Free How to Save a Life by Sara Zarr

drawer is the edge of a cardboard picture frame. Opening the drawer a little more, I see it’s a close-up picture of Robin and a man with a gray beard and big stomach. A middle-aged Santa of a man. There’s a girl in the picture, too, maybe twelve years old with dark blonde hair and braces. It’s Jill; I recognize her greenish-brown eyes. “Is this your dad?” I ask, holding the picture up.
    She nods.
    “Why do you keep it in the drawer?”
    “Because it’s private .” She stands and takes the picture out of my hand, pressing it to her chest. “Do you need anything else? A fountain pen? A thesaurus? A map to the mailbox? If not, can you please leave me alone?”
    “Sure.” I force myself to smile, trying to make friends, trying to give her time. “I like your hair color in that picture. Maybe you should go back to it.”
    She holds the picture out to look at it. “Thanks for the tip, Mandy.”
    “Sure.”

     
    Dear Alex,
    It was so nice to meet you on the train. How was your sister’s wedding? I’m sure it was beautiful. I love weddings. There’s nothing more special than seeing two people pledge their love to each other for life. I know you said you’re not married yet because you have to meet the right girl. Give it time and be open to the unexpected.
    I didn’t tell you this before because it’s hard for me to talk about, but I’m not keeping this baby. The truth of the matter is that the baby’s father was killed in the line of duty. I can’t face raising a baby without him and the only fair thing is to give us both a fresh start. So in a couple of months I won’t be pregnant anymore, and I won’t be a mother, and I’ll be looking for a new beginning. My life is an empty horizon.
    I just wanted to tell you.
    You can write to me at this address for now.
    Sincerely,
    Mandy Madison (from the train)
     

     
    It takes all three sheets of stationery to get the letter right, with perfect handwriting. Before Robin, I never knew how to write a good letter. I wanted her to think I was smart, or at least not stupid, so I asked at the library for a book to help me, and the lady found me more than one. The books were old and mostly about business letters, but every time I did an e-mail to Robin, I had the books open, and the dictionary, and I would copy phrases and words from the sample letters in the books. There were different categories, like “letter of thanks” and “friendly letter” and “letter of apology.” One thing I learned was that in a friendly letter you should refer to something that was mentioned last time you wrote or talked. That’s why I said the thing about weddings, even though I’ve never been to one. But I’ve seen them on TV and I do love them.
    I bet Alex hasn’t gotten a handwritten letter in a long time. Me either. I used to get them from my grandmother a few times a year before she died, but that’s it. The kind of life I want is to be a person who would get a personal letter every day. Even an e-mail. I never thought about that until I was getting them almost every day from Robin. I never had a connection like that to anyone, where every day you think about what you’ll tell them and you wonder what they’re doing, and you know they’re wondering what you’re doing. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be between people. That’s what I want for my baby. That’s what I want for me.

Jill

     
    It’s crazy busy at Margins; there’s a line at the café and cash wrap all night. I like it this way. Annalee has us tuned like a well-oiled machine: attentive but efficient, throwing in a book recommendation here and there when there aren’t too many people waiting, and offering but not pushing the frequent-buyers club. It’s one of those nights when every customer goes away happy with blue plastic bags full of books and CDs and random crap from the impulse-buy section—overpriced chocolate, fancy bookmarks, mugs, journals.
    For nearly three entire hours, I