Day seven: Secrets

I have a secret.

One that, if discovered, would probably not end well for several people involved. At least, for the moment. The future…is uncertain.

I have all the letters that Helga Pataki wrote me. All three hundred and fifty-three…that I know of.

I thought she never wrote me. That she'd forgotten about me once I decided to remain in San Lorenzo with my parents.

Truth be told, I was hurt. We shared something special in the jungles, or at least I thought we had shared something. That, after everything that happened here between us, I expected her to at least write. I expected…something.

I didn't know what to expect actually, but I never expected her NOT to write me.

I'd given up.

I had been here almost fifteen months when a box showed up at one of our mail stops. We hadn't been to that particular mail stop in weeks so I actually have no idea when the box came. Only that it did.

The inside was full of envelopes. Hundreds of envelopes addressed and stamped.

To me.

On top of all the envelopes was a folded letter.

I'm not sure if this is still your address.

I was cleaning Helga's room and found this box.

She must have forgotten to send them.

Sorry for the delay.

M. Pataki

She had written me every day. Written, addressed, and even stamped envelopes. But never sent them.

Letters-

Talking about her day. About events around town. About things that happened at school. But mostly about me. Or rather how she felt about me.

Each letter had pages-none less than three full pages' front and back. The most was a fourteen-page letter, front and back.

Things she never meant for me to know.

Through these letters I discovered the real Helga G. Pataki. The one I knew all along was inside her. The real Helga she never let anyone see. It was terrifying and exhilarating.

For anyone else, this amount of raw honesty would've scared them away, made them thankful that they were on another continent.

For me…I'm intrigued. I love this version of Helga nobody has ever seen. It's like a secret only she and I share now.

Her mother accidentally sent me something I never should have seen.

It's a gift.

Now I'm counting down the days until we return to the States.

I need to talk to her.

I need her to understand.

She haunts my dreams- our reunion haunts my dreams.

Only two hundred and three days left.

Until then, I can only continue writing her to make her remember that I'm still here.

That I feel the same way.