Chapter 19: Wish

“I wish Gabby stopped being so mean to me.”

That had been my childish wish, some thirty years ago. It made a lot of sense at the time. Gabby had been my best friend until we changed classes. After that, well, she turned her nose up at me and ignored me. I didn’t understand, wouldn’t understand for years.

To be honest, I never actually knew, I just think I did. Someone had asked me something strange around that time which I’d forgotten.

“Hey, hey, are you gonna marry Gabby when you grow up?”

Back then, I thought to myself for a moment and then said, “I want to.” It made a lot of sense at the time. Gabby had been my best friend and I didn’t understand marriage at all and so I thought it would be nice to be married to my best friend. We would have a sleepover every day and talk all night about whatever we wanted. To my nine-year-old brain, that seemed really nice.

The thing about bullying was that you didn’t bully people who didn’t care. You bullied the people who got upset and frustrated and cried—like Gabby did. She was always the sensitive sort. Gentle, caring: she was the kindest. If it was the case that my answer made life difficult for her, I didn’t see and she didn’t say. They probably tried teasing me, but, again, I would’ve taken it in stride and that’s just no fun.

Long after I’d flipped a penny into the well at a nearby park with that wish in mind, I had come to accept that Gabby would no longer be a part of my life. Elle, she went by now, as though distancing herself even from the nickname I’d always called her by. We finished at that school and went up to the nearby high school. I saw her even less than before, a passer-by in a hallway or a figure across the green where a quarter of the school ate their lunch.

There had been a chance—the smallest chance—when she came to see the basketball club one day after school. She had loved sports. That had been how we had really bonded, playing catch in the park near to where we had both lived. She’d shown an interest in basketball when we’d drifted apart, so part of me had hoped she’d turn up when I joined the club in high school.

As soon as she had spotted me, she turned around and left, damping my mood for weeks.

Time moved forward and we went our separate ways. Well, I went to university and I had no idea what she did. At the least, I never saw her around campus, so she probably didn’t attend the same one as me. Then, I started working. Again, I didn’t see her around, so she probably worked somewhere else.

I never quite forgot about her. Gabby had been my best friend, no one else taking her place over the years at school or the years in the workplace. Even when I was dating someone, I thought about her, which probably contributed to why my relationships never quite worked out.

I’d definitely overly romanticised her so no one could hope to match her. She had been so kind and gentle, so funny and fun to be with, so pretty. Of course, I’d begun to feel massively conflicted about these feelings. I was kind of in love with an eight-year-old girl, but at least I imagined her as she’d looked when eighteen—when I’d last seen her. She’d probably changed over the years. Definitely, she had changed. I didn’t feel like I had changed, but I didn’t think anyone ever really did, the change so gradual.

Still, a part of me knew she had become a wonderful woman, living a wonderful life with a loving husband and the perfect job and with however many kids she wanted—probably three and a pet dog. If that wasn’t the case, I wished for her to get where she wanted soon. Thirty years may have passed, but Gabby was my best friend, so I wanted the best for her.

Those kinds of reminiscent thoughts dragged me back to the park of my youth. A new basketball hoop had been put up, but the half-court itself still had no fence around it and was awfully close to the swings. My older years of childhood (once personal responsibility had set in) had been fraught with worry, chasing every missed shot before it caused an accident. No one else around, I didn’t have to care quite so much today.

The years had been kind enough to me. I’d kept up with exercising and yoga, so everything still moved like it used to. That said, I remembered the hours of frustration I spent in front of this hoop, counting shots. Trying to remember further, I wondered what my record had been.

One by one, I sank the shots, eventually confident I probably hadn’t made it past a hundred in a row back then.

Covered in sweat, I pattered over to my drawstring bag and sat on the grass. After I guzzled most of a litre of water, I gave in to my burning lungs and just breathed deep and fast, heart beating slower and slower. It felt so good to work myself up. I didn’t get the opportunity much, my work so demanding.

