It’s Not Weird to Say I Love You is the story of a fragile new friendship determined to grow stronger in spite of the bullies and beliefs bent on its destruction. A tender, awkward, and at times heart-wrenching tale of first love, buried grief, and found family reminiscent of Eleanor & Park and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, It’s Not Weird… offers an emotional escape from our tech-centered lives to a time when DMs were sent as hand-written notes, scrawled onto napkins and slid into locker vents. When talking outside of school meant talking on the telephone and hoping no one in your house “picked up” and embarrassed you. When trolls had names and faces and sat beside you in home room. When making a connection required the courage to show up, speak up, and open up… just as you are.
New chapters of Annie and Merrick’s story will post every Wednesday morning.
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Chapter Thirty
Three days.
That’s how long I remained under the veil of fever and delirium. I have vague memories of my mom bringing me Kool-Aid and walking me to the bathroom to take a cool shower while sitting down in the tub. But other than that, it was mostly vivid dreams of everyone I knew on the planet kissing or punching each other. Then I’d wake up soaking wet and crying for no apparent reason.
Friday was the first morning I felt like a person when I opened my eyes. I knew I was getting better because I instantly thought about Merrick. And not the flu dream version of him that was kissing Drake and smearing my face with strawberry milkshake, but the real version of him that I was missing so desperately I could barely breathe anymore.
It had only been two weeks. And I still didn’t know exactly when he would be coming home. It all depended on how well he was doing with his program. Laura said last time he was there for three months. That was too long.
Friday afternoon Danielle came by with some schoolwork for me. I asked her about Drake’s last day, hoping he’d at least escaped being beaten up by Travis before he left.
“No one said much to him,” she admitted. “He did come to my locker to say goodbye. He looked really sad about leaving. I don’t know why. His last few days were kind of awful because of me.”
“That’s not why they were awful,” I said. “Not entirely.”
“I know,” she said. “But I still feel bad about it.”
I let it go, because truthfully, I thought she should feel bad about the lie she told about Drake. Maybe it would keep her from making that mistake again.
She was pulling at a loose thread on my duvet, her eyes down. I knew she was thinking hard about something, which was uncharacteristic for her. She usually just talked without thinking.
“I thought about what you asked me,” she said. “About whether I was still going to be friends with Drake after we broke up. And it kind of bugged me that I said no. I mean, I meant it. But it felt like I’d done something wrong by not being his friend.”
“Did you want to be his friend?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But I know he wanted to be mine. That was pretty obvious.”
“What made it obvious?”
“Just the way he talked to me. He was always talking. It was kind of annoying, because I really just wanted to be kissing him, you know. And he would, but sometimes it was like, he was only doing it to make me happy. And it wasn’t making him happy. But for some reason, I didn’t care.” The thread she was pulling at snapped and she started twirling the loose end around her index finger. “Do you think I’m shallow?” She suddenly looked up and I was pinned down by the question.
I hoped I wasn’t making the face my brain wanted to make. The one that said, “Um… yeah it’s pretty shallow to expect your boyfriend to kiss you on demand even if it’s making him miserable when you’re not even willing to listen to him talk for a few minutes first.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you and Drake just weren’t a good fit,” I said.
“Maybe not,” she sighed. “But why would I want to have sex with him if we weren’t a good fit? What’s wrong with me, Annie?”
She was asking the wrong person. Danielle and I had been operating on two different planets for a while now and I didn’t know how to give someone from her dimension sex advice. I wasn’t equipped to give anyone sex advice. She must have known that.
“Why did you want to have sex with him?” I asked.
“Same reason I want to do anything right now,” she said. “To have it be done so I can stop worrying about when and how it’s going to happen to me. I mean, this stuff happens to everybody, right? Dating, parties, drinking, sex. It’s all important stuff that we’re going to do, so I just figured the sooner I do it, the sooner I can say I did it and move on with my life.”
The duvet thread was cutting off her circulation and she started unraveling it quickly to release the pressure. I suddenly worried I’d hurt Danielle by distancing myself from her for so long. Maybe if I’d been around more, I could have helped her think through all this stuff. Even if I didn’t know a lot about the things she wanted to do. I knew enough to tell her that she was looking at it all wrong.
