't seem to accept the amazing striking young woman you've become, and doesn't appreciate or is blind to the talent that spills out of every action you do. He's mad, Jade, and if I could tell you one thing, it wouldn't even be to tell you….I like you, it would be to tell you that you don't need your father's approval to do the things you want, you don't need his support. I understand you want it, but you don't, won't ever need it. Because you're gifted.
I'm sorry that your mother is never home and is never around to talk to. I'm sorry that you feel you need to deal with all you problems alone. You have friends Jade, you need to open up your eyes and use them. Cat, Andre, even Tori would do anything for you. Me. I would do anything for you. I'm sorry that you feel you need to hide your feelings around us. I can tell when something's upsetting you Jade. I'm sure we all can, but you're so closed off that we're never sure if we're even allowed to help. I'm sorry about that too.
I'm sorry I've fallen in love with you, and that sooner or later I'm going to have to deal with it, and I'm sorry that you're going to have deal with me.
Yours apologetically,
Robbie x
/
Dear Jadelyn,
None of these letter are really making sense, are they? Just me rambling on, as per usual. I'm sorry I haven't written in a few weeks. Things have been….interesting. To say the least. So the month went like this.
Week 1. You and Beck were rocky. There was screaming in the hallways, fights on The Slap, days of stony silent treatment and to be honest the rest of us were absolutely freaking terrified we were gong to be caught in the middle of one of your yelling matches. Cat was fainting again, Tori was worrying herself silly- about you. Not Beck, but you. She just wanted you stop fighting and get on so you could be happy. Of course, you know what went on between you and Beck, but I bet you didn't know about Tori. I don't know, maybe you should cut her some slack.
Don't hit me.
Wait, this is a letter. That you are never going to read. I'm okay.
Week two was worse, if that's even possible. You spent time with me. I should be jumping for joy, right? But Jade, you were so obviously not with it, every thought lingering on him. Your smile never reached your eyes, you'd snap at anything, you'd rebuke any effort of kindness, and it was just like the fire inside of you had been snuffed out for a while. It killed me to see you like this Jade, I just wanted you to laugh and I wanted you to feel okay, and you weren't, but you were still with him, though you avoided him in the hallways, pulled us both into the closet just to stop him finding you. The two of us alone there in the dark with your mascara smudged eyes from where you'd been crying earlier but tried to conceal it. Your ruffled clothing and messy curls, and bright bright blue eyes trying to pretend you were fine.
'Don't try anything funny, Shapiro.' you'd said.
Nothing had been less funny in my life. But your joke, almost as feeble as my last one, hit home.
Did you know I wanted to kiss you then? Wanted to clear off your make-up and run my fingers through your hair, tell you that everything would put itself right, just to please please stop being sad because it was messing up more than one of us. I couldn't concentrate on anything more than kissing you in that moment. So, did you know? I've always suspected you were a mind-reader. You're far too good at guessing.
Week three and you were back in his arms and the fights were forgotten and it was kiss and kiss and kiss and make up. In front of me. Were they forgotten though? I heard the words you screamed at him, Jade, and can they really be taken back that lightly? I can see the cracks, Jade. Run before they split the path you're walking on.
Thoughtfully yours,
Robbie x
/
Dear Jadelyn,
I like that you drink stupid soda that tastes like liquid e numbers. I like that the only chocolate you eat is dark chocolate, 'to match my soul' I like that you refuse to wear purple, and that you refuse to watch 'shitty remakes of classic horror movies that shouldn't be touched with a barge pole but admired with fearful reverence for the rest of time', like Friday the 13th. I l like your sarcasm (when it's witty) and that you go for what you want and you get it by any means possible. I like you have the courage and perseverance to do this.
I like that your smiles mean so much because they're don't come often but when you do, you know it's real. I like the fact you don't take chizz from anyone. I like your voice, like velvet. A punk angel singing. I like your hair and it's perfect ringlets. I like your lips and the bow in the middle that makes me want to kiss you. I like your curves. Hell, I like your breasts. There, I said it. `i like they way your eyes dance when you've said something funny. I like your obsession with coffee and that you can't start a morning without it. I like that you smell of vanilla, probably from your favourite latte.