When my pulse settled and breathing normalised, I got back up, carrying the ball under my arm. Three-pointers had always been my speciality. A bit lanky and with a good jump, I sank shots no problem. I wished I could have showed Gabby. She’d been so happy when we managed to make any shot, the hoop so tall (or rather, us so small) we could barely throw her brother’s ball high enough.

The park still clear, I walked it back the edge of the half-court. Knees bent and ball by my chest, I pumped up, letting the ball roll across my fingertips on its way, arcing across the court. It felt like a good shot. With a clanking and chiming from the metal net, the ball swished right through the hoop. I couldn’t help myself and stretched my arms high in celebration. That had been a really good shot—the kind to impress.

My positive mood lasted until I walked over to pick up the ball and it slipped out my sweaty hand, rolling across the grass. With a groan, I followed after. From where it landed, I was right behind the hoop and a thought came to me. I had always wanted to try to sink a shot from the back. In theory, it was the same as normal, just I couldn’t use the backboard and I had to loop it really, really high.

The desire getting the better of me, I squared up. Beneath me, the grass felt nice, a little more springy than the concrete court. Taking a deep breath, I readied myself, coiling like a spring. In a single motion, I launched myself up and pushed the ball high. It rolled off my fingers well, arced well, so I landed in good spirits.

Then, the beautiful arc collided with the top of the backboard. Panic overtaking me, I shot off in the same direction the ball did, racing across the half-court and onto the grass behind. So busy watching the basketball, I wasn’t looking where I was going at all.

In a last bounce, the ball popped up off the edge of the wishing well and smacked my chin, nearly knocking me over. Still, I caught it before it hit the ground. Still, it hurt and I barely held the swearwords back, rubbing my jaw.

Once I calmed down, I looked at the well. My old wish came back to me. In a way, it had come true, just I wished I had instead wished she would be nice to me again. A distant clink brought me to the edge of the well, looking down into its depths. I couldn’t see anything, but a small piece of rock must have come loose—something like that.

Turning around, I walked back over to the court. Only, my bad luck had yet to finish and my ankle gave. The fall wasn’t terrible, but the concrete made itself known, grazing my palm. It stung as I tried to shake away the pain.

“Ah, I must’ve twisted it on the grass,” I muttered, giving my ankle a rub too.

My self-pity didn’t last beyond that, someone behind me speaking up. “Ah, excuse me—are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, pushing myself around a little. Any other words I may have had fled, my brain overcome by the beautiful lady paying attention to me. Slender and wearing a wonderful summer dress, skin flawless, she may well have been a goddess. If my thoughts showed—and I’d been told they always showed—she at least didn’t seem bothered.

“Oh my, a graze? We should sort that out.”

My wits coming back to me, I smiled, sheepish. “No, it’s fine. Happens all the time.”

“We should at least clean it,” she said, her gentle tone becoming strict.

“Yeah, I’ve got some water in—”

She lowered herself to the ground beside me, folding her dress neatly as she did, before bringing around her handbag. “I have disinfectant with me.”

“Do you often walk around with that?” I found myself asking before my brain caught up.

Lovely laughter flowed from her lips, leaving a smile behind. “An old habit. My friend would always get cuts playing, so I made sure to have plasters for her.”

“But, disinfectant? I don’t think you’re even supposed to use it on skin.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a wet wipe,” she said, pulling one out. “I’d rather you used this than water that’s been sitting around all day.”

Trying to take it from her, I said, “Thanks.”

She didn’t let go, instead tugging it away from me and holding my injured hand steady, gently wiping it herself. Her hands were so soft, warm. I would have been lying if I said my pulse didn’t quicken. Then, the amount of sweat drenching me suddenly occurred to me. I hoped she had a blocked nose or otherwise couldn’t smell.

Once done cleaning the graze, she carefully dabbed it dry with a tissue, her actions as tender as before. “I don’t have gauze on me, so it’s best to leave it like this and just be careful.”

“I’d be worried if you did have a roll of gauze on you.”

