Chapter 47

ZAHIRA’S NEXT LETTER comes two weeks later. It has a picture of her posing in front of her pink truck, her arms outstretched towards it as if saying, See?

Dear Dany,

Oh, we dissected frogs, alright. And rats. And hearts. Almost everything. Our prof took us on a field trip to the funeral home once, and…yeah. There were definitely some dead bodies there.

So, I know you’re probably leaving soon. I guess this will be my last letter. I’ll miss you! And Shirley does NOT have bald spots. See for yourself.

I mean it, about you coming to visit. Maybe in a few years, when it’s safe. You can come back and I can take you to the carnival. I bet you’ve never been on a roller coaster, huh? And then we can go to that arcade! They got even more claw machines. There’s definitely a doll in there I’ve got my eyes on…

So. Time to get serious now. I’ve been trying to keep these letters fun and light. I didn’t want to stress you out. But I have to say this before I don’t have the chance anymore.

I know it seems like I slid back into my old life easily, but I just haven’t been telling you the hard parts. It’s been strange to just pretend like nothing ever happened. Sometimes I wake up and feel like I’m trapped in a glass bubble. I guess what I’m trying to say is: it’ll be hard for you, too. Or, I guess, it’s already been hard for you, all these months. But I just want you to know that it gets better. It won’t be hard forever. I know trying to move on feels like trying to forget, and we don’t want to forget. We don’t want to let go.

But that’s the thing. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. One day, when you think about her, it won’t hurt so much anymore. But that doesn’t mean you’re forgetting her, or leaving her behind. It means you learned how to carry her. And that’s a good thing. I promise. Cross my heart and everything.

I hope you have a safe trip. I hope you move somewhere with wonderful weather. And I hope Lilian lets you have a dog. Or a cat! Or possibly a rabbit for real. Here are some more pictures of Poquito to keep you company.

I’ll miss you! Have a safe trip!

-Zahira.

I stare at the letter in a daze. I know she poured her heart into it, but all I can think is one thing.

I’m leaving soon.

This is it.

But there’s still so much I want to say to her. I need to thank her. I need to apologize. I need more than a few hours hovering over a blank piece of paper, thinking and rethinking about what to write and then waiting days and weeks for a response. I need to see her. I need to talk to her.

But it’s not possible. It’s too risky. Lilian would never let me go. She did mention the possibility of a video call, but I’ve seen the other kids in my room do that with their family. The connection is always choppy and pixelly, and the sound is grating and tinny, and seeing Zahira like that as our last conversation would only make me feel worse. I just know it.

So write the letter, Dany. Just write the letter.

I ask for a pen and paper. I stare at the pale blue lines, my pen uncapped and ready to write. I should do what Zahira did, pour my heart into it, tell her how much I’ll miss her before I don’t have the chance anymore.

But all I put down is:

Dear Zahira,

Thank you for everything.