Dear Ex-Girlfriend

The single piece of paper in front of me was blank. It was the only thing the oak desk carried, if you wouldn’t count my left hand and the poised pen I was holding, tapping on the wood.

I sighed and leaned back on the chair. The curtains had started to billow, bringing with it the warm summer breeze and smell of freshly mowed lawn. Ah. . . To be a June bride. Which brings me to my duties.

The paper was still blank when I returned to it. That was drawback of having no powers. Even if you stared at it the whole day like what I’ve been doing, your wedding vows wouldn’t magically write itself.

“Destiny?” Ester called from outside the room. She knocked on the door twice. “Destiny, you better be finishing that.”

“Go away,” I said. “I’m sleeping.”

“You wedding is tomorrow.”

“So what? I’m not allowed to sleep?”

I could imagine her shaking her head and folding her arms. She’d expect her brother to act like this. Not me.

Pity the door was locked. Pity she wouldn’t be able to barge in here and tell me what to do. Nyahahaha! One point for Destiny.

“I never said you can’t sleep,” Ester scoffed. “Of course, you can. After you make your vows.”

It was just like her to put an emphasis on what she wanted to be done. She had a lifetime of training with Spencer.

“Okay. Okay,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Sheesh! Can’t a bride have some peace around here?”

There was a pause.

“You’ll get it tomorrow.” Her voice was softer. “Now finish what you’re supposed to do. I’m going back after an hour to check on you. Be prepared.”

Her footsteps receded on the hallway.

I groaned and leaned my forehead against the table after she was gone. Did she think it was easy? Psh! For her, maybe. She’d written scientific journals and contributed to the greater good. Heck, she was giving a speech about climate change when I called to say I was getting married. A wedding vow was nothing to her. She’d finish it in five minutes’ tops and would have enough time to save baby dolphins.

I snorted at the thought.

Typical. Very typical.

The curtain caressed my face as another breeze came in. I turned my head to the single bed on my right. The quilt cover was fraying on the edges. It’s been around for as long as the other things inside the room— the brown dresser, the ceiling fan, the once white carpet, the Destiny’s Child posters.

A smile crept to my face. Way back then, we were so addicted to them, we knew their songs by heart.

Yup. Even Spencer.

My gaze traveled the length of the room some more, then went back to the dresser. The two wooden puppets sitting on top of it stared back at me.

“Aren’t you glad we’re home?” I whispered.

They didn’t answer. They never did.

Propping myself up, I breathed in before turning to the paper. My eyes squinted. My palms fisted. I clenched my teeth and grunted. God, I felt constipated.

But it was worth a shot. Maybe I’d discover I had powers after all. No one could see me anyway.

The distinct sound of a lawn mower revving made its way to my ears. Crap. The people next door was doing their afternoon routine. Which means there was barely any time left. Which means I sucked. Which means my life was over.

I ruffled my hair. This wouldn’t do. I was too preoccupied.

I stared at the puppets again. Boy and Girl hadn’t budged an inch from the dresser, yet by the way they gaped at me, it felt like they were aware of my thoughts.

“Don’t give me that look. I need to make my wedding vows.”

A sudden gust of wind came in, tilting Boy’s head sideward.

I pursed my lips. “You think I should resolve my issues first, don’t you?”

Another gust of warm wind, and Girl’s head nodded forward.

I lifted my hands and shrugged. “Fine. You guys win. But just so we’re clear, this is a one-time thing. You’re not the boss of me.”

Scowling, I dragged my chair closer to the table. Ester had always been the thinker of our group. Spencer was the doer. Me? I liked letters. Been sending it to someone for a long time.

I poised the pen to the paper. The vows should be my main concern, but forget about that for a second. Forget about the wedding. Forget about the gown that was waiting for me in the other room, or the busy guests preparing downstairs. There was something I had to do first. A closure.

They said that writing anything was easy, especially a letter. They said that you only had to gather your thoughts and put it on paper. To me it was a bit different. Anything that would allow me to expose myself was savage.

Bracing myself, I slit my wrist and began to bleed. That was the only metaphor I could think of.

Dear Ex-Girlfriend, I wrote.

June, 2002

The alarm clock was beginning to beep when I slammed my palm against the button. The covers were thrown off. One of my socks was missing when I swung my feet off the bed.

I took a quick glance to the window and smiled wolfishly. It was still dark out. Still too early. First day of summer, here I come!

