Thirty-One Letters

Two

The display of grief makes more demands than grief itself. How few men are sad in their own company—Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Hadley pulled the car to a stop next to her home. She lived in a bright blue bungalow that was situated right on the beach. The house had been in her family for generations, which was the only reason that they could afford it. Her grandfather had inherited the house from his father and then it had gotten passed down to her father. One day, if she wanted it, it would be hers.

It was a quaint house, with two small bedrooms and one medium-sized one and a single bathroom. The living room was decorated with various items that had either been locally made or picked up from flea markets across the state or else had been collected right off the beach, like the 'stop' sign that had once shown up buried in the sand after a bad storm or the huge accumulation of shells that Hadley and Tanner had gathered as children.

The second best thing about the house, the first being that it was right on the beach, was that it was only a five-minute walk away from Mercer's Pier, which was where the town held a summer fair every year. She and Tanner had gone annually from the time they were babies. If she could stomach it, this would be the first year that Hadley would be going without him.

She climbed out of the car and jogged up the steps towards the porch.  There was nobody home—she knew that before she even opened the door. Her father's car was missing, as was her mother's bicycle. Her father was probably at the surf shop he owned downtown. She had no idea where her mother could be.

Hadley shoved her key into the lock and wiped her feet on the welcome mat— which cheekily read 'Whalecome' with a little caricature of a blue whale—and opened the door.

Inside, the house was very much characteristic of a beach house. The walls were a light powdery blue with calming sandalwood flooring. The front entry opened into a full living room equipped with a couch and loveseat set that faced the television in the corner and had a beautiful view of the ocean.

It was an open concept floor plan and the living room merged seamlessly into the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen was state-of-the-art with stainless steel appliances and tons of granite counter and dark wood cabinet space. The high-tech kitchen was a necessity for Hadley's mother, Karen, who operated a catering business out of their little home.

Hadley walked through the house towards her room. The floor creaked softly and she cringed, the sound loud and unforgiving. She paused, as she always did, before entering her bedroom. The door to the room directly across from hers was closed but she could see its exact layout and all of the room's contents whenever she closed her eyes.

Deep blue walls. A Rip Curl surfboard propped against the dresser. Sports trophies littered on a shelf above the desk and medals lining the walls. Photos of Tanner and Hadley with their friends or just the two of them alone. But, everywhere, an image of happiness and well-being. It was not the sort of room that a suicidal person lived in.

Hadley took a deep breath and fought back the bile that was rising in her throat. Sometimes, thinking of Tanner made her sick. The idea that he had been suffering quietly for who only knows how long...Hadley just couldn't fathom why he wouldn't come to her. Why he didn't tell her that he was miserable. If he had, maybe things could have ended up differently.

She didn't know. What she did know was that hated that he hadn't come to her. And that he'd thought killing himself was a viable solution. But above all, she was devastated that she'd failed to save his life.

Hadley hadn't been into his room since the day that he'd died. She remembered being in his room that night he killed himself. He'd been sitting on his bed and she was pacing in agitation. She'd had a test the next day and she was worried about it. He'd been calming her down, promising that they'd go surfing in the morning to destress.  They'd been talking...