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Todd Anderson
The letters were written in neat, cursive letters, it’s his mother’s handwriting. Todd’s hands run over the neat and unwrinkled brown wrapping of the package. He already knew exactly what it was, the size and shape we’re all to familiar to him. As much as he hoped for his 18th birthday maybe he would get something else, like a new book he wanted or anything but this, he knew he mostly likely wouldn’t. And he didn’t.
He silently pulled the card out that was tucked under the string. His name was once again neatly written on it, and it was once again his mother’s handwriting. He opened the card like it would say something different than last year.
His eyes glanced silently over the words. It was the exactly same letter as last year, just saying 18 instead of 17. Not a single mention of him now being an adult or anything. He couldn’t even be mad, it was his fault for expecting something different in the slightest.
Todd silently grabs either end of the bow tied with that white and red striped string and pulls, watching as the bow silently and smoothly comes undone. He moved the string away off to the side of his desk. His desk on the left side of the room.
He never sat at the empty desk on the right side of the room, even if he didn’t have a roommate and Neil had been… gone for almost a year, he never sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to. The only thing that sat on the desk was the copy of the script to a midsummers night. He had learnt every word to it last year so he could help Neil practice.
Neil. Todd missed Neil so much. The memories of his last birthday replay in his mind once again like they already had so much today.
Todd brings his attention back to the package, once again running his hands silently over brown paper wrapping. Todd gently pulls at the folded corner of it, picking at the tape. He never ripped wrapping like most of the people he knew did, like Neil did- had, instead Todd always took it off meticulously and carefully. It takes a minute but he managed to get the wrapping off and be silently lifts it off.
He was right, he hadn’t needed to open it to know that. It was another desk set.
He stared at it silently, quickly bringing a hand up to wipe away the tears that had began to water in his eyes but hadn’t quite fallen yet. He wasn’t almost crying because he was sad his parents have gotten him the same thing, even the same letter, they had for four years now. He was almost- no now he just was- crying because he didn’t have Neil here with him, Neil to convince him to throw the desk set over the wall, Neil who stood next to him and watched as the papers floated in the air.
The tears continue to flow as much as he desperately tries to wipe them away, his breathing getting shakier and the tears flowing faster. He missed Neil so much. So much.
He wished he had Neil here now. Neil would give him a hug, Neil would tell him to just throw the damn aerodynamic desk set again.
Aerodynamic desk set
The words echo in his head. Tears still dripping from his eyes, he grabs the desk set. He walks out of his room, through the common area. Todd ignores Meeks and Pitts who sit around the radio, that they had fixed last year but always seemed to have more issues to be fixed, in the common area asking him if he’s okay, quickly walking right past them. He walks outside, and he stands exactly where he stood last year.
His hands are shaky as he grips the desk set. Neil had made him feel so much better about this last year. And now Neil was dead. Neil was dead. Charlie was expelled. Mr Keating was fired. And a year ago he was sad over the fact his parents got him the same desk set, unaware of what was to come in the next few months. Still, that memory with Neil was one of his favorite, every word Neil had said that day forever persevered in his mind. Neil made him feel so much better. He always did.
Todd stared at the desk set for a moment more before lifting his eyes up, over the short wall, and to the view in front of him. It was dark out like it was last year, the same ‘far too warm for this late into the year’ weather as last year. He doesn’t stop to wipe his tears again, there isn’t a point.
He grips the desk set tighter, not bothering to look down at it for two reasons. The first is with his tear filled eyes it would look blurry. The second was because he had seen it so many times over the past few years he didn’t need to look down with blurry eyes to know what it looked like.
And then he throws it.
It hits the ground after a second with a quiet but clear thud sound, a cloud of sheets of paper flying back up the short distance. Just like last year.
It was all just like last year. Except Neil wasn’t here. Neil wasn’t here now. He wasn’t here to hug Todd. He wasn’t here to speak up for Todd. He wasn’t here to tell Todd no when Todd said he could take care of himself perfectly fine. It had been almost a year and Todd still couldn’t bring himself to figure out how to keep going with the hole in his heart that was for Neil.
The papers float down and Todd stands there silently for a moment before speaking very quietly under his breath. They aren’t his words, they don’t deserve to be. They’re Neil’s words, but he says them anyways.
“I wouldn’t worry, you’ll get another one next year”