Page 105 of Canadian Boyfriend

I wonder, though, if time sands down the square edges that seem so painfully sharp now. I honestly don’t know. I hope so, for my sake as well as yours.

Thanks for writing. I loved getting your letter.

—Aurora

Dear Aurora,

I do care about you. And I did hurt you. All this time, I’ve been expecting everything to be on my terms, on my schedule. I’m sorry.

I think you’re right, that my brain is having trouble holding contradictory truths. How’d you get so wise?

—Mike

Dear Mike,

I don’t know that I’m that wise! In a lot of ways, I’m still that girl who’s never been to a school dance. I’m just trying to learn, to get better. You are, too. I know this about you. I’ve seen you doing it.

So if I’m wise, you are, too. Or maybe it’s not that complicated; maybe we’re just trying our best to get smarter, to be better. It’s hard work, isn’t it?

—Aurora

Dear Aurora,

I wouldn’t say you’ve never been to a school dance.

—Mike

Dear Mike,

Touché. I should have said I never went to a school dance WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL. You were my first and only date to a school dance.

—Aurora

Dear Aurora,

I wouldn’t say only. You never know. Olivia’s got a lot of years ahead of her in school, and I’m still on the chaperone list.

Yours,

Mike

Dear Mike,

Name the date. Name the school. I will be there.

Love,

Aurora

Dear Aurora,

So, I don’t know what to say now, except that I wish I had a school dance I could invite you to. Waiting until next spring for Olivia’s seems too long. Because I think the sharp edges have worn down—kind of alarmingly fast, actually.

I love you to Alpha Centauri and back,

Mike

That last letter did not arrive via the mail, as the others had. It had been put through Gretchen’s mail slot, but at a time—a Wednesday morning at nine—much too early for the mail. And it didn’t have a stamp on it, or an address—just my namescrawled in Mike Martin’s familiar angular handwriting. And inside, oh, that sign-off: “I love you to Alpha Centauri and back.”

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