She laughed again and I wished I could hear that sound forever. “If you knew my friend, it wouldn’t be quite so worrying—I assure you.”

This time I laughed and she still smiled. Such a warm smile.

“I have to say, though, you’re great at basketball. I always wanted to play, but… I got in the way of myself. Well, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all that, so I’ll just be going now.”

She hurried through that last bit so quickly, it only really sank in once she’d already put some distance between us. My mouth moved on its own.

“Gabby!”

Her steps stopped, and she slowly turned around.

---

We went to a nearby cafe, not a word said after we awkwardly settled on where, walking in silence. I didn’t really know how to feel. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. I felt happy. Just, I didn’t know if that was how I was supposed to feel.

Luckily, the cafe had outdoor seating, so I didn’t have to worry about dirtying a nice seat with my sweat. The metal was pretty cold, though. We looked over the menu and she went up to get the drinks despite me protesting. She’d given me a look which stopped me in my tracks—a stern look I had never seen her make before.

Watching her go to the counter, I thought again that she must have definitely changed.

Soon enough, she returned with her tea and my iced tea, easing it down onto the table in front of me. “Thanks,” I said.

She smiled but didn’t say anything as she sat down opposite me.

Whether she felt as awkward as I did, I didn’t know. We both remained silent and sipped at our drinks for a little while either way. Eventually, she brushed some loose hair behind her ear and broke the silence. “Ah, I, well, I know you probably don’t remember, but I did something mean to you a long time ago.”

She stared down at her drink, her hands folded on her lap. I didn’t like the face she made at all. She looked better smiling and laughing—and pouting. I didn’t like seeing her this mix of sad and conflicted and yet reticent.

“So, it’s for my own benefit really, but I hope you’ll let me apologise for—”

“Did they tease you?”

Her composure crumbled, hands crumpling her dress as she grabbed a fistful of fabric and squeezed. She raised her head and had a nicer look on her face now, more flustered, less self-pitying. Her lips quivered before she settled on a word. “But—”

“I forgive you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at me, her eyes wide and open and familiar. Then, she hung her head with a smile. “You haven’t changed,” she whispered.

Pretending I hadn’t heard, I said, “Pardon?”

She took a deep breath, her composure back when she looked back up at me. “You’re still the same as you used to be.”

“Ah, I don’t know what you mean by that,” I said, rubbing the back of my head with my good hand.

Giggling behind her hand, she picked up her drink and then had a sip. “I wonder?”

While I stayed the same, she’d changed into a beautiful woman. I would have felt bad having those kinds of thoughts about her, but she chose to wear such a pretty dress while knowing how she looked, and she chose to give me such a sweet smile. If she hated my thoughts, and they surely showed on my face, then she was welcome to tell me off, but instead she softly blushed and looked into her cup again.

Not wanting the conversation to die off, I asked, “How’ve you been? Got a husband and kids and a big house?”

She didn’t sour, but a bitterness crept into her expression, a distantness. “Ah, that’s…. I found out I couldn’t have children. That didn’t exactly end my first marriage… it didn’t help, either.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Though she laughed, we both knew she didn’t mean it. “That was a long time ago now, so I’ve gotten over it… for the most part.”

Wanting to interrupt this train wreck with another, I asked another poorly thought out question. “You said your first marriage—did you get married again, then?”

She laughed and, this time, she meant it. Shaking her head, she had to tuck loose hair behind her ear again, a smile coming back to her. “It’s more that I’d like to get married again. I didn’t really understand what it meant the first time, if that makes sense. I went into it thinking there’s a husband and there’s a wife and they each have their role. I’m not saying that the divorce was entirely my fault, but that misunderstanding of mine didn’t help matters.”

“I see,” I said, nodding along.

“Ah, sorry. You don’t want to be my therapist, I’m sure,” she said, wincing.

You are reading story Girls’ Love Letters at novel35.com

Rather than play off of her, I had a curiosity I wanted scratched. “Then, what do you want from your next marriage?”

