Page 114 of Big Sexy Love
‘What the hell is this?’ he says angrily, holding the papers up intheair.
I stand up too. ‘Wh-what is it? What’swrong?’
Chuck shakes his head. ‘You think this isfunny?”
I blink, completely confused. ‘I don’t understand,’ I try. ‘What’s thematter?’
Chuck looks me up and down furiously. ‘I’ll have someone call a speedboat to come and collect you as soon as your clothes are dry. You are no longer a guest on myyacht.’
Chuck screws up the papers of Birdie’s letter and throws them onto the floor, storming across the room. Before he leaves he whips around and takes one last angry look at me. ‘You really are a menace. Get out ofNewYork!’
As he slams the door behind him, I bend down to pick up Birdie’s letter with shakinghands.
I starttoread…
DearChuck,
Ijust wantedto say that you were a real dick of a boyfriend. I loved you. And you let me love you so that your parents wouldn’t find out you were gay!! If you’d have told me, I’d have been happy to beard for you! I am cool like that. Or I could have helped you to come out to them when you were ready. But you let me fall in love with you. And you let me believe that you were straight. That you loved me too. That we would go to England, to university together. That sucks. And for me to find out the truth by walking in on you with my next door neighbour Quiet Bruce who turned out not to be so quiet at all? That was not cool, Chuck. Not. Cool. You were an asshole. I bet you are still an asshole. I hope not. But I betyouare.
ANYWAY. This whole thing is not about you. Please pass this letter back to my friend Olive who I am assuming is somewhere nearby. The next letter isforher.
Bye bye, Chuck. Behappy.
Ihalf laughin complete disbelief and quickly pull out the next sheet of paper. It’s covered in Olive’s loopy messyhandwriting.
Olive,
Thereyouare.
Hey.
Don’t be mad at me! Oh god, you’re going to be so mad at me, I know. But let meexplain.
Okay, so I kind of tricked you into going to New York. But it wasn’t meant to be a mean trick. It was meant to be amagicalgift.
As you know, I won’t be here for a great deal more time. I know you get sad when I’m so upfront about it, but I’ve made my peace with what’s happening. I promise you. I’ve had a gorgeous life. I really, really have. I’ve travelled, I’ve loved, I’ve laughed ’til I peed my pants (mostly thanks to you) and cried until my nose was so blocked I could barely breathe, I’ve had heartbreaks and fights and scary times and joyful times. I’ve lived. I’ve reallylived!
And I got to know you. I was so alone when I moved to Manchester. I was supposed to be here with Chuck, I was wrestling with this shitty illness and I didn’t have anyone. And then you happened. And you loved me. Right away you loved me. You welcomed me into your life and let me talk at you for hours, helped me plot my adventures, rant about daft men, sat with me in hospital waiting rooms, introduced me to Kit Kats dipped in tea and bought me cool iridescent Band-Aids so that my blood draw marks were stylishly covered. You’ve been my sidekick since the day we met, no questions asked, no mugging for the spotlight. And, I’ll be honest, I’ve loved every minute of it. As you knew Iwould.
But now I have other plans (maybe we should pretend that I’m just going on a long holiday???) and I wonder about you. What will you do? Who will you be? Because the truth is, Brewster, as much as I adore you, I can see you’re not happy. And I know you never want to talk about you, to talk about your shitty parents and all that worrying you do. But this is my letter. And you have to read it. So I’m gonna say what I need to say. Sothere.
My darling, you’re living a half-life. I’m sorry if this sounds harsh. I don’t mean to throw shade on your whole existence – I love you. But you are so much more than you think. You don’t see how much you shine. But I do. I always have. You are a diamond-covered sunshine, dude. You’re so comical and kind in a sophisticated non-martyrish way. Underneath all that scared demeanour is a total badass. I’m sure of it! And that’s why I sent you onthistrip.
I couldn’t give a shit about Chuck Allen (don’t be mad!!). Because Chuck Allen is not my Big Sexy Love. You are, Olive Brewster. You’re my Big Sexy Love! My best buddy. My favourite person. The love I have for you is so much more epic than I’ve had for any boyfriend. And that’s why, in a totally cruel-to-be-kind way, I forced you into going to New York under a misapprehension. I knew you wouldn’t ever do anything like this without some serious forcing. And what works more than a dying wish? Nothing, that’s what! I have all of the power, muu haaa (how do you spell the evil laugh? You get what I mean,right?).
So. You’re due to arrive here at the hospital for a visit in less than an hour and I feel giddy at the thought of my big sneaky plan being put into motion. It’s the most excited I’ve felt in years. You see, New York is the greatest city in the world for someone like you. I know that just by being in NYC, by being terrified and thrown in at the deep end, you’ll find adventure. Because that’s what New York does. It gets under your skin! It drives you a little crazy! And sending you off on a wild goose chase seems like a good idea to me right now. I had a lot of medicine this morning though, so I’m a littlebithigh…
Shit. I hope this is the right idea. I hope you see some eye-opening things (the view from the roof at the Airbnb I’ve booked is insane! I hope you see that! The amount of people openly taking craps on the sidewalk is also insane in a different way – I hope you don’t see that). I dearly hope you meet some interesting people. I hope that by doing this you will see how much you shine. Because I won’t be here to keep telling you. And you needtoknow.
You are destined for great things, mydarling.
I can’t wait to see you when yougetback.
Don’t be mad at me. You can’t be mad at a sick person. It’s against therules.
All my loveforever,
YourBirdie.
