Dear Anyone Willing To Listen,

It sliced my palm as I played with it in my hand. The blood trickled slowly down the side of my hand and dried before it could fall to the floor. The stinging made my palm throb as if it had its own heartbeat. But my main focus was on the white shark tooth, which had my crimson liquid on the tip, and lied still in my other palm. It wasn't the blood on my palm, or the tears streaming down my face that worried me the most. It was the gore that threatened to stain my precious sharktooth that sent my anxiety to a whole new level of pure awareness. My breathing was a mix of sobs and heavy sighs, and I could feel my body starting to shake like a leaf. That’s when I finally read the name at the bottom of his letter to me.

When David and I were in sixth grade, another tragedy had struck our friendship. We were sitting next to each other on a bench that sat in the back of the classroom where we had silent reading time. David held a copy of a ripped up Magic Tree House book, and was letting me read it over his shoulder. About halfway down the third page I noticed that David was unusually quiet and still. I looked up from the book and saw his face for what felt like the first time. His brow was pointed in a serious manner; one that said to not mess with his concentration. His shoulders had an extreme tense-look about them that made him look as if he was lifting the whole world with his hands. But I knew something was really wrong when I saw that his lips were pressed in a hard line. Never in all the years that I had known him had I ever seen him not smile, so I asked him what was wrong.

“My mom died.” He said.

I froze as I realized that he was talking about his real mom and not the older sister that had adopted him. His real mom was a crack addict, who pretty much signed off on life the day she decided to use the powdery substance as a “friend” decoy. I always wanted to meet her though, and thank her for bringing such a great guy like David into the world. But later at recess, when David’s smile had returned , he finally told me that his mom had actually died two days earlier due to complications from Breast Cancer. That’s also when it hit me. That my dreams of meeting his mother died with her two days earlier. My mind just didn’t want me to know until that moment when I was with David.

“Brianna? Oh my God, it is you!”

I turned my head quickly just in time to see that David was already running towards me. It had been nearly seven months since I last saw him. Seventh grade had been a wild year, even without my dearest companion by my side. Even after being separated for such a long time, his hug and smile still lifted my less-than happy spirits. He was the ideal guy to play the girl’s goofy best friend in a movie. His choice in wardrobe matched that of a young boy trying to act as he knew everything there was to know. His brown hair laid atop of his head with a few strands sticking up in the back. He had eyes that seemed to scream carefree at first glance, but just past the surface said help me. Nothing he did could ever be classified as insignificant to me. So why was it, after being apart for so long, that I finally found myself falling in love with him? It was a slow kind of love. The kind that lay dormant for a while on the back-burner called the unconscious mind. But to know that I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with my best friend, was like waking up from a already-lived dream. Only in that moment in seventh grade did I honestly start to believe in fairy tales.

The poster-filled room was so, so quiet now. I could hear nothing but the sound of my own thoughts rattling around inside my head as I stared down at the letter in my hands. The walls seemed to embrace me as I read David’s letter, again, to myself. As the stinging in my palm began to fade, chills swam down my arms and legs as the excitement and anxiety drew me in closer to the carpeted floor. I abruptly came to a halt as I reached the signature at the bottom of the letter. My stomach did flips while my heart threatened to explode like a new star does when it is born. Right at the bottom of the letter read:

Love,

David

I quickly wrapped my hand around the sharktooth necklace. It filled me with so much excitement and joy that I felt sick with love. For the first time ever, David actually signed one of his letters to me with love.

I carry my sharktooth necklace to remind me of these stories. I carry this to also remind me of my capacity to love my best friend David unconditionally. I carry it to remind me everyday of the many triumphs and tragedies that the both of us have faced together over the past eight years. I carry it because it was a gift from him, and it needs to be looked after just as much as I look after him. It makes me want to be a better friend, but it also drives me crazy with its undefined meanings surrounding it. It tells me when to go, and when to stop, like a line that has already been drawn in the sand for me. It’s heavy burdens and dark past threaten to swallow me whole, I must help carry David. Without it in my life I would have no remembrance of what it means to have a truly great guy as my best friend, and as the love of my life.

Sincerely,

Brianna Elizabeth