Authors: Hannah Harvey
It’s a celebration trip, because as of today I am officially (finally) a high school graduate, are you proud? I wish I could watch you read this letter, like I used to when I was in the hospital, waiting to see what your reactions were, but I know I can’t so I have to stop dwelling on it. I do wish I could know if you are proud of me though.
Megan is reading this over my shoulder at the moment, even though I keep telling her that it’s private and she’s being rude. She’s telling me not to be so stupid, that of course you’d be proud of me, because from what she’s heard about you, which she claims is a lot because I never stop talking about you, she can tell that you’re the kind of guy who would be proud of me for graduating, and I know that she’s right about you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let her continue reading this…
Ok, Megan’s gone out to buy some ice cream, so I have some privacy to write this now. I’ve been accepted into the local college, but I also put in an application to one of the best colleges on the east coast for writing courses, in fact it’s an arts college, dedicated to English, music, art and all that stuff that I adore. It’s a relatively small college near Philadelphia, called Nicholls College; it was founded by a man named John Nicholls, who dedicated the school to helping young writers and creative people. I’ve decided to major in creative writing, and somehow I actually got accepted into this amazing school, which is more than a surprised to me. I haven’t told my parents or my friends yet, which is one of the reasons I wanted Megan to stop reading this letter over my shoulder, and also why I am grateful that she had the sudden need for ice cream. I know what I probably should do, even though going to a school dedicated to writers would be amazing, I’ve only been out of hospital for a few months, and I’ve only been truly strong for even less time; but how can I turn down such an amazing opportunity? I honestly don’t know what I’ll end up doing, but either way I think I’m going to have to talk to my parents about it.
Kylie’s parents are going to trust her to go to California for college in September, so perhaps my parents might trust me to go back east for school, especially since it’s a school that has produced so many good writers, in fact it’s already being called the best school for aspiring novelists in the world. I don’t know if I can turn that down, would it be foolish to turn it down? I don’t know but I’m going to take my time thinking about it, I won’t make a rash decision that I’ll only end up regretting later, I think that I need to think this through a lot.
I’m working again only not at the grocery store, because now that I am allowed more freedom I had more choices, so I am now working in a coffee shop, the work is a little boring at times, but the employees are all friendly and the customers are nice as well, we have the regulars that come in every day, so we get to know quite a few people. I’m enjoying it. I think more than anything I enjoy being busy, I thought a while ago that I was missing running, I wrote about it in a letter to you, and although I do miss running, I think it’s more to do with missing the feeling of being tired, and not just tired because while I was ill I was tired all the time, but I miss feeling tired in a good way, not because I’m too weak to have energy, but because I’ve actually done something with my day. I like working a lot, and I’ve started saving because once I finish college, I want to be able to rent a decent place where I can write, probably an apartment somewhere that has a writing corner. I’m imagining a little apartment in an old building, I picture it being an open plan kitchen/lounge/bedroom, with bookcases and stacks of books everywhere, a desk against the wall where I can write for hours, on my laptop and not the typewriter my dad bought me, although I love my typewriter, and I do use it often for short stories and for these letters. I can picture windows with wrought iron frames, set into red brick walls, with hardwood floors that run through the whole apartment. There would be a bed tucked away in one corner behind a folding screen, the bed would be covered in an array of cushions of different styles and colors, in a very bohemian style, and the desk would be the other side of the room from the bed, it would be a large old fashioned wood desk, covered in papers and books. I can picture it all so clearly in my head, that when it comes to actually finding an apartment, nothing will be quite right.
On another note, now that I’m done rambling on about my future apartment, I wanted to say that I’m planning on enjoying this summer. It’s still strange that I need to put in a conscious effort in to be happy, but I do and I’ve resigned myself to that at the moment. I’ve got a lot to look forward to, I’m going away with my friends, and I’m going to France with my parents as well, and then when I am here I’ve got my job to keep me busy. So I’m going to do my very best to enjoy every moment of this summer, because even though last summer was amazing with you, and I would never take any of it back; I was still in a hospital with very little freedom, we only left the hospital grounds that one time, and it didn’t go well because of my anxiety, which is gone now, it took a while but things are turning around for me now. I’m feeling like my old self, the version of me before I met Kim and she started the dominoes falling, and it feels so good to be back to this point, it’s something I can never repay you for, and it’s a gift that I’ll treasure for the rest of my life, but now it’s time I let you go, however hard that is for me to admit, and I know it’ll be hard for me to actually follow through, but it is time for me to move on with my life, and I think I can now, because of you I’m stronger and more mature, I’m able to cope with things on my own, so now I need to try. It’s the only way I might stand a chance of going east for college, because when I think of you I feel weak, even though it was you who made me strong. I hope you understand why I need to do this on my own, if I started up contact with you, it would be too easy to slip back into those roles, you taking care of me, and me relying on you for everything. I hope you don’t think I’m crazy; it’s just something I need to prove to myself.
I’m going to end this here, because there really isn’t anything else to say. I’ll always love you, I know that much, and I’ll always think of you from time to time, but I don’t regret leaving. Your sister was so right when she came to see me; everything she said just upset me at the time. I left because I was confused and upset, but I can see it far clearer now. I was in no position to love you, I was weak and fragile and you would have felt a need to fix me all the time, I couldn’t have been your equal back then, and I think that’s what’s really needed in a truly strong relationship, I think you need to enter as equals. So now I’m going to end this letter and mail you the rest of my story, and then you’ll become part of my past, and then one day maybe I’ll be strong enough to be a part of your future.
Goodbye Oliver and thank you. I couldn’t have gotten here without you.