“But if something is really important,” I said, “shouldn’t you not rush into it? Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until it… felt right?”
She sighed, grabbing a pillow from the foot of my bed and hugging it to her chest. “How do you know when it feels right?”
My mind went to Merrick, and the moments when things had felt right. I didn’t know how to put it in words. It was easier to say how it felt when we hit a snag. When one of us would put the brakes on or push too hard. The feelings that came from that were easier to define.
But when everything just clicked and our brains and our hearts and our bodies were perfectly in tune, it was just easy. Like… breathing.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess when what’s happening doesn’t put a voice in your head that asks questions. Or one that tells you to stop. Or to wait. And when it’s with someone else, they aren’t hearing those voices either. It’s quiet. And everything just… makes sense.”
She rested her chin on the pillow and took a deep breath.
“That sounds really awesome,” she said dreamily.
“Yeah,” I said with an ache in my heart. “It is awesome.”
“So, you have that with Merrick and you guys aren’t fooling around with each other?” She raised her eyebrows playfully.
I laughed. “We’re being friends first. He wants to take things slow and do them right.”
“And that doesn’t drive you insane?” she asked, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.
“Oh, it totally does,” I said. “But it’s weirdly kind of hot at the same time.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I can see that.”
We looked at each other and giggled. I was glad she came over and that she felt like she could still talk to me about things. She really wasn’t as far off planet as I thought. At least she was actually thinking about the choices she made and hopefully learning something about who she really was and what she really wanted in the process. I’m sure I would always be worrying about her, but that was okay. I kind of always had been.
And I was surprised how much I liked talking about boys. Now that I sort of had one to talk about. And I had a lot to catch her up on.
“You miss him.” She said pulling me out of the daydream I didn’t realize I was in.
I nodded.
“When does he get back?”
“I don’t know. When he’s better I guess.”
“Are you guys talking on the phone at least?”
“No.”
“Can you visit him there?”
“No.”
“Can you write him a letter?”
“He doesn’t want me to,” I said.
“Well, screw that,” she said, throwing the pillow at me. “Why does he get to make all the rules?”
“Um..”
“Write him a letter immediately,” she demanded.
I furrowed my brow at her.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Write him the sweetest, steamiest, most romantic love letter of his damn life. Just to remind him of what’s waiting for him at home and of how much he wants to get back here.”
“I’m not going to do that,” I said, half considering her suggestion.
“Well, I’m not going to talk to you until you do,” she said standing up.
“What? Come on.”
“Friends, Shmiends,” she said. “You guys are so hot for each other it’s embarrassing. The least you can do is admit it. And there won’t be any pressure to you know… do anything about it until he gets home. Which I have a feeling will be so much sooner if you write that letter.” She grinned mischievously to herself as she pulled her backpack over her shoulder and started out the door.
“Hang on,” I said. “I’ll walk you out.” I didn’t buy her ‘not going to talk to me’ nonsense. She obviously didn’t mean that.
“Okay,” she called over her shoulder as she headed down the front walk. “Call me when you’ve sent the letter. Until then, you’re dead to me.”
“Danielle! Don’t be stupid!” I laughed.
“Can’t hear you,” she said waving without turning around.
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see them and headed back inside.
“What was that about?” Mom asked from the kitchen table where she was sorting mail.
“Nothing,” I said. “Danielle is making me write to Merrick even though he doesn’t want me to.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” she said. “I thought I should wait to give this to you until you were feeling up to it.” She walked over and handed me an envelope.
My heart tried to escape my chest at the sight of the letter addressed to me in royal blue Sharpie. The return address read:
I don’t remember running up the stairs. I don’t remember tearing open the envelope. I don’t remember jumping into bed and sinking into my peppermint scented pillows. But I do remember every word of that letter.
Every. Single. Word.
I LOVE IT! Oh that is sweet (and weirdly hot) how Merrick keeps breaking his self-imposed rules.
If I remember my teens, we read those letters over and over, savoring every word, translating each word, hoping to decipher the secret, even hotter, meaning to what was said. It was pathetic...🤭 🤣