Love, Charlotte

Note: Written for ultraviolet's GOYLBAWS Contest 2: Remember Me



Hi, Max.

Yeah, I know this seems impossible. That you’re thinking, “How can I get a letter from you?”

Well, here’s your answer, Max.

You see, Heaven is real – clouds, angels, and a white-bearded man to match. Shocker, right?

Just kidding. I’m not telling you anything. You have to wait your turn.

But you know what, Max? I didn’t get to wait my turn.

Have you ever been down Everest Road? Out in the South Hills? It's just as steep and twice as icy. You take a little outing down that Rabbit Hole, Max, you aren't ever coming back.

It’s just about the most clichéd way to die on the planet, I think. Sucks for me, because I don’t think I have another chance.

So now I have a problem. I can moan on to you about how much boring it is to be dead, which wouldn’t be true, but would make me infinitely relieved of angst, or I could tell you the truth about this letter.

I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet, so I’ll start with something else.

You know how in school the teachers tell you it’s all about getting to a point in time – graduation, college, grad school, job? And how we all thought it was a load of BS?

They were right, Max. They were so right.

It’s about making it somewhere – getting to the next day, week, month, year in life – so that you can create your life. So you can paint the blank canvas of your existence with color.

This getting too heavy for you? I was never much of a poet, so I guess I can hand this to you straight. Making it somewhere in time…gives you the opportunity to live. Remember that old song we used to listen to, Max? The Smiths one? “To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die?” That one?

Yeah, I can tell you’re remembering it, with that quizzical smile on your face. Remember how we used to jump on my bed and shout to the ceiling, “There is a light that never goes out! There is a light that never goes out!”?

We were making those special moments. The ones that crowd up life in between the big milestones. So making it to those milestones just proves that you’re living. That you’re creating yourself.

I never made it to a lot of my milestones, Max.

You know I wanted to go sky-diving on my seventeenth birthday? I never told you. I wanted to surprise you. I was two weeks away from jumping into the sky when I disappeared from this life. That’s what I call a supremely cosmic knife stab, my friend.

You don’t lose your sense of humor when you’re dead, I find. In fact, I think it rather becomes more acute. A perk, I guess.

You want to hear another dream? Probably not. I don’t want this to be hard for you, Maxie.

I used to call you that, do you remember? I hope so.

I always wanted to write a novel, Max. I wanted to put all my sweat and blood into a great big book with a shiny cover and a bold title. I wanted to hold it in my hands and realize that I had created something amazing.

I’m going to settle for a letter, a broken, overemotional letter. It’s infinitely more special, though, because I’m writing it to you.

Oh, Max. I miss you. I miss the smell of the aftershave you always pretended you didn’t use. I miss the way you’d lean far, far over the boardwalk, just to stare at the sand and shells and seaweed. I miss the way you ate ice cream –slowly and carefully, swiping your tongue over the spoon to make sure you got the last bits. You probably didn’t know, but I thought about that tongue a lot.

Which brings us to the final milestone. My final desire was to tell you that I loved you, Max.

I suppose I’ve reached that one, but I wish I could have told you with a kiss instead of a letter full of hopeless wishes and bitter regrets.

I love you, you silly, wonderful boy. I wanted a life with you: graduation, apartment, kids, silver hair. I would have given a lot to reverse that snowy evening. To have the chance to love you.

So now I’m going to let it pour out, because this is the last chance I get. The last letter I’ll ever write. And I chose to write it to you, Max, so please read it. For old times’ sake?

I love the way you push your hair out of your eyes. I love the way you swing your little sister up in the air. I love how you shoved the bully who tried to tease me on the playground in kindergarten. I love the way you move your mouth when you talk –like it’s so full of things to say it will overflow. I did think about your lips a lot, Max. I’m only human.

I love you because you cuddled me when Grandma Nell died. I love you because you said, very seriously, that you would always be my friend, even when I started to wear mascara and bras. And most of all, I love you because you never asked anything of me.

Don’t cry, please, Max. Don’t ever feel guilty when you fall in love with another girl. Keep making your moments. Keep painting your life. All I wanted you to know is that you were my first love – and that you will always be my best friend. Understand?

I’m going to go now, Max. I don’t really know where. But it doesn’t matter, because I know you’re sitting on that old maple tree and thinking about me. Perhaps I’ll find some new milestones. Perhaps I’ll keep making special moments.

Just know this one right now is the best of them all.

All my love, Max,


Charlotte

Hey, Born here!

So you can paint the blank canvas of your existence with color.

LOVE it That is a really awesome way of putting it. Totally awesome

I died on an icy road, {take out comma} when a teenager crashed his Jeep into my poor little Volkswagen. It’s just about the most clichéd way to die on the planet, I think.

Although you are obviously trying to tell us why she is dead. You've really *told* us. As i've been told heaps and heaps of times, people get attached to your Characters more if you show us not tell. So instead of saying straight out that she died when a teenager crashed into her ... *Show* us this. And then we'll be able to feel for your MC more. Make sense? No? Take a look at this -- http://jerz.setonhill.edu/writing/creative/showing.htm -- and hopefully you might get it.

Keep writing!

I love it!

I'm naturally overly critical, but I read this from beginning to end without at all thinking 'don't do this' or 'that's wrong.' I loved the voice of your character too. So, here's the thinks I like.

-Bottletop memories: you've captured an entire lifetime in little statements like the reference to his aftershave and leaning over the boardwalk.
-Growing up: Linked to the above, I love how you've shown the transition from childhood to pre-adulthood in those little statements like 'even when I started to wear mascara and bras.'
-The witty, lighthearted tone that carries all the way through. Especially those funny phrases like 'You have to wait your turn.'

Soo, this is a critique, and I have to be critical... The ending gets a bit mushy. The talk about love is cute, but when you start talking about 'being with me in spirit' and that new adventure, it's a little too abstract and not as sharp as the rest of the piece.

Overall, this was very enjoyable to read, and I thank you for posting

My first review, so sorry if I'm doing this wrong... =P
First of all, I really enjoyed this. Your characters both sound really sweet and kind of quirky, and I like the reference to the Smith's song. I felt like it could use a little more showing and less telling, especially at the part where she's explaining how she died, but as it's written in as a letter, that might be a bit difficult. Still, I think that if you did, it could bring more emotion into the piece... Even a bit more description here and there could help.
You repeated Max's name a lot, and I personally find repetition irritating, but it's not a huge deal. Just something to think about.
All in all, really nice!

Hi! Thanks for the review!

I definitely agree with you about the Max-name-repeating, and that's something I can easily change. I also have to work on my showing-not-telling thing, because it's certainly one of my issues as a writer. I've been working on it, though.

Thanks for your advice! I appreciate it.

--Glim