After brushing my teeth in record time and finding my missing sock, I crept out of the room, ninja style. Across the hall, dad’s door was closed. There were no lights coming from the crack. His snores were loud enough to wake the neighbors. If we had neighbors.

I made it down the stairs without a problem, all thanks to the Converse I had on. After begging dad to buy it for ages, he finally surrendered and gave it yesterday. Not bad for a 10th birthday present. Not bad at all.

I checked my surroundings, deciding what to do. There wasn’t much to look at. After the stairs, there were a few steps to reach the kitchen and dining room. After the kitchen, you could cartwheel to the living room. Other kids would wish for a bigger crib with a pool and a garden. But this was more than enough for us. There was only dad and me.

Going to the kitchen, I grabbed an apple from the table and took a bite. Next stop, the living room.

My backpack was sitting innocently on the sofa when I came in. It was heavy when I lifted it to my shoulder.

It wasn’t heavy yesterday. I made sure to donate all my books to the library before leaving school. I mean, academics was great and all, as Ester would say. But in summer? That wasn’t fly. That was child abuse, as Spencer would say.

I perched the bag on the couch rest and unzipped it to check what was inside. The apple dropped from my hand.

“Boy! Girl!” I squealed.

I froze and checked the hallway. Great going, dufus. Now Dad would wake up and think robbers broke into the house.

After making sure that he wasn’t coming down, I turned back to the bag and took the puppets out. There they were. Boy and Girl, my best of friends.

Long, long, ago, before the members of Destiny’s Child were fetuses, my grandfather’s grandfather was a puppeteer in Ireland. Together with his team, he traveled the world while performing, then later settled in the States. Not only did he pass his porcelain Irish skin and light reddish hair to us, the art of puppeteering was also handed-down.

Dad courted mom using his puppetry skills. He’d make models from small woods and let them perform in front of her. Boy and Girl were one of his many creations. The special thing about them was mom pitched in with the design. They were both planning to give it to me, but since that wasn’t possible anymore, I just make sure to take care of them like they were real people.

“When did you guys get back?” I hugged the puppets to my chest, then pulled them back so I could see if they were alright.

A week ago, while Ester, Spencer, and I were at school, my backpack strap got caught on a loose bolt on the stairs railing. We were on the third floor when that happened. I could only watch from above as the backpack containing Boy and Girl dropped to the ground.

Ester said they’d be fine. Spencer patted me on the back and offered me condolences.

But I wasn’t giving up on my babies. I gave them to dad and pestered him to use his puppetry magic to revive Boy and Girl.

All he said was. “The materials used for them are special. We don’t have it here. If you want them to be alright again, I have to ship them to my friend in the city.”

“But daaaaad! You’re a puppeteer.”

“My grandfather was a puppeteer. Not me.” He brushed his calloused hand over his face. “I’m a woodcraftsman. That’s what puts food on our table.”

I pouted at him. “So use your wood. We have a whole shop of them next door.”

The store was what made our house small. Dad divided the lot to accommodate his woodworking office, the materials, and the handcrafted pieces he was selling. Sometimes, on the weekends, I could hear him and his employees working on a project next door. It was oddly comforting.

He tousled my hair. “They won’t be gone long. Boy and Girl will be here before you know it.”

I guess he was going to surprise me yesterday but had forgotten about it.

With a smile, I checked the puppets and nodded to myself. Boy and Girl were what you called marionets. They had slim limbs and movable joints, held back by strings. While Boy had blue hair, Girl had red hair. Both were wearing jean jumper suits and black shoes.

I returned them inside the bag carefully, as careful as I would an egg. I’ve broken them once. I’d never part with them again.

Taking the backpack, I bent for the fallen apple and headed to the door. Dad would kill me when he finds out I left the house at five o’clock. But Ester and Spencer told me to meet them early. They wouldn’t let me live it down if I was a no-show.

Welcome to Bear Creek falls. A town where there were no falls, and definitely no bears. I didn’t know where we got the name. But it sounded fly, so I wasn’t complaining.

The chilly morning touched my face as I stepped out of the house. And by the time I closed the door, I was straight on shivering. But never you worry. In a few minutes when the sun comes out, the place would be as hot as a microwave oven. Close. That’s why people here didn’t wear anything other than t-shirts, tank tops, jeans, or shorts. It was summer all year round.

After walking a couple of blocks, I stopped in front of the bakery. Its light was on, and the sign on the door said that it was open.

