Crashing Into Blue

Chapter 11

The next morning I'm woken up by the light filtering through the curtains and by an envelope hitting me square in the face.

"Letter from Davis," mutters Indigo.

I rub the sleep out of my eyes and push myself up onto the pillow. I feel around the bed for the envelope, and find it mixed in with the covers. I see my full name written in symmetrical block letters in black ink. I rip open the envelope, and I pull out a page of familiar cream stationary, containing more black ink and block letters. I look over to Indigo, who's already opened her message and is sitting on her bed across from me, intently watching.

"What does he want? It's not our birthday or the holidays. This is a bit unusual."

Davis, our dad, is more like a pen pal than a parental figure; I'm more familiar with his writing than his voice. I'm not even sure what his voice truly sounds like, since when reading his letters it's dictated in my own tone, and when he calls on our birthdays it's distorted through the phone. I sometimes wonder what his laugh sounds like, when it's genuine and bursts right out of him unexpectedly.

"He wants to talk about our futures," Indigo says sarcastically. "Even though our futures have been happening all along. Oh, and he included a photo of the family."

Indigo holds a heavy grudge against our dad; even with how close we are, Davis is a touchy subject (tread upon at your own risk, kind of deal). Even though she's never said it aloud, I feel that she thinks that he left us. It's true that he never chased after our trio when we left, but he didn't cut off all contact completely. He's been sending these letters to us since we were old enough to read them, and he's always called on our birthdays and Christmas. Indigo always says that I'm too soft, that I'm quick to see the good in all and quick to ignore the bad. But the guy is paying for our post-secondary education in full, so how bad can he be?

I turn my attention to the page between my fingers. As I unfold it, a photo falls into my lap. I pick it up, and look at the three smiling faces beaming up at me. I put it aside while I read my letter. I feel Indigo's eyes on me, waiting to gage my reaction. When I finish, I put the letter over top the picture, hiding familiar brown eyes.

"So?" Indigo asks me.

"He wants to see us," I say with some disbelief creeping into my voice. I barely have any memories of Davis in the flesh, just flashes of fall colours and the sound of twigs snapping beneath my feet, snapshots of another life that could have been.

"I know! It's like he thinks he can just summon us or something," Indigo says with a huff.

"He's not summoning us Indigo, he knows we're going to Juilliard in the fall and he's asking to meet up with us at the end of the summer to help us get settled in, I guess. It's not that absurd considering he lives in New York."

"Are you actually considering doing this?"

"I'm not considering anything Indi, I'm literally summarizing what he said in his letter."

"Well, summarize this: Not going to happen."

"No? Nada? Never? Forget it?"

Indi tosses a pillow at me, and gets up off her bed.

"You're really annoying you know that, right?" she says as she walks out of our room.

"It's my best quality!" I yell back at her.

"I'm not arguing with that!" she says through the door.