Yours

It began on holiday, or rather the holiday was a beginning of sorts.

That Summer was a hot one, almost too hot. Certainly too hot to be laying under canvas. The tents were ovens and setting them up had been more than a chore, the pegs reluctant to enter the scorched and baked earth and in return, the earth placing rocks inconveniently in their way.

For Dan, the holiday was a cause of some discomfort. He was at that awkward age. This he had been told on occasion in a way that he would come to realise was confrontationally patronising, verging on contemptuous. His parents were too busy to see what was happening, let alone attend to it, so they pushed back on him and his attempts to grow up. His parents stance against his teenaged behaviour was necessary, much the same as Spartans casting their young out into the wilderness so that they could be tested and in being tested, learn, grow and survive. 

Dan was bright and some would say sensitive, but as is all too common in people, he was a walking contradiction. His apparent astuteness hid a naivety, which if it were visible would have been a large part of his charm. 

He went into the holiday with supressed expectations. He packed them at the very bottom of his rucksack and squashed them with each and every item he packed. He almost cried as the car moved away from the house, not because he was homesick as such, but because at least he knew every contour, nook and cranny of this battlefield. He felt too weary to take the fight elsewhere. He knew the truth was that he wasn’t taking the fight anywhere, the fight was a habit his parents were in and he had no choice but to raise his shield and weather their slings and arrows.

As it was, the holiday was OK. Everyone was too hot and bothered to do anything other than focus on the holiday itself. There were short trips, mostly to find shade and a long, cool drink. In the evenings his parents talked and listened to the radio, expecting Dan to entertain himself. He took to this slowly and casually, careful to absent himself at a suitably responsible distance. Then he would read, for there was nothing else to do on the campsite, unless he wanted to join in the games of the younger children. Tempted as he was, he never went beyond a smile, a nod, or returning an errant ball to the edges of the action.

Then everything changed.

Dan wasn’t sure how this piece of magic had occurred and he never would be. It wasn’t that they’d had a day out and returned to the new neighbours. That he might be able to explain. It was that he awoke early in the morning as the sun made sleep impossible, and he was greeted by four smiling girls. 

Such was the intensity of this surprise that he almost ran away. A powerful surge of embarrassment threatened to consume him and he really had no idea how he functioned anymore, let alone what he was supposed to do. Somehow, he managed to walk to the shower block and in a manner that was not too conspicuously clumsy. The jets of water partially calmed him and he resolved to carry on as normal.

After all, what else was there to do?

The smiling girls were there upon his return. He had half expected them to have reverted to the portly and balding gentleman with his skinny and serious looking wife. Those two were seasoned campers. Dan could tell because they looked so endlessly morose.

This time Dan smiled. Then he tripped, managing to stifle a cry. Quickly, he scurried into his tent and there he hid until he was certain the girls had left. By the time he had ascertained that his coast was clear, he was a sweaty mess and in need of another shower. He grabbed his paperback and a folding stool and walked to what he now considered to the shade of his tree.

This was where he found one of the four girls.

“Ah,” was the first word he uttered to Daiga, not that he knew her by name at this point in the proceedings, but he would.

“Ah?” returned Daiga as she looked up and smiled at him.

“I was…” Dan began to explain, waggling his book and stool at the girl.

She smiled again. Dan liked that smile. It was warm and it warmed him in interesting ways.

“Do you mind if I…?” Dan asked.

“Not at all,” Daiga said. Her delivery was what Dan thought might be clipped. English wasn’t her first language, he guessed she was from Europe and maybe the eastern part of the continent.

They sat and read. Dan realised that he didn’t feel affronted or uncomfortable by her presence. Quite the opposite in fact. He was enjoying this moment with her and the more he thought about it, the less he could focus on the pages of his book.

He felt Daiga look up from her book, “do you always do that?” she asked him.

“Do…?” he asked suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“That!” she said delightedly.

“I’m not sure, I know…” Dan said.

“What I mean?” Daiga ventured.

“Ah,” Dan said as he understood that he’d been failing to finish his sentences.

“It’s OK,” Daiga reassured him, then she got up and readied herself to go, “I think it’s quite cute!” she said before she walked off.

Dan watched her walk away, wondering whether it was wrong for him to watch her like that. He liked the way she moved, “so do I,” he whispered to himself as he thought about how cute she looked as she moved, or not. She managed to be cute all of the time.

