Chapter Text
“Brando, come downstairs!” I could hear my mother’s voice through the music blasting in my ears. Specifically ‘drop dead’ by Olivia Rodrigo. I had it on repeat lately.
I shut my computer, which was open on an essay I had to do for my English class. Our teacher gave us summer homework, which was lame. Why even give us homework on a time where we aren’t even at school?
I stood out of my chair and took my time downstairs. I was in no rush, and I’m sure my mom wasn’t either. I had nothing to get in trouble for, as I hadn’t been outside the house for the last three weeks.
“Jeez, taking your time, aren’t you?” my mother said to me as I finally reached downstairs. In her hand was an envelope. “This is supposed to be yours, it seems it’s from Wilson?”
Wilson? Wilson Baker? One of my best friends – well, not best friend. I hadn't talked to him ever since he moved to New Jersey. The last memory I have of him is blurry, but we were hugging through the window of his small car. He had a dark blue shirt on from what I remember. I loved that shirt on him, but in a platonic way. I remember that day all too well, and I wish I hadn’t. It was one less friend. But it was fascinating how I remembered that much, from a memory from four years ago.
“Oh, I haven’t talked to him in forever,” I said, a little surprised. I took the envelope upstairs to my room. I shut the door behind me and sat down on my creaky bed.
I carefully opened the letter, and took a postcard out of it. Written in blue ink and messy handwriting was a short note.
Brando,
I’m coming back to the suburbs for the summer. I’ve missed you kinda. Not a lot though.
P. S. I may have “borrowed” your brown racer jacket for all of the past years.
Thanks.
-Wilson
Yikes, such a small notice for a big thing, I thought. Wait, so Wilson is coming back to Texas this summer? I can’t lie, I missed him a bit too, now that I think of it.
Suddenly, I heard my phone ringing from my back pocket. Some Elton John song filled my room.
And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time, til touchdown brings me ‘round again to find. It was one of Wilson’s favorite songs, he would try and play the notes on his guitar, but failed miserably. But he didn't fail at singing. It was the first song I had ever heard him sing, quietly in his room while trying to figure out the chords. I heard it through the walls late at night. He never knew I heard him sing, but it was beautiful.
I pick up the call, and find that Wilson is calling me. How perfect, his timing. I answer.
“Hey…Brando,” I heard him. His voice was deep, and I liked it. I winced at the thought of liking my best friend’s voice and moved on.
“Uhm…Wilson, hey,” I replied. So far, this call is very awkward. “I, uhm, just got your letter.”
“Now? I sent that a while ago,” he said. My mom must’ve just now checked the mail, she barely ever checks it.
“My mom is horrible with checking the mail, so yeah, I did just get it.”
“Oh okay. So you know I’m coming back to Texas then?” he clarified. He used to always clarify, it was one of my favorite things about him.
“Yeah, it said it in the note,” I giggle. This sure is Wilson.
Wil starts to giggle too. Oh gosh, his laugh is so…so Wil like.
“So uhm, how and when will you be arriving?”
“Plane, we can’t drive there, silly! It’s over a day drive!” he teased.
“Oh don’t tease me!” I blushed. “Are me and my mom picking you up?”
“Preferably.”
“Got it. I’ll tell them,” I say. “I’m…looking forward to seeing you again.”
“Yeah…me too,” he replies.
“Uhm, see you soon?”
“Yeah, see you soon!”
“Yeah..” I replied, thinking of how to continue the conversation.
“Okay, bye,” he said, and instantly hung up the phone.