"A good friend would offer you an umbrella in the rain. A best friend would steal yours and say, 'run bitch, run!'" – Unknown

Date: June 8th, 2017

Occasion: National Best Friends Day

Country: United States

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XVII | Letters to Satan

Letter sent January 1st, 12:01 am

Phoebe,

So, it's been a month ever since you left for Poland, and I gave you the cold shoulder the whole time. Feel free to chuck a vase or something at my head if we ever see each other again. I deserve it this time.

Though, I just going to put this out there, the legendary slap of '08 wasn't necessary, okay? I'm pretty sure the left side of my face is still slightly redder than the other, which makes photos a pain in the ass. You scarred me, Phebo. You really did.

Anyway, it's just before midnight on the last day of 2016. I have no idea why the post office is open at this time, but I'm not going to complain. I would have called or something, but I feel like that's not sincere enough. It's unlike me to be all mushy and shit, but here you go. You've always liked those cheesy novels and films, so now you can live them, bestie.

Urgh God, I'm writing this in the midst of some stupid New Year's party and someone just chucked up some– you know what? You probably don't want to know.

It's not a New Year without you. I can't blame your family for moving, and I'm sorry that I wasn't supporting you through all this earlier. I was scared, Phebo! Scared of losing you. But ignoring the truth just made you leave faster. I'm so, so sorry.

I hope you can forgive me someday,

Sam

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Letter sent February 1st, 4:48 pm

Phoebe,

How's Poland going for you? How's your new school? I hope you're fitting. If any guys are harassing you, let me know so I can apparate there and punch their stupid faces in. It's freezing here, I'm a frickin' Sam-sicle. I've been hanging out with Cameron and his friends, but it's not the same. Let's just say they're totally on board with Fifty Shades. Not my thing.

I remember on Valentine's Day, neither of us had dates so you made an origami bouquet of paper flowers and presented them to me. I'd bought a box of consolation chocolates for you on the same day too, so we burst out laughing and ended up hanging at your place.

You were obsessed with Valentine's Day. I don't know why. You made loads of red, pink, and white lanterns and other DIY shit, hanging them all over your house. Didn't I try throwing darts at the paper lanterns? You kicked me in the family jewels for that one. Look, it was too tempting to resist, okay? Who owns darts without a target?

Then, what was it again? Oh yeah, we decided to watch a show. You wanted to watch The Notebook. I wanted to watch The Walking Dead. We compromised by choosing The Wolf of Wall Street, but I'm sure you chose it because you were crushing on Leonardo DiCaprio, weren't you? I hope he wins an Oscar soon. Probably not. There won't be any memes to laugh at if that happens, though I'm sure the Internet would explode.

You haven't written back to me, and I don't blame you. How could I? I was the one who cut this off when you were begging me, almost on your knees, to talk. I'd never seen you so desperate before. I was the one who turned away as tears streamed down your face. I didn't accept your departure until you departed. That was when it became too real.

I'm an asshole,
Sam

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Letter sent March 1st, 7:12 am

Phoebe,

Guess what? Leo won an Oscar! I'm not sure if you heard the news, but even if you did, I would probably be the last person you'd run to, eh? I'm sure you've got loads of new best friends in Poland. Have you learned any Polish words yet? Because one summer, I'd like to spend time learning the swear words of every language. You'd scoff at me for that.

What's happening with your dad's job, anyway? Your mom and mine had this long phone chat last night, but mine kept turning avoiding me every time I was in earshot. Mothers are so shady sometimes, aren't they? You never know what they're up to.

Hmm, what's been happening here these days? It's been another month. February was warmer than January, but not by much. Whatever the weather was, it can't have been colder than Minnie Rosario rejecting Scott Halpern. When she turned him down on Valentine's Day, I swear he went and wept noisily in the guy's bathroom for hours!

Believe it or not, I was the one who went in and consoled him. Surprised? Yeah, so am I. I guess it's because without you, my life is so dull. I need people to have crazy adventures with, Phebo. I can't think of anybody that tops you. Remember when we used to go to the mall and try on every single pair of shoes we could find? I have no idea how you managed to do a cartwheel in five inch heels. You girls have superpowers, I swear. I couldn't feel my feet for three days after that excursion. Mom asked me why I dropped an anvil on my foot.

I miss you,
Sam

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Letter sent April 1st, 6:12 pm

Phoebe,

You know how you do amazing things for people you love? I mean, not in that way. But close friend wise, you've done amazing things for me. Standing up for me in kindergarden by dumping a bowl of punch over my bullies, continuing my speech when I froze. You memorised my speech off by heart because I recited it so much. That was incredible. You're incredible.

It's April now. Springtime. Flowers are starting to bloom in my garden. You've always loved the smell of honeysuckle. You used to come to my house every day after school and we'd eat homemade Popsicles and chat about life. I used to complain about it being girly, but I secretly enjoyed it. You're my best friend. How can I not enjoy time with you?