The flummoxed lad was now left with a dilemma. With only one full day of the holiday to go, he had a very small window of opportunity. He wanted to see Daiga again, he wanted to talk to her. he wanted to get to know her better.

But how?

He picked up his book and he read again. His heart wasn’t in it anymore though and he felt sad. Half an hour later, he returned to his tent. The four smiling girls were sat around a stove cooking food which gave forth an interesting aroma.

“Hey! It’s the reading boy!” said one of the girls. She was nudging Daiga in the ribs with her elbow. Daiga rolled her eyes conspiratorially at Dan and he grinned.

Another of the girls piped up, “do you want to come over later?” she asked him.

“We’re having drinks,” whispered the other girl.

Dan raised his eyebrows at this, “I’ll…” he said pointing at his parent’s tent.

“I see what you mean!” there was more elbowing and a chuckle this time.

“We’ll be here,” Daiga told him.

And they were. Dan’s parents rolled far too easily when Dan asked if he could spend some time with the guys in the next tent. Their time alone trumped what he might be getting up to. It did not escape him that they likely thought he was incapable of getting up to mischief. The fact that he concurred weighed heavily on him and added to his terror of ruining the dream that presented itself to him. Dan, with four amazing girls. Girls who had invited him over for drinks. This wasn’t the sort of thing that happened to Dan and he’d not ever seen it in his future. This was beyond him and he knew it.

It turned out that vodka is a great leveller, or something of that nature. Dan, already intoxicated with the unexpected situation, threw himself into the evening and became quite drunk. Fortunately, he kept it at that level and didn’t progress to very drunk. 

The following morning, he awoke with his very first hangover, but was pleased to note that he remembered everything, albeit in a dreamlike haze. The edges of his recollection were blurred, but he was certain they were true to the pleasant evening he had spent with four fifteen year old Latvian girls. 

Despite the imminent end of his holiday, Dan retained a warm glow. He’d learnt a valuable lesson on perspective that hot Summer morning, focusing on what he had as opposed to what it was that he was losing. His time had been short, and he was packing to go home, but at least he had had that time. He had a spring in his step as he packed his bag and took down his tent. He was a little disappointed that he did not see the girls before he left, but then, as his mother drove the car off the campsite, he pulled the slip of paper from his pocket and gazed upon the name and address that Daiga had written for him the night before. Not an email or a phone number. She had been very clear and deliberate about this. They had first met in the shade of a tree and they had shared the time reading, so it was only right that they would write to each other and enjoy more reading as a result. Dan could not have agreed more.

Dear Daiga,

How is your head? I felt a bit fragile this morning and the car journey home was not the most enjoyable of experiences. The evening was great fun though and it went far too quickly. Why is that? Time seems to be a contrary creature. I’m sure the rest of the Summer Holiday will drag, but I’m sure that letters from you will help the time go more swiftly though and I’m looking forward to hearing from you again. I don’t usually write letters and I’ve been told I have typical boy’s writing, so I hope you can read my writing OK?

This letter might beat you home. I hope it does. I like the thought of it waiting for you upon your return from your holiday. I hope the rest of your time went well?

Yours sincerely,

Dan

Writing the letter had been more of a challenge than Dan had anticipated. He had stared at the blank page and felt this odd pressure. He wanted to do the letter justice, but he didn’t want to overdo it. So he decided to keep it short. He hoped there would be more letters and he would get into a rhythm with them. 

“Take it easy, buster,” he advised himself as he wrote. Then he got to the end and deliberated over the sign off. It took him almost as long to decide on yours sincerely than it did to write the rest of the letter. He felt like a fraud with that sign off, but couldn’t understand why.

Dear Dan,

It is so lovely to hear from you, thank you for your letter! I am relieved to see that you can finish sentences after all. Although it was a fun game guessing the missing part of your sentences and  finishing them for you. Maybe we can do that again one day?

We spent another week in England and enjoyed ourselves immensely. I was sad when we had to leave, but I have your letters to look forward to and they are a little piece of your country. I hope you will continue to write to me.

I would like that.

I would like it a lot.

Yours faithfully,

Daiga

PS I did not have a hangover. In my country, it is traditional never to have a hangover when we drink vodka!

