Bellam Springs standard. Most days are windy. A big tumbleweed bounces across the park, gets stuck on a silver slide.
My stomach grumbles and I head toward the kitchen. Taped to the small white refrigerator is a piece of paper.
Hungry? Try the strawberries. They’re delicious.
I open the fridge and see them sitting in a ceramic bowl. Next to it is a smaller bowl of what looks like chocolate sauce. Underneath is the chocolate soufflé.
The guilt in my chest grows bigger.
“You’re such an idiot.” I grab a strawberry and pop it in my mouth. It is delicious. I get a bottle of water and open it. Chug half of it down. Place it on the counter and go to the bathroom.
It dawns on me his apartment is big, especially for the poor son of a dirty cop. Douchebag Stuart’s words, but there’s a glimmer of truth to them.
Three bedrooms, two full bathrooms and no roommates. How can Kyle afford this? Why isn’t he living with his dad? This is his hometown. It would make sense. And even if he wanted a place of his own, why wouldn’t he have roommates?
I flip on the bathroom light. It’s nice. Thick forest green towels hang on the rack next to a glass shower. Inside are the necessities. Shampoo. Soap. Body wash. A razor. It’s pink, and I wonder if he put those there for me or if they’re standard for all female guests.
When I finish peeing, I wash my hands and go into the spare bedroom. The secret room. The room I thought would be filled with all manner of kinkiness. Turns out Kyle isn’t kinky—not really. He’s wonderful.
I’m practically drowning in guilt.
The feather and the blindfold are sitting on the bed, laying there in all of their black glory as though they’ve been shunned, have died, and are displayed for mourning. I can’t help but sigh.
The vodka is gone, probably put away. My clothes are folded and on the bed as well. I quickly pull them on, and debate whether I should leave, but then I remember the piano room.
I want to play, lose myself in the music for a little while. The room smells like old paper, and Kyle. A heady combination. I sit at the bench and run through a few exercises. Limbering up my fingers. While I’m playing I allow my mind to wander. To think about my life and the way everything is topsy-turvy.
I think about Gina. My aunt and uncle. The reasons behind why my aunt forced me to stay away from Kyle.
After thirty minutes of playing, I stand. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off the closet. I have to know what’s inside. I open it and my nose is pummeled with dust. Crate after crate is filled with old books, yellowing music, and one is loaded with piles of sealed envelopes.
That’s different. I pull the crate closer and peer inside.
My breath hitches in my throat. They are letters. Addressed to me. I pull out a few from a stack of hundreds. They all have my aunt and uncle’s address on them. They all say, in bold letters, RETURN TO SENDER. None of them are open. All of them are from Kyle.
The most recent letter has a date of three months ago.
He never stopped trying! He never gave up! The thought causes my heart to pound. These are Kyle’s words. Written to me. For me. An electric current rocks my body to its core. I have to know what’s inside.
I pick up the crate, thinking I’ll just carry it back to my dorm. But what if Kyle saw me? The crate is too conspicuous. I search frantically for a bag, something. Anything. I run into the kitchen and throw open cupboards. I spot bowls, plates, cups, wine glasses. Cereal, boxes of macaroni and cheese. Bread, peanut butter and jelly. But no bags. Finally I spot a wadded up grocery bag on the floor near the trash can.
“Yes,” I cheer eagerly.
I shove all the letters inside. Seven years' worth. The sheer number is overwhelming. When I leave his apartment, I lock the door like he said, and turn the handle just to make sure. It’s at that exact moment that I consider the consequences of my actions.
Sooner or later he’ll find the empty crate I hastily stuffed back in the closet. And when he does, what will he do?
“I’m an idiot,” I say, slamming my head against his door.
“Hey, you alright?” Kyle’s cousin Evan is looking at