Chapter Thirty
Oliver 7
June had started off with hot days and cool nights in Sederwood, but now as the second week of June rolled around Oliver was left with sticky nights, making it impossible to sleep. He’d just got off his shift at the medical center, which in fact was a small clinic that saw around twenty patients each day, a striking contrast to the busy hospital he’d previously worked in. He was now walking back to the house, because now that he lived so close to his work, he preferred to walk. He was thinking about the work he still had to do when he got home, because the end of a shift didn’t mean the end of his working day. After his first week in town things had moved fast, he’d found Melissa, a twenty three year old college graduate, who had dedicated herself to helping the homeless. Primarily she was a lawyer who helped those who couldn’t afford to pay for a lawyer, but in her spare time she ran the soup kitchen, a project which she had set up while she was in high school, and had kept going all through her time at college, and alongside her demanding career as well. Oliver had hit it off with her right away, her passion to help people was astounding, and she’d found his determination to open up his house to the homeless, to be a quality she regarded highly. From the start she’d helped him get the house up and running, helped to shove aside furniture to make room for beds, three in each of the bedrooms, because Oliver himself had taken to sleeping in the attic, and having that as his space where he could work, but the rest of the house was entirely for everyone’s use. He used the money from the sale of his house to keep things going
, buying clothes and food for everyone who passed through, and then he helped them to get their lives on track; it didn’t matter if it was a sixty year old man who’d been living rough for years, or a teenage girl who had been kicked out of home or ran away, he didn’t ask questions about their past, but he listened if they wanted to talk. He’d help them to clean themselves up, and found them employment, but he would never ask anyone to leave, until he was completely certain that they could take care of themselves and once they reached that point, he would help them find a new place to live, and check in on them to make sure they were staying on top of things. When somebody moved out, he would drop into the soup kitchen and find someone new to bring into the house, so there was a constant turn over.
He’d just been to the soup kitchen to find someone new to bring back to the house, so now he was walking home in the sticky June heat, accompanied by a young pregnant woman, and by Melissa who always came along to settle new arrivals in.
‘Now Fiona I don’t want you to feel like I’ve abandoned you, of course you’ll be getting all your meals at Oliver’s house now, but you can come and see me whenever you like, if you need to talk.’ Melissa offers the young woman a kind smile, Fiona nods her head a little anxiously; she isn’t sure what to expect when she arrives at Oliver’s house, she knows that he’s extremely kind and generous, all of the people she’d met at the soup kitchen who had gone to live in his house, had all said how wonderful it was there, but she was still worried.
‘I know I can.’ Fiona swallows down the lump in her throat, ‘I just want to pull myself back up. I really don’t want to burden anyone.’
‘Nobody who comes here is a burden to me or anyone else, I can promise you that.’ Oliver reassures her as they round the corner and the house comes into view, beautifully bathed in the late evening sunlight, they stop in the long grass which surrounds the house, and he lets her take it all in, before he continues, both talking and moving towards the main path.
‘All of the people who stay here are expected to help out, as much as they are able to. There’s always something to be done, cooking, cleaning, gardening, things that need fixing or repainted, so there’s always plenty to do, especially out on the farm land, some of the first people I had staying here started up a vegetable patch, it’s grown quite extensively now, so we’ve taken to calling it the farm.’ He smiles warmly, opening the mailbox and pulling out the letters.
‘Mostly I just want everyone to feel like this is their home, no matter how short a time or how long they stay, this is your home for as long as you need it to be.’
Fiona relaxes and smiles gratefully at him, reassured by his kindly spoken words, she has now fixed her own opinion of him, he is all the things she’s heard him describes as, kind and generous and so much more, she can see why Melissa has been falling for him, and to look at Melissa now it’s obvious, she’s gazing at Oliver like he can do no wrong.
‘Would it be alright if I looked around alone for a bit?’ Fiona asks, skillfully giving them some space to talk alone.
‘Of course, like he said it’s your home now, so you needn’t ask.’ Melissa nods her head, watching Fiona walk off to take in her new surroundings, then once Fiona is out of sight Melissa turns to Oliver, the extraordinary man who had appeared
in her little town, and is suddenly changing so much around her for the better. ‘I really appreciate what you’re doing here, have I told you that recently?’
‘Only every single time I see you.’ Oliver laughs falling into step with Melissa, walking down towards the fish pond.
‘Well you deserve it, you’ve done a great thing here, and yet I really don’t know all that much about you, you’re always so selfless, is there nothing you want for yourself? Nothing I can help you with?’ Melissa sits at the edge of the pond, pulling her knees to her chest, not defensively like River used to, but the gesture still reminds him sharply of her.
‘I don’t need anything and you do help.’ Oliver lays the unlooked at mail between them, gazing out over the sloping hills beyond his land.
‘What brought you here? I mean why this out of the way town?’ Melissa’s voice holds just a little desperation, she wants so much to know this wonderful man, but he keeps himself so guarded, she feels like direct questioning is the only way she’ll get to know the man she’s falling for.
‘Honestly I just needed to escape New York – there was some stuff there I needed to forget, and as for why here, I just picked it at random.’ Oliver shrugs his shoulders simply, ‘It’s nothing spectacular I’m afraid, I could just as easily of ended up in a town in Boston, or an apartment in Seattle.’
‘Well I’m incredibly pleased you ended up here, a lot of people think you only have homeless and needy people in large cities, but we get a lot of it round here as well, people come here from a lot of the towns around here, because they’ve heard about the soup kitchen. A lot of the people I see come in just wanted to get out of the cities, even though they had no place to go, they lose everything and have nowhere else to go, and no matter how much I try and do, there are always more people that need help.’