I like it when you let your armour down, or I manage to drill though and you stop being so guarded and you start having fun, you start letting me in. I like our stupid conversations, I like it when you make fun of me in them. I like just sitting and smiling next to you, now in our weekly drive home, when you catch a lift with me. I like looking forward to those days.
I hate that I can't do anything about liking these things. I hate that I don't want to do anything about liking these things. I hate that all together, they make me love you. I hate that I can't tell you. I hate that I won't tell you. I hate that you're happy with him. I hate that I can't stop loving you. Hate hate, love love. I hate that it's all so complicated.
Yours,
Robbie x
/
Dear Jadelyn,
Your mother was in hospital. She'd over-dosed. You got the call in my car. I turned the music down for you and watched as your face fell and you started frantically asking questions, stammering into the receiver. I didn't know what to do when you hung up and tried to fight the tears, screaming at me to drive to the hospital, for fuck's sake just to get you there, and stop looking at you like that, just drive the fucking car. The hospital Robbie, the hospital!
I pulled you over the centre console to my lap first and stroked your hair as you cried. Big heaving sobs, small fists clutching my shirt and white pale knuckles holding on. I'm so sorry Jade, I'm so so sorry I couldn't do more.
I drove you to the hospital, offered to come with you, but you ran out the car before you answered. So I drove home. I've called you, I've texted you, Jade. Just pick up the phone. I need to know if you're alright.
Please,
Robbie x
/
Dear Jadelyn,
It's three am, and I'm sitting in my room scribbling this all down in the dark, so sorry if any of it is illegible. You can blame yourself entirely. Maybe you won't even remember any of this tomorrow morning, but I have record of it now, maybe I'll show you one time.
It was twelve, and my sister was at a friends house, probably whispering about boys and eating candy. My mother was away on a business trip in New York. So that's why I was alone. I think you were a bit confused but that, although what could you have done if I wasn't alone? Not what you did next.
I nearly didn't answer the door. I thought it was burglars or murderers or something and I honestly thought about hiding under the bed or something stupid, but I recognized your voice yelling through the letter box. Of course.
You were drunk, that much was clear. Your eyes were hazy and your stance was off-balance, you were holding yourself up on my doorframe. Your eyes were wide and sparkling and a smile was playing on your lips. I almost slammed the door in your face, just to get my breath back. But I didn't.
Our conversation went like this, if you don't remember. I'm not very good with gauging how much drunk people forget.
'Jade?'
'S'up Rob?' You giggled. I got scared.
'Are you okay?'
"I'm just dandy. So's Mom. She got out of the hospital.' I grinned at you.
'Jade that's great!' You nodded.
'I wanted to tell Beck, but he wasn't in his RV when I got there. Why wasn't he in his RV, Robbie?' You looked at me, questioningly, as if I suddenly held the key to all your problems with Beck, because they was no doubt that was a loaded question. You wanted to know why he was never around for you, period. I bucked under the weight of it, taking a step back from your almost pleading look.
'I don't know, Jade.'
'It doesn't matter. I got a couple of drinks from my Mom's cabinet to celebrate anyway. Now I'm here. I don't know why, but I wanted to tell you too.' You paused to look up at me. 'Can I come in?' You didn't wait for me to say anything, just pushed past me and stormed into the lounge, collapsing on the couch.
'Are you sure you're okay Jade?' I wanted to give you coffee, something to sober you up, but there was none in the house.
"I'm fine.' Your words weren't slurred or anything so I stood awkwardly in front of you, unsure of how to handle you, in my house, to actually see me. Drunk or not. That part wasn't exactly part of the plan but still you were here, and that was all I could concentrate on. Jade West. In my house. Was this actually happening?
'Where's your family?'
'Out. They're-'
'Never mind, I don't care. Sit next to me.'
I complied hesitantly, sitting down gingerly and turning to face you. You took me by surprise, okay? I had no idea what you were doing when you leaned forward. I never expected you to do anything like that in real life. But you leant over and kissed me, hot lips that tasted faintly of vodka and coke, sweet and head spinning, delicate fingertips touching my face and a hand in the hair at the nape of my neck. Goosebumps. Then you pulled away.
'I just wanted to try it.'
My eyes were out of focus, my breaths catching in my throat.
