I didn’t thinkKevin meant tonight. We pack a small bag, toss our letters inside a side pocket, and steal some snacks from the kitchen before heading out to the car. The drive is long, and it lets me get lost in my head. Kevin reaches a hand over to steady my shaking knee.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just nervous.”
“About?”
What am I not nervous about? That’s probably a shorter list. “Nothing specific, I guess. Nothing and everything.”
“It’s not about earlier, is it?”
I shake my head. God, no. Earlier was incredible. It’s that I can’t be in that moment anymore. I still have to fight back the demons in my mind. I have to focus on the trees lining both sides of the road and the sun shining through the windshield, sending colors dancing in the reflection.
Kevin turns onto a long dirt road. I sit up and look around as the trees shield the sun, making the world around us eerily dark. Gravel crunches under the tires as he pulls up to a small brown cabin overlooking the water. My jaw drops as I look at the beauty around us.
I climb out of the car, shivering at the cooler temperatures beneath the shade. Kevin gets out, grabs a jacket from the backseat, and tosses it at me. I put it on and zip it up. I grab the bag, and he leads me toward the door.
“Do you own this?” I ask as I run my hand along the screen door.
“My mom does. As long as she isn’t using it, I can.”
He unlocks the door and pushes his weight into it. The door opens with a creak, and we walk into the cabin. It’s one room, pretty much.
A full-sized bed adorned with flannel sheets stands against one wall. A couch sits in front of a large window overlooking the river. The room smells like cedar and dust.
Kevin goes over and lifts a stiff, old blanket, exposing a few logs of wood beside the fireplace. “No one replenished the wood. Of course.” He reaches into a closet and grabs an ax. He twists it and lifts it against his shoulder. “Be right back.”
Kevin disappears outside, the screen door banging shut behind him. I place my bag on the bed and pick up a picture frame from the nightstand. In the photo, an olive-complected woman with waves of thick black hair smiles at the camera. She’s clearly related to Kevin because she shares some of his features. His mom, maybe?
The sound of an ax breaking through wood reaches my ears, and I go to the window to watch Kevin. His muscles flex as he raises the ax above his head before bringing it down on the wood in a smooth motion. It splits in half with ease. Rather, he makes it look easy. He wipes sweat from his brow as the pile beside him grows. He strips off his sweater and ties it around his waist. The sleeves of his T-shirt rise up his arms with every swing.
Why is this the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen?
His cheeks puff as he sends a final blow into a log, splitting it in two. He lifts the ax once more and slams it into the wooden table, leaving it sticking out in case he needs it again. Kevin reaches down and scoops up the cut logs and carries them inside, placing them beneath the blanket. He rubs his hands together before shoving a few pieces inside the fireplace and lighting it. Flames lick at the wood, blackening it as they climb each log.
“Why are you so quiet?” I ask.
“It’s the first time I’ve been here in a very long time. Just a lot of memories.” He sits beside me on the couch. “You brought the letters, right?”
I get up and unzip the bag, grabbing the papers from the pocket. I carry them like they’re made of glass. I can’t allow the secrets to escape the pages. I need to see them burn.
“I want to do these last,” I tell him as I grab the two balled-up letters I wrote. I hand the rest to Kevin.
He picks up his letter to his mom, leans toward the fire, and lets the flames race along the edge of the paper. “I’m going to visit you.” He uses that flame to light his other letter. “I’m going to forgive myself and let go of my guilt.”
The flame dances in his dark eyes as he watches them for a moment before tossing them into the fire pit. He picks up his balled-up letter and holds it between his cupped hands. His lip quivers as he brings it to his mouth and kisses it.
“Goodbye for good this time,” he says as he tosses it into the fireplace. His eyes gloss over, but he leans back and fights away any tears.
We sit in silence for a moment before I pick up my letters. I try to mimic him by saying goodbyes to them.
I grab the letter to my parents and hold it up. “I’m—” My words catch in my throat. It’s difficult and feels unnatural. I don’t think I really believe in this. “I’m going to accept that neither of you will change. I won’t let myself be hurt again.”
I light the corner of the letter on fire. The paper dissolves into ash in my hand. The words erase in front of my eyes, becoming dust. I pick up the other letter and look at it, seeing the word you in big, bold letters.
“I won’t be a victim anymore. I won’t let you continue to haunt me.” I light the letter with the other, just as Kevin did. “You are nothingness. You can’t hurt me anymore.”
The words which spilled my pain onto paper disappear. My secrets became a tangible thing to hold in my hand, and now they burn. I can almost hear the scream of the memories as the fire ingests them. I watch until the flame inches too close to my flesh and toss the burning paper into the fireplace once every word is gone. I cup the two crumpled letters on my lap and hold them.
“These are secrets too dark to be shared. They plague me the most. The ones I’m too ashamed to show you. Too ashamed they exist, even in this form.” I toss them into the fire and watch as the paper tries to unravel. Blackness overtakes them, which is fitting. “Fuck you all,” I say as a tear slips past my cheek.
Kevin has a small smile on his face. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
I scoff. I don’t know what I feel. The spaces in my head inhabited by shame and guilt stand vacant now. I feel lighter. An acceptance that was never there before takes their place. I feel a sense of power and control. The papers whistle a final time before becoming one with the flame.