“Ah, this is going to sound strange,” she said, retreating into an adorable smile and blush.

“Perfect. I like to laugh, you know?”

Her shyness broke into another giggle at that. “Yes, I do,” she softly said, before clearing her throat. “Then, I want to marry someone who’s my best friend. Someone I’m happy to spend all day with, and we can lie in bed and talk about our day, and love each other as we are rather than how we think we should be. I…. That does sound strange, doesn’t it? That’s what marriage is supposed to be in the first place. So, saying I want that….”

“You know, that’s what I thought long ago too.”

It took a few seconds for what I said to work its way through her head, then a smile blossomed. “I guess, it is rather childish after all.”

“Can’t you say I was mature for my age instead?”

She broke into laughter again and I wasn’t sure if I should take that as an insult, but I let it slide this time.

When she calmed down, the smile remained, though her eyes looked more reminiscent than present. When she spoke, her tone matched that. “I never forgot about you. In my heart, you’ve always been my precious friend. I know that sounds insincere after how I treated you, but….”

I picked up a tissue and reached over the table, carefully dabbing the corners of her eyes. She didn’t flinch. “I already forgave you.”

She sniffed, letting out a nervous laugh. “Honestly, you’re too good at this, really. Have you spent all this time practising your flirting?”

Smiling to myself, I settled back in my seat. “We were kids. Things like that happen and you don’t know what to do. I understand that. But, you’re nearly forty now, so I won’t forgive you if you do that to me again. Understand?”

“I’m only thirty-eight,” she said, pouting.

When I didn’t reply, she looked up and, well, I guessed I’d changed too. She probably hadn’t seen me with such a serious look on my face.

Gently nodding, she said, “I understand.”

“Great. Then, we can pick up where we left off. If you want to, I mean,” I said, only to be overwhelmed by a mild shyness from having said that.

After all, some part of me had been hurt, thinking she didn’t want to be my friend. Even now, I didn’t know if she wanted to or if she’d just been swept along in the moment. She’d said it was for her peace of mind. Thirty years changed people, I knew. So, it wouldn’t have surprised me if I’d gone too far and she politely excused herself, never to be seen again.

Then her hand rested on top of mine and I looked up to see her smiling. “I’d like that,” she said, squeezing my hand as she did.

“Really?” I asked, only to wince at how desperate that must have sounded.

Taking back her hand, she gently laughed. “To be honest, I came here today to go visit the wishing well again—do you remember it?”

Smiling, I nodded.

“I thought I would come make a wish.”

She stopped there and looked at me as though telling me to ask her what wish she wanted to make, so I obliged. Just, not quite how she wanted me to, probably. “Again? So, you visited it before? What did you wish for then?”

Caught out, she blushed and pouted, trying to scowl at me and failing miserably. “Ah, don’t you want to know why I came today?”

“No, no—tell me about before.”

The mood draining from her, I quickly came to regret my insistence. She didn’t try to avoid the topic again, though, so I had to accept it. “I, I was going to make a very selfish wish, thirty years ago. The other children, even the ones I thought were my friends, were calling me names, and making fun of me. They would say things like, ‘How are two girls supposed to get married?’ and the other girls would pretend I tried to kiss them and run away from me. I didn’t know what to do—just like you said. I didn’t know what to do at all.”

Pausing, she settled herself with a deep breath.

“Rather than talk to you or a teacher or my parents, I thought, that is, I came to the well after school one day. And, I had a pound coin with me. I thought, if you only need a penny for a wish, then a pound would be a hundred times better. So, I stood there, about to drop it in and make my wish… but it was a selfish, horrible wish, so much so I shook and cried.”

Her fists clenched and, for the first time, I saw what her face looked like when she really hated herself. Every muscle seemed to be tensed, her lips pressed tight and yet quivering, brow furrowed and eyes tearing up.

“I… I was… I was going to wish you were a boy. If you were a boy, then everything would be okay. It wouldn’t be strange. I wouldn’t be strange,” she said, softening to a near-whisper by the end.