I heard something about your dad being promoted. That's awesome! He deserves it, he's such a hardworking man. Remember that time when he built a treehouse for us in your garden? It was the legit thing too, not just a bunch of wood pieces haphazardly hammered together. We attached a swing ladder to it so we could climb up. I wonder if it's still there? I should visit your old house sometime, say a hello to the new owners.

I've said this a hundred thousand times, but this town isn't the same without you. You brightened the atmosphere. Flowers seemed to bloom wherever you stepped. I used to be convinced that you were a Earth Fairy or something. I wish you could see these honeysuckles. I wish we could have those cheesy heart-to-hearts again.

Say hello to the Polish flowers for me,
Sam

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Letter sent May 1st, 7:50 pm

Phoebe,

I'm not sure if you're even receiving these letters.

Am I writing these to empty air? What if these letters just end up scattered, drenched and ripped on a deserted island? Please, please, let me know that you're reading these. I need a sign, anything! Shit, I sound so desperate, don't I? Phebo, give me a call. A text. Send a letter back. Launch a missile with a note attached. I need to hear from you. I need to know that you're okay. Please. Do something, I'm going crazy. I'm already crazy.

It's May already, Phebo. Five months without you contacting me. Even your mom scarcely calls mine anymore. I feel it, Phebo, we're growing apart and I'm not sure if that bridge has been permanently burned. We've been together since we were kids! Two peas in a pod! I can't let that be ripped away from me, I've suffered enough losses as it is.

My dad... he came back today. I- I could have stopped him from hurting mom. I should have been there! I should have been there. But I wasn't. Because I was moping over you elsewhere. This is your fault! If you weren't so damn stubborn, my mom might not have bruises all over her body, her face swollen and puffy, tears leaking out of her eyes.

I'm done begging for your forgiveness,
Sam

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Letter sent June 1st, 12:01 pm

Phoebe,

Shit, I am so sorry. I have no idea what came over me when I wrote that previous letter. I was distraught over the sudden appearance of my dad. He only came here to weasel some money out of mom, the bastard. The worst thing is, he was kind in my childhood. You remember him- he was the one who taught us how to play the guitar, even though I kept breaking the strings and you kept laughing at me. Everything was great back then.

That's the thing, isn't it?

That was all in the past.

Now my dad's angry, divorced and abusive. You've moved away and you're ignoring me. Mom's an empty shell of what she used to be. Everything's changing, Phoebe, and I hate it. I loved how we used to be best friends. How we used to always be there for each other. Then Poland happened. Then me being an asshole happened.

It's National Best Friend's Day in one week. I know that you hardly consider me an acquaintance anymore, let alone a best friend, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you. Again, not in the romantic way. Thank you for giving me the best childhood and teenage experience I could ever ask for. This is probably the last letter I'll ever write.

Lots of love,
Sam

P.S. I visited the house which you guys moved out of last year. No one's bought it yet nor taken the tree house down, so I hang out in it these days. Always thinking of you.

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A hot tear trickled down Phoebe's face. Hands shaking, she gently placed the final letter on top of the growing pile that she had collected over the months. She had long since forgiven Sam for his wrongdoings; it was her own stubborn pride that prevented her from picking up her favourite glittery pen and scribbling back a heartfelt reply.

She stood up abruptly, marching out to the kitchen where her father sipped a cup of steaming coffee while reading the newspaper. He jumped as though shocked by a volt of electricity at her entrance, coffee sloshing at the rim of his mug, before he quickly regained his composure with a warm smile. "Phebs, sweetie, how are you?"

"I'm okay–" Phoebe began with her usual reply to anyone who asked that question, but she paused once she remembered her true motives. "No, I'm not okay. Not okay at all."

He frowned concernedly. "Are you okay? Sick? Do you need anything?"

"No," she answered, smiling ruefully at her father's oblivious concerns. "At least, not that kind of sick." She slid into the seat next to her father, twiddling her fingers. That had always been one of her signature nervous habits, according to Sam.

"What kind of sick, then?" her father asked, setting the mug of coffee down so he wouldn't spill it on his freshly laundered shirt.

"I want to move back!" Phoebe blurted out, immediately berating herself. She'd prepared to soften him up and then go in for the kill, not charge in like a bull. She couldn't bear to see her father's expression, so she buried her head in her hands and spoke through her fingers. "I miss my old life, dad. I miss my friends, I miss the honeysuckle flowers. Most of all, I miss Sam. I know that you won't listen, or even care, but–"

"Phoebe."

She glanced up meekly. "Yeah?"

A weary smile spread over her father's face, highlighting the dips and creases of wrinkles on his forehead. Phoebe had been so preoccupied with herself that she hadn't even taken a second to think about her father's health. How had she become so selfish?

