Free Dear Jon by Lori L. Otto

And if you say you don’t love her, then I’m not sure I really know you.”
    I glare at him hard, but he stares right back at me. “Go read your book.”
    “Go read your letters,” he calls after me as I return to my room. “Harboring negative energy toward her doesn’t help!” he says loudly, provoking me to slam my door.
    How dare he throw my own advice back at me!

INTERVENTION
     
    After three days, I’m sad to say that I’m elated to see a letter from Livvy in the mailbox when I get home from work. As much as I want to detach myself from her, these notes are somehow tethering me to her in an unhealthy way. I know this, and still, I can’t wait to read tonight’s submission.
    I love you, Jon.
    When you see this one, you won’t have a corresponding memory. I experienced this without you, and I never told you about it. I never told anyone about it. In fact, I’ve lived the past 14 months denying that it ever happened.
    But it did.
    When you broke up with me, I thought my life was over.
    So she does know I broke up. That’s good to know.
    Do you remember when you told me the world didn’t revolve around me? And I returned that I did know that, and I tried to explain that my world revolved around you?
    I didn’t realize she was talking about the breakup last year. That telephone call was so difficult. I was so mad, and she seemed clueless to the reasons behind my anger. The conversation ended horribly. I asked if she was finished ranting, she said sure , and I said goodbye. For hours, I’d thought about calling her back to end it differently– better –but I realized there’s no good way to end things.
    She’d tried to call me many times after that. She left me messages, but I deleted them without listening to them. I needed some perspective, and I knew I wouldn’t get it if I had to listen to her crying or pleading with me.
    This sounds familiar. For 11 letters–now 12–she’s pled her case with me. Not in any way I would have anticipated. Her case consists of compelling memories of when we were good together, but still… she has yet to apologize.
    After the fourth message I left you went unreturned, I raided our medicine cabinet and I locked myself in the bathroom while my parents had taken my brother to the zoo. I was supposed to go with them, but I told them I wasn’t feeling well.
    What, she’s telling me she tried to kill herself? This is manipulation at its worst. Come on, Livvy. Let it rest.
    I sat on the floor and poured out the contents of seven medicine bottles next to me. I had Trey’s allergy pills, three over-the-counter pain killers, Mom’s migraine meds, Hydrocodone Dad had left over from a knee injury and some anti-nausea tablets. I started crying as I sorted the pills into patterns, and the colors began to blur into captivating shapes. Every time I shuffled them around, attempting to make them lose their order and beauty, they formed another shape that inspired me. At first, I was angry, until I saw the gift that was being presented to me.
    Remember the paintings I did in that time period? How they were unlike anything I’d ever done before? That’s why. I took what I saw in the bathroom that day when I was at my lowest point, and I painted.
    I’d taken seven pills: one of each.
    A lump grows in my throat. Manipulation or not, imagining a world without her is more than I want to think about. It’s one thing for us to be apart. It’s another thing for her family to be without her, for the world to miss out on the amazing talents she has. I read on hurriedly.
    After two manic hours of painting, I felt sick to my stomach. I was sweating and my heart felt like it was going to burst from my body. I forced myself to throw up. My parents came home and found me in the bathroom. All evidence of the pills had been hidden away in my bathroom drawer, so they just thought it was a bug. I couldn’t walk to my bed, and I thought about telling my parents what I’d done. My dad carried