Dear Olive

I thought of excuses for Olive as I walked home from the funeral. It was a little over four miles, but I didn’t want to take the subway. I wanted to walk and think of every reason that she didn’t show up that day.

Maybe she was working and she couldn’t get out of it. Maybe she had trouble with the directions and was aimlessly wandering the city. Really, a million and one things could have happened.

It was possible right? Wasn't it unfair to assume that Olive didn't care anymore. When I saw her at school, she could have a perfectly valid explanation for why she missed the funeral.

The next day was Monday. I rode the bus to school since I no longer had a vehicle. My Nan’s truck was totaled by the accident.

I didn’t have the cash to even think of buying a new one. Almost all of the money my Nan had in the bank was going toward lawyer fees. Anything I kept aside was to buy necessities like groceries and toilet paper.

My Nan’s house was officially on the market. Once it sold, the paperwork declaring me a legal adult would hopefully have gone through and I would be able claim the money that was earned from it.
I didn’t really want to sell the house, but I wasn’t making nearly enough money at my part time job to heat the place in the winter.

The cold weather was approaching quickly so I hoped all the legal stuff would go though without any issues. I was already doubling up on blankets and wearing wool socks to bed. I could use a space heater, but then the power bill would skyrocket.

When the bus came to a stop, I came back to the present. Thinking about the future had me worried. What if I wasn’t ready to be an adult?

I had just turned sixteen. I was supposed to be spending Christmas break with Olive and taking her to Prom in the spring. I was supposed to be helping my Nan cook dinner in the evenings and borrowing her truck for school in the mornings. I was trying so hard to deal with reality, but my brain kept reminding me of how things were supposed to be.

How could I deal with the truth, when it all felt like a bad dream?

I wanted to wake up.

When I walked into school, Olive was leaning against her bright yellow locker. She was talking to a girl I didn’t know and she had a smile on her face. I didn’t try to catch her attention as I walked by, but she saw me and called my name.

“Charles, I got your letter the other day,” she said loudly. “I’m such a klutz though and I spilled coffee on it before I could read it. What was it you wanted to tell me? I mean you really could have called or messaged me. Letters are kind of silly and old fashioned, aren’t they?”

“You didn’t used to think so,” I replied. “You used to love getting mail. Even junk mail that had your name on it made you happy. You made your uncle Rick send you mail from around the world when he went on business trips. The funny looking stamps were your favorite part.”

Olive’s tilted her head and asked,” So, you were trying to make me happy by sending me a letter? That was very nice of you Charles.”

It was like going to another funeral. There was no hole in the ground for Olive, but she was just as gone. The girl that I loved was just as dead as my grandmother.

That was reality

I still wanted to wake up.