I took a deep sniff and closed my eyes. Warm and tasty cinnamon rolls were waiting for me on the other side. What was I still doing here?

The chimes hanging on the door tinkled when I came in. And Bertha, the English woman who owned the place, sauntered to me with her cap and apron on. “Good morning, Destiny,” she said. “Too early, innit? Did your papa ask you to run an errand?”

My eyes went from her big waist, to her reprimanding smile, to the mustache on her upper lip. “So bushy,” I murmured.

“Pardon?”

I shook out of my trance and gave her a sheepish smile. “Dad didn’t ask me for anything.”

Bertha studied me for a moment before bending down, her thick mustache ruffling with every exhale. “I see,” she said. “The wee kid is not supposed to be out of bed.”

My heart skipped when she stopped. Her eyes were leveled to mine.

A grin broke on her face. “This is our secret, yeah?”

My shoulders relaxed. “Yeah.”

Too many cinnamon rolls later, I finally got out of the bakery. Bertha had insisted on feeding me before I go. Said I was too thin.

If I didn’t know any better, she did that because everyone in Bear Creek felt sorry for me. I was one of the few kids who didn’t have a mom. Dad tried hard to be both parents, but people from the outside wouldn’t really understand.

When I rounded the street I was supposed to go, the first thing I noticed was the twins, standing beside each other. They saw me heading their way and waved. I waved back.

“We should have met at five something,” Spencer said when I reached them. He brushed his dark hair away to show he was irritated, but the excited gleam on his brown eyes gave him away.

Ester, who looked uncannily like him even though they were fraternal twins, tugged my arms. “It is five something,” she told her brother. She looked worried as she turned to me. “Did your dad catch you sneaking off?”

“No, but Bertha did.”

The twins glanced at each other.

“I’ll tell you about it inside.” I handed the bag of bread to Spencer. “Here. Bertha sends her love.”

He wrinkled his nose for a second, then shrugged and grabbed a bread from the bag.

Spencer’s mouth was stuffed when we came inside the junk shop. He only remembered to ask his sister for some after the third bite. “Wanna?”

Ester showed her pink braces to him and shook her head. “That’s bad for the teeth.”

“Dawg, it’s bread.”

“Sweet bread.”

Spencer glanced at me for confirmation. “Still bread, right dawg?”

“Stop saying that word,” Ester complained. “Dawg is so 90’s. It’s 2002.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” I said. “And the bread.”

Spencer beamed. “See? Destiny is my dawg.”

“I take it back,” I said. “Don’t call me dawg. It’s like saying beeotch. I’m not a beeotch.”

“Buzz kill.”

Ester waved to us from her chair. They’ve prepared it beforehand and had set three in the middle of the junk shop. It was the only part that was untouched by metals and scraps. You could say that it was an organized chaos in here. If dad ran a woodworking store, Ester and Spencer’s parents, The Gonzales, owned this junk shop. There were more scraps at the back of their house, but that didn’t matter for now.

Spencer and I sat on our dedicated chairs. I glanced away from the crumbs on his lips. Bertha had fed me too many. It was making me dizzy.

“Have you heard the news?” Ester began. She was more updated with gossip compared to me and Spencer. Not that she sought it personally. Being an assistant librarian gave her access. Nobody ever paid attention to a kid listening.

“Nope,” I said. “Whassup?”

She leaned forward, a gleam on her eyes like Spencer would get. If he was excited with pranks and mischief, she was excited with sharing information, whether it be knowledge or not.

“The Morgan’s are moving in.”

“Or moving back,” Spencer added. He licked his fingers.

“What do you mean?” I said. “Morgan’s who?” It was a small town. I would have heard of the name, especially if they had children.

Ester changed her mind and snatched the bread bag from Spencer. She took a piece before speaking. “The Morgan’s are your neighbor’s.”

My eyes almost crossed as I stared hard at her. “You mean that broken property to our left?”

“The one after that. The mansion.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.” Ester took a big bite from her bread. “I heard their family left a decade ago. Now they’re coming back.” She looked pleased with herself as she chewed. “You know what else I heard? I heard they have a child our age.”

“I hope it’s a boy,” Spencer butted in. “Both of you smells like flowers. It’s making my nose itch.”

I didn’t say it out loud, but I wished it was a girl. Spencer and Ester were great friends. We’ve known each other forever. But it would be really cool to have another girl friend. Someone I could share secrets with the way the twins could. Someone I could just be.