It's New Year's Eve and I have no one to kiss at midnight. So Hailey and Rachel come over to me and plant a kiss on either side of my cheek. My mom flashes a picture just as it's happening and we all burst into laughter. I tried my hardest to keep my energy up for this because I didn't want to let on how much pain I was in, and how exhausted I was. I was afraid that if it seemed like I was too tired, my family would think I was relapsing or something. When the truth is, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep I had over the last two and a half weeks.
All of the people who came to the New Year's party started to disperse. Afterward, I helped Amanda clean up all of the stuff left over from our fifty guests. "That's disgusting." She exclaims as she holds up a cup filled with 5% beer and 95% throw up. She shudders as she throws it into the trash bag. "So, did you have fun?"
"What? Yeah! Of course!" I tried to put on a smile.
"Really? You weren't thinking of Trevor the whole night?" She puts her hand on her hips and looks at me like she's the queen of Sheba.
"Well, yeah, but I still had fun." I say while throwing more garbage into the trash. "Why don't drunk people throw things away?" I ask while holding up a paper towel with a mysterious yellow color and foul smell.
"Because they're drunk to see the trash can sitting right in front of them." We laugh, then cough because the smell is putrid.
I toss and turn in my old bed all night long. Waking in a panic after having nightmare after nightmare of Trevor dying in some horrible way because of the war. I wake up breathing heavily at 5 in the morning. I just decided to get up and head back to my apartment. I check my mailbox and see that I have a letter from Trevor.
Dearest April,
December 30, 2018.
I just arrived in Afghanistan. I wish I could tell you where I am, but I was told I couldn't. I am bunking with Mikey again. He luckily doesn't snore anymore. I can't believe that I'm here. You wouldn't believe the things we've seen so far. We hear fighter jets soaring in the sky all the time. We hear distant gunfire at random times. I've only been here for a full 24 hours and can already tell the future of this city. I know in a few months this place will be nothing but a pit full of ashes. But at least that means I will get to come home to you.
I suppose you will be starting your new semester in a few days and then your auditions in just a few weeks. Let me know how it goes. I'm excited for you! You got this! I will try to write, call, and video chat every chance I get. I love you so much and I miss you already.
Love,
Trevor F.
I clutch the letter to my chest and sob. I write out a letter for him myself.
Dear Trevor,
January 1, 2019.
Happy New Year my love! I wish you could have been there celebrating with us. I would have loved being your New Year's Kiss. It wasn't the same without you there. I miss you so much. I'm glad you get to bunk with Mikey again. And I'll bet everyone is glad he doesn't snore anymore!
I start my classes on the 6th of this month and I hold auditions on the 10th! I decided to open the auditions up to the University of Fine Arts as well as any dance studios and community theaters. I can't wait to start up my new classes and start teaching this choreography I've been working so hard on. I will let you know the results! I love you and I miss you. Come back home to me safe and sound.
Love,
April Fogharty.
I send in the letter and go back inside.
A few days later, I start up my new classes. I am taking Political Science I, Childhood Development of Psychology, Policies of Foreign Affairs, Psych Stats, and Political History. Every semester gets closer and closer to my major in Political Science of Foreign Affairs. I start up my dance classes a few days after school started back up. It seems a little harder to manage it this year with 16 credits and trying to do an entire showcase of Romeo and Juliet.
Two weeks later and it's audition day. I need 24 more dancers, and I already feel exhausted. There are some promising people who audition. Then, there's a guy from the Fine Arts Academy. He's British, so everyone is obsessed with him and he seems to soak it all up.
"State your name, the character you wish to portray, your age, and dance background." I yell to the stage.
"Christian, 20, Romeo or Mercutio, and I have a background in jazz, hip hop, modern, ballet and ballroom. I also have a background in singing and theater."
"Great. Show us what you got."
Christian dances beautifully to a song called "If I were an Artist." After he is done performing a classical piece, he also dances a hip hop number to a song called "Love Tonight." He's actually really good, and I'd be a fool not to add him to my list. But my best friend from my ballroom days, Anthony is already playing Romeo to my Juliet. So, I thank him and dismiss him off the stage.
"He can be my understudy, and you can write him in for Mercutio." Anthony whispers in my ear.
I put a check mark by his name and continue watching dancer after dancer. Four hours later, and we finally have enough check marks by people's names and who we think they'd be best suited for. Then we write a dash next to people who are okay, but can be used as background dancers and fillers for scenes that need a lot of people. At the end of the auditions, I receive a call from a long distance number.
I race out the doors of the auditorium and answer it. "Hello?" I say out of breath.
"April? Oh, thank God. I need to hear your voice." Trevor answered on the other line. His voice sounded cold and distant.
"Is everything okay?" I ask.
"No." The line is silent. Then he starts back up again. "It's bad, babe." He lets out a shaky breath. I can tell he's crying.
"What happened?" I ask, scared.
"It's Mikey." He lets out a sob. He finally continues. "We were rolling through a town on the convoy and we hit a mine. The Truck flipped and tossed Mikey out. April, he's hurt bad. They aren't sure if he's gonna make it. They shipped him off to some fancy hospital in Germany. I don't know how to do this without him. I just needed to hear your voice." He lets out another sob.
I don't know how to respond to this news. I am just relieved that it's not Trevor. Not my husband fighting for his life. Not my husband being shipped to Germany. Not my husband who isn't making it back home. I suddenly feel a hint of guilt rising in me. "I'm so sorry hon. What can I do?"
"Just... tell me how the auditions went." He responded, still sounding really distant.
"Great. They just ended."
"Anyone stand out to you?" He asked, trying to get his mind on this instead of Mikey.
"Yeah. This guy Christian was really good. It's just too bad he's so full of himself." I pause. "He'd actually make a fantastic Romeo if Anthony hadn't already been working with me the past few weeks. But he could make a great understudy and Mercutio."
"That's great, hon." There's a bunch of static on the other line. "I- go-love-"
"What?"
"I have to go, my love. I'm getting an air raid." Then just like that, the line cuts dead. I didn't even have time to say good bye or that I love him.
One month later, I receive a very heart breaking letter from Trevor.
Dear April,
February 10th, 2019.
Happy Valentine's Day, my love. I wish I could be there to love you and take you out on a date. But I am writing you this letter to deliver some bad news. We got word that Mikey didn't make it. He had to have his leg fully amputated and then he got a really bad infection and died from the infection. It wasn't even the mine that killed him, or the truck landing on top of him. It was a stupid infection! How stupid is that?
Anyway, his funeral is going to be the 21st of this month. Go support his fiance. She seemed to really like you. I hope your showcase is doing well. I love you. I miss you.
Trevor.
I can see spots on the page where his tears fell. My heart feels broken for him. I hate that I'm stuck here while he is stuck god-knows-where. I write back to him:
Dear Trevor,
February 13, 2019.
Happy Valentine's Day to you too, love. I am so sorry you are going through this. Of course I will attend his funeral. I will try to reach out to Maggie beforehand. Please, stay safe out there. I feel so stupid writing to you about my classes, dance, and the showcase. Nothing I do here can even compare to what you're doing over there. Just know that there is an entire town cheering for you, praying for you, and wishing you well. I love you so much. You better come home to me Trevor Fogharty.
Love,
April.
I don't receive any news from him or anyone else for four weeks. No phone calls. No video chats. Not even a letter. Then March 21st at 10 pm. I receive a call from an unknown number.
"Hello?"
"April?" I hear Trevor's voice on the other side of the line. "I'm coming home."