Her father spoke, breaking her thoughts. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that. In fact, the only reason I didn't was because I thought you loved it here, but apparently," his eyes twinkled, "we're on the same wavelength."

Phoebe's spirits lifted. "Wait, you don't mean–"

"We're moving back to Connecticut."

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Sam leaned against the wooden wall of the treehouse Phoebe's father had built so many years ago, wishing that he could be transported back to that time. Everything was all right then, and suddenly, his whole world tipped upside down and it all went wrong.

He couldn't stop thinking about Phoebe. What was she doing? How was she? Did she get the letters? Even if she did, would she care? She could have thrown them into a paper shredder without a second thought. But, Sam thought as he fiddled with a watch that Phoebe had given him for his seventeenth birthday, she wouldn't do that.

A flicker of doubt cut across his heart. Would she?

Deciding that it was pointless to stay here and mope about a girl who he would probably never see again, he climbed up to his feet with difficultly. He had removed the watch he was tinkering with before, and made a decision to throw it with as much strength as possible. So he could throw away those memories with it, start afresh.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The whole world flipped again.

Sam froze with his arm in throwing position as his mind failed to register the familiar voice at first. Sweet, beautiful, laced with honeysuckle. No way. But he spun around anyway and peered through the leaves to see – there was no mistaking her – Phoebe, standing in the flesh, eyes shining like a thousand suns.

"Phebo?" he shouted through the foliage.

"No shit, Sherlock!" Phoebe called back. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair! Or in this case, the swing ladder."

With that, she began climbing her way up as Sam watched with an open mouth. Once she reached the top, she neatly sprang up and landed on the balcony of the tree house. She turned to him, eyebrows scrunching together. "Why're you staring at me?"

Sam didn't answer, but only silently reached out and prodded her on the arm, mouth wide enough to catch flies. It was only then that he could confirm, "you're real."

"Of course I'm real. I'm here, aren't I?" Phoebe said airily, admiring the rustic walls. "Woah, this treehouse is exactly the same as it was all those years ago, isn't it? That's impressive. My dad did a great job with this one."

"Well, while your dad uses his hammer to smash things, mine's been using his fists!" Sam said loudly, his voice being carried by the wind. He couldn't help it, there was so many things going on in his life. Phoebe looked like she'd had the time of her life in Poland, and he was here. He was always here. People relied on him. He himself had no one to rely on.

Phoebe's cheeky grin faded as she reached out a hand. "Oh, Sammy–"

He jerked back instinctively. "Don't touch me." She couldn't hide the hurt expression on her face, which made him feel bad, but he demanded, "why didn't you ever write back? In fact, why are you here now? I thought you were in Poland, for God's sake!"

"Sammy, look," she sighed, dropping down and sitting on the floor where Sam had previously been. After a moment of indecisiveness, Sam sat next to her tentatively. "I'm not going to pretend that it's my fault. It is. It's my own stupid pride. I wanted to write back to you, I just didn't know what to say. Sorry I ditched you? Not exactly warm and fuzzy."

"Then why are you here?"

"Dad's job didn't work out for him, and he and mom both missed Connecticut," Phoebe answered with ease, a smile reappearing. "The only reason he held out for so long was because he thought I was happy there."

"Were you?" Sam asked, afraid of the answer.

"Without you? No way," she replied quietly, before jerking her chin at Sam's phone peeking out of his pocket. "You had a chance to look at today's date yet?"

"Wha–" Sam pulled out his phone and it abruptly clicked in his mind. "Oh, it's National Best Friends Day. How did I not notice?"

"I guess you were too preoccupied with my reappearance," Phoebe joked. "Because I'm so captivating, of course. Now, put that watch back on, silly boy. It was fucking expensive and I paid for it myself. Also, are you going to give me a hug or what? Or are you not my best friend anymore?"

"Shut up," Sam complained. Even so, he wrapped his arms around Phoebe, pulling her gently into his chest. Her honeysuckle perfumed scent enveloped him in a way that tingled his senses as though sparked by electricity. The world around them melted away as they held the sweet embrace, never wanting the moment to end.

"You know," Phoebe's voice was muffled, and Sam wasn't sure whether it was because her face was buried in his shirt or because of the hot tears that seared his shoulder. "I'm in the mood for some chocolate and Leo DiCaprio."

"I missed you," he chuckled, hugging her tighter.

"Missed you too, bestie," she whispered.

Because the emotion of being with a best friend overpowers all else. That's how you can share everything with them, feel a connection even if they're a million miles away. How their embrace can melt everything around you, like holding a flickering flame suspended near candle wax. How their laugh chimes merrily in your ears and makes everything seem okay.

Don't let that feeling go. Don't let your best friend go. Besides, they probably still owe you lunch money, so you'd better make sure that they pay you back.