Yes, I am finally updating this story. Another chapter is written, and I'll be putting it up soon. And I know this story isn't moving at all, but in the next two chapters, things start happening. And thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Please keep them coming.
1It was finally morning.
I had felt like quite the preteen girl, sitting by the phone, and waiting for it to ring. Usually, the thought of not being more mature than a twelve year old would have sobered me from whatever offensive act I was commiting, but I was unable to care. When it came to Jude, normal rules didn't apply.
The clock on the wall told me that it was seven-thirty, soon, the rest of the house would wake up, and logic dictated that I should probably go to my room if I wanted anyone to believe that I had gotten any sleep. Somehow, though, logic was not quite so appealing.
The folder to my right had been holding my attention for the last few hours. The letters inside were half from Jude (forwarded by Kwest) and half to Jude from me, those letters obviously never sent. I told myself that when I could get the phrasing just right, I'd write her back. But the words always came out sounding either too casual or too longing.
Some of the letters weren't even full ones– most had one or two paragraphs before I had abandoned them, Some had barely a sentence. And still others read only "Dear Jude" at the top before I had decided that something about how I had written her name was not quite right. That I was somehow not doing it justice. All the abandoned letters stayed in the left flat of the folder, serving to remind me what a complete idiot I could be.
Then there were the letters she had written me; all different, and yet all equally perfect because she had written them. I had always marveled at how eloquently she could express herself to only be a teenager, it was a gift she had no matter how she was feeling. And me, well– Past a certain point, I didn't know what the hell to say anymore.
It took me a while to notice someone lingering in my shadow. I turned to see Sophie standing behind me, making no secret of the fact that she was trying to read the letter over my shoulder. Thank god she's only six, and can't read yet.
"Who's Jude?" Spoke too soon. Damn.
"Jude is..." Is? Was? She wasn't dead, but she wasn't in my life anymore, either. And yes, that was my fault. "...One of my friends."
Hallelujah for the goddamn understatement of the freaking year! Jude and I, just friends? That's a laugh. We were so much more, and still, at times, so much less than that.
"You don't talk to her anymore?"
How was it that a little girl knew exactly what buttons to push on me? Give that girl a metal. If she doesn't become some kind of ostracized prophet, she might have the misfortune of becoming a songwriter.
"Not as much as I'd like to." Or at all. That's more accurate.
Sophie started to open her mouth to ask another question, but I silenced her by speaking over her. Last thing I needed to do was spill my guts to a first- grader, which I would probably end up doing if this conversation didn't stop now.
"I've written something new, Soph. A song. Would you like to hear?"
I took her smile to mean yes, and within seconds the intriguing question of who Jude was ceased to exist in Sophie's mind. As I began to sing to her, I realized that I was only devoting half of myself to the music. The other half of me was concentrating on the still opened green folder in my lap.
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