Dear Olive

I found Olive’s reply letter on my front stoop the following morning. I picked it off the chilly cement and looked at the envelope. My full name (Charles E. Monroe) was written on the back in bold print.

The stationary was formal, like a wedding invitation. I wondered what she had to say to me. Would her words be angry or equally formal?

Dear Charles,
I read your letter last night. I realize that I have changed. I wish you realized that change can be a good thing.
I have improved both myself and my place in this world. I really think someday you might understand why. I know we had dreams of staying children forever, but I had to wake up and see the truth. I will miss you and our time in the sun.
Do you remember last summer, Charles? Think of the field by the river. Picture the long grass swaying under the bright blue sky. That is where the girl you loved is. She can stay with you forever - right there - in that memory.

Your friend,
Olive

I knew the breakup was my decision, but the reality of it still hit me like a blow to the chest. Olives letter made it clear that our relationship was over. She had resigned herself to being a fond memory and taken on the status of friend.

My hand tightened painfully around the keys I was holding. I was supposed to be on my way to school, but I knew then that I wasn’t going. I couldn’t bear to see her awful new face again and pretend like it didn’t matter.

Goddammit, it did matter.

We mattered.

I walked over to the truck sitting in the driveway. It was an old red Chevy that actually belonged to my Grandmother.(Or as I called her Nan) I got in the vehicle and placed Olive’s letter on the passenger seat.

I drove for over two hours to reach my destination and the traffic wasn’t even heavy. With the subway running more places then ever, the highway was rarely overcrowded. I was going someplace far away from the tall buildings and traffic lights.

The field Olive wrote about would be yellow and dead, but I needed to see it. I needed to remember the way she was. As I drove, I thought about our summer together.

We were only fifteen, but Olive swore that she was ready to be mine. She wrapped her long bare legs around me and I couldn’t deny way that she begged me to enter her body. We both lost our virginity in the long grass under a scorching July sun.

No one saw us but the birds and the wind carried our screams away. Olive started to cry when it was over. She hugged me so tightly it hurt and said, “I’ll love you forever, Charlie.”

Apparently we had different definitions of what forever meant.

That day, I asked Olive, “Can we please stay this way?”

She way laying next to me with nothing on but her skin. She looked at me and said, “What do you mean? I’d like to mature someday. I still pray for bigger breasts every night.”

I reassured her with my hands and my mouth that her breasts were perfect.
Then I said, “I meant that I don’t want you to change. You are so beautiful exactly as you are. I can’t stand the thought of you becoming like everyone else.”

Olive smiled and I saw the little gap between her two front teeth. It was adorable. She leaned in and kissed me gently on the cheek.

Then she said quietly, “I’ll never change, Charlie. You have to promise me that you won’t either.”

I promised I wouldn’t change.

I promised her that and so much more as I pulled her into my arms.

The field was dead, just like I knew it would be. The grass was dark yellow and beaten down by the rain. The flowers were broken and drowning in the swamps the swollen river had created.

Looking at it made me feel a little sick. So I stared up at the bright blue sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight.

It was the exact same sky that watched over Olive and I in the summer. It had not changed. For some reason that was reassuring.