“But, you didn’t, did you?” I asked.

She shook her head. “When I realised what I was about to wish for, I stopped myself. If, if I was going to wish for something like that, then I should’ve wished I was a boy.”

“Ah, is that why you can’t have kids—you have a, you know?”

Despite the mood, despite trying so hard to keep herself under control, she burst into laughter. Covering her mouth, she laughed so hard she couldn’t even stay upright. She doubled-over onto the table and her shoulders shook with laughter, shaking our cups so they rattled on the saucers, nearly enough to topple them. By the time she managed to stop and sit back up, she had fresh tears in her eyes. Gently, she wiped them away with her hands, before having a final deep breath to bring herself back to normal.

“You’re terrible,” she said with a smile.

“So, is that a yes?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I didn’t make a wish that day, in the end.”

“I see,” I said, rubbing my chin.

Her gaze slipped to the side, expression bittersweet once more. “I decided they wouldn’t say those things if we didn’t play together. Which, I guess, was correct. I thought, maybe in high school. But, as I came to understand things like crushes and love and sexuality, I became confused about what I would do if you were… gay. I worried you might try and kiss me, or that people would start making fun of me again for being your friend.”

The sweetness left her smile.

“When I say it like that, I should’ve wished I could be a better friend, or to not care about what others thought about me. That would’ve actually fixed things, wouldn’t it?”

“Do you remember what I said earlier?”

She hummed, a finger on her lips. “You’ve said a lot of things, so could you be more specific?” she asked.

“I won’t forgive you if it happens again, now we’re adults.”

“Ah, yes, well, those kinds of rumours don’t really exist once you finish school, do they?”

Not willing to look at her, in case she made the kind of face I’d seen on so many other people, I looked across the road at nothing in particular. “It’s not a rumour, now. I am a lesbian.”

With every passing second, my nerves got worse, and worse. After finally making up with her, I didn’t want to part so soon. But, I waited, let her put on a polite expression once whatever reaction she had passed. Then, I looked over to her.

She had a small smile on her face. “Well, you were quite flirty with me earlier.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s how I am around beautiful women. You know me: can’t help myself.”

“That’s true.”

The years had been kind to her, still looking so youthful on the cusp of her forties. Though, we’d only scraped the surface and it sounded like the years hadn’t actually been kind to her at all. Still, as much as she’d changed, she’d stayed the same. She still had a kindness to her, a gentleness, still funny and fun to be with, and beautiful too. Now, she had become even more of a woman I would fall for.

My mouth getting ahead of me, I asked, “Can I pursue you?”

Unsurprisingly, those words stilled her, a mix of confusion and surprise spreading across her face.

“Pursue… doesn’t that sound like I’m running away from you again? What happens if I face you instead?”

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

She laughed at that, tilting her head to the side, settling into a new smile of hers. Something of an adult’s smile, it had a slyness to it. “Today, I came to wish for the chance to apologise to you, but this is how it all turned out before I even had the chance to make it to the well.”

“Sorry, that’s probably my fault.”

“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I made a wish back then, too,” I said. “But, I changed it today.”

“You’re not allowed to change wishes.”

“I think I did, though. It explains why you turned up.”

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “What did you change your wish to then?”

“I wished you would be kind to me again.”

“That’s a rather selfish wish, don’t you think?”

Shrugging, I said, “I’m a pretty selfish person.”

“Ah, yes. I noticed that.”

Smiling to myself, I couldn’t have wished for anything better than this. “So, what’s your answer?” I asked.

“My answer to what?”

I looked her in the eyes, letting her see that serious look of mine again. “Can I pursue you?”

Catching me off guard, she gave quite the reply.

“Only if you promise to catch me if I fall for you.”

You can find story with these keywords: Girls’ Love Letters, Read Girls’ Love Letters, Girls’ Love Letters novel, Girls’ Love Letters book, Girls’ Love Letters story, Girls’ Love Letters full, Girls’ Love Letters Latest Chapter