Daiga’s letter came ten days after they had first met. Dan was excited to see it in the post and was shaking as he opened it. He smiled as he read the letter. He’d retreated to his room. This was his and it was private. As it was, his parents would never note or remark upon the letters he received from Daiga which was a slight disappointment to the boy, but not so significant that he would do anything to address it.

Dear Daiga,

I wish we had similar traditions in our country, but I fear I am destined to suffer hangovers whenever I drink. Not that I am a seasoned drinker, nor intend to be.

It is the last week of the Summer Holidays and I am getting ready for school again. I have mixed feelings about the return to school. It’s like that Sunday evening feeling, only bigger. I don’t know why we feel like this when there’s nothing we can do about it. I know I’ll enjoy school, barring the few idiots that don’t want to be there and make it worse for everyone. Honestly, I don’t know why some people go into teaching!

When do you go back and what is your favourite subject?

I want to say that mine is English, but that would be cheating really. I love reading, but I enjoy the certainty of maths. I can get maths right, but English is far more tricky.

I’m glad you enjoyed the rest of your holiday. I’ll see if I can send a little piece of England to you, I look forward to receiving pieces of Latvia from you!

Yours gratefully,

Dan

Yet again, Dan deliberated over the sign off of the letter and it was then that he began to realise that Daiga was the real deal. She had left an impression on him and that impression had not washed off when he’d returned home to the routines and rhythms of his life.

When Daiga replied, she teased him about that sign off, she asked what he was grateful for and how grateful he was. There was a cheekiness and light heartedness to her letters that Dan enjoyed, but knew he could not match. He did not think that he missed her, that could not be right, but he wanted to see her again. He expected that he would see her again. If not, why would they be writing to each other?

Nearly a year on, the Summer holidays again approached and the pen pals were still writing to each other. It was Dan who broached the subject of the pending holidays.

…holiday job, which means I won’t be going anywhere this Summer. My parents say university is expensive and I need to start saving for it now. Sensible I suppose. 

What are you doing this Summer?

Daiga’s reply had that same sense of fun that all her letters had, and Dan enjoyed everything about it, finding it on the doormat, opening it, reading it. Imagining Daiga writing it in her bedroom. Taking the time. Thinking of him.

…is ill and I will be helping out in the shop, so probably no holiday for me. It is good to be sensible, but we should always have fun too!

The years passed, but the letters never stopped. Small and magical moments in lives lived. They were kept special by remaining separate. Dan did not want to lose what he had and so he protected it jealously. Some things creep up on us in life, aided and abetted by words unsaid. Dan had wanted to go and see Daiga but he deemed that time to have passed and so he never brought it up, yet he held onto the belief that he would one day see her again.

One day, many years later, he realised why it was that he deliberated over the sign off of each and every letter. On this day, he had the courage of his convictions and he signed the letter the way he should have from the very start. 

Yours

He cried as he wrote that word and his name below it. Decades of emotion crashed through him and he understood what a stupid fool he had been. He had met the girl of his dreams and he had never let her go, but he’d also never done anything about it. He’d guarded what he had instead of nurturing it and encouraging it to grow. Life was a gamble. He’d never staked what he had to win the prize that was right there before him.

Daiga was all that he had ever wanted.

As he awaited her reply, he wondered why it was that he’d never told her how he felt. Why he’d never done anything about it. He began to realise that he treasured those letters too much and he’d wanted to retain their purity in a sullied world. Moreover, the reality of him could never compete with what he could distil into the letters to Daiga. He’d never wanted to disappoint her and so he’d resolved to be content with what he had.

The next letter from Daiga did not arrive with the usual punctuality of all of her previous letters. Never had she missed a reply. Her letters had always arrived within ten days of Dan writing to her. As the days passed, Dan became more listless and worried. A knot grew tighter in his stomach and when eventually a letter arrived, he already knew…

Dear Dan,

I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. My sister always spoke so fondly of you. She lived for your letters and I grew up with her reading them to me. There was a special place in her heart for you and I know you will share my grief and sadness at her passing. 

I wanted her to tell you that she had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, but she was adamant that she would not. Your letters were special to her in a way I have never seen or experienced. I think there should be more of that in the world.

I know it would not be the same, but if you would write to me, I would like that. 

I would like it a lot.