'And?'
'I liked it. And I'm going to do it again.'
Your lips met mine again, this time open mouthed, sucking my bottom lip under, your rough tongue dancing in my mouth and I was plummeting to a point of no return because oh my god you were kissing me in my living room on my couch ad it was the best thing I'd ever experienced and my nerves were on fire. I pushed you down onto the couch and carried on kissing you, because I didn't ever want to stop, not now, not ever. You moaned underneath me and we were both gasping for air, both our tongues battling away, and I was dying, dying in your arms, Jade.
Until you pushed me off.
'Fuck.'
'Jade?'
'Shit, Beck.'
And it all came crashing down. I felt my heart drop to my chest. You still cared about him. I'd just cheated with my friend's girlfriend. I was a bad person.
What have we done, Jade? What does this make us? Where does it leave me? You ran out of my house a second later, sobered up by the thought of what we'd just done, no doubt, black hair flying out behind you as I watched you race away from my front door after trying to call you back, screaming into the night. But you were gone.
I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. So now I'm writing this. And I all I want is to kiss you again.
So what happens now. Jade? Maybe you can write me a letter, because I don't know. I really don't know.
Sill yours,
Robbie x
/
Dear Robbie,
You were right about the Jadelyn thing, as soon as you get home from work, expect me to hit you, hard. No one has ever called me that since I was eleven years old. Oh my God, don't you ever bring that back!
So, as you can probably tell, as you're not as dumb as I like to make out, I've found your little stack of letters to me from back in high school. A shoe box, Shapiro? Really? Most obvious hiding place ever.
I can't believe you never told me about them. Then and now. Robbie, honey, they're the sweetest thing I've ever read. I don't deserve you, not now, and certainly not when I was stupid and reckless and sixteen. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me Robbie, and now I can see you always were. I hope you still find me as attractive now as you did back then, seven years on. Hey, I got game haven't I? Dear God, you're rubbing off on me, Shapiro. I never used to say stuff like that.
If this was fate, then in fate I trust. It might have taken us a long time to get here, together, but it counts now. You'll walk through that door in five minutes with your stupid little afro still and i'm going to kiss you within a inch of your life. See, I still make fun of you. I hope you still like it.
You're a quiet person, Robbie, but you get me. You did back then too. I just didn't get myself, not enough to do what was right, what I needed. So, I'm sorry I never realised that until it was too late, and I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you when you were there. I'm sorry I'm so cold sometimes, and I'm sorry I don't say I love you enough, even though I mean it. I'm sorry it took me so long to work this thing out, and I'm sorry you have to deal with me, now. Because it just might be for forever.
As for you, I like the way you stroke my hair, like back to that day in the front seat of your car, I like your whispered words and the way you stammer when you get awkward, I l like your stupid hair, your obsession with old seventies musicians that you've still got to this day. I like the fact you don't drink coffee because it leaves more for me, and I like the fact that I can be sure, everyday, that you love me. I like the fact that you made your parents like me, instead of just giving up, and I like the way you say my name like it's the most precious thing in the world.
I like the way you think I don't know you're planning with your sister ways to propose to me. The ring is in the airing cupboard behind the stack of ugly purple towels we never use. I know Shapiro, I'm not just good at guessing. I know. I hate that you might be disappointed it's no longer a surprise. But I'm not, because it means the same thing. And I want it so much, Robbie.
Thank you for caring back when I was a bitch. Thank you for holding me in the car.
You never wrote any letters after that night. After Beck and I broke up, for real this time. You never wrote any when we got together, when we moved in together. Why was that Robbie? Is it because you didn't need to anymore, because I was finally right there in front of you, for you to love for real? I hope so, Rob.
So this is my letter to you. Sorry, I didn't reply to the others. Might have helped if I saw them, though.
I love you, Robbie Shapiro. It took this time, but I'm never looking back.
All my love,
Jade
Ps. Rebel, Rebel is still my favourite Bowie track. You've played that album more times than I've watched The Scissoring, which is saying something, but I haven't changed my mind. Maybe I do like Bowie. Mock me, if you want, I have plenty of stuff to defend myself, as you so observed back when you were sixteen. You were a wise child, Robbie...