FROM ELLA PERFAE
TO LARA PERFAE
34 May's Corner
Castleford
LO6 1AR
Dear Lara,
I hope this finds you well. Or as well as you can be.
While I write, I imagine you've just put the kids to bed and finally have the time to breathe, and open the white, crinkly envelope containing the pages of this letter. Though I suspect 15-year-old (or is he 16, now?) Cam might still be awake, tapping away at his touch-screen phone so late into the night. You'll find that Aiden does this, too. He'll be listening out for your footsteps, ready to hide his phone under the pillow, and pretend to sleep when you check up on him. I always managed to catch him in the end (if he stays up, he'll be cranky in the morning!).
The sun is shining so brightly today. It's been difficult to feel positive about anything lately, but with a week of constant sunshine, I really feel like I have no choice but to enjoy it. Really, this kind of weather makes me feel so nostalgic.
It makes me think about school, if you can believe it.
I think about the months between Summer and Spring, when the temperature felt just right, the sun and the wind working together to wrap everyone in a blanket of bliss. I could have the worst time at school, teachers bellowing at me or giving me pages and pages of homework I could never understand, but then I'd step outside and the weather would put a smile on my face. It made me feel like anything was possible.
Of course, we both know I was much happier when school finally ended. I'd be out at the park or at Kaya's house by the time you were home, lugging both our coats and school bags through the door. I don't know why Mum always insisted we take our coats. Even if it was a hundred degrees outside, she wouldn't let us leave the house without them.
I still can't believe I did the exact same thing with my own children! I didn't realise it until Cleo (who you've always said is an old woman in a child's body) threw her coat on the floor with a great big huff and said, "Mum! I cannot do this anymore!"
I stood there and laughed for a whole minute! And then laughed some more when I told you about it later.
This might be dramatic but it was truly eye-opening for me.
When we were younger, there were times I promised myself I wouldn't repeat certain things Mum, and even Dad, did, with my own children; I'm sure you've also felt the same. But they raised us, and whether we like it or not, they've influenced us in more ways than we realise.
You definitely picked up your habit of singing everywhere you go from Dad. It used to be constant, and it gets particularly worse whenever you are upset. You'd even turn studying into a musical; flashcards and passwords composed into songs so you'd remember them, and I had no choice but to remember them, too, because they were always so catchy. It annoyed me back then, but now, I miss it.
I miss you.
I miss hearing you sing. I miss hearing you talk. I miss the attentive way you'd listen whenever I'd speak to you, so focused on every word like you were listening to a lecture and there'd be an exam on it afterward.
My little sister, ever the student.
I wonder if you'll ever wear thick, black frames again, like the ones you used to wear during school. My friends would always joke about how they could spot you from a mile away because of those glasses, and then I'd laugh, because I could, too.
You were always so quiet back then, always keeping to yourself, ignoring all the fun and the laughs around you. Mum and Dad were worried about you until that one meeting with one of your teachers. What was her name, again? Miss Lale? Apparently she had called you a "vital and vocal member of the classroom".
I never liked her. She was so stuck up, and her voice was so snooty, it got on my nerves. She always acted like she was better than everyone, and it's because I stood up for myself that she always tried to pick on me. But then again, I never did like any of the teachers, did I?
Speaking of teachers; do you remember when Kaya had that big crush in year 9, and you kept asking who it was but we never told you?
It was Mr. Berk, the Maths teacher. I know. I know.
I don't know what Kaya was thinking; he wore bow ties to school! Still, it was fun to tease her about it. We fell out during college, but I heard she's married again. Let's hope her new husband has a better sense of style than Mr. Berk.
Now that I think about it, there's a lot I didn't tell you back then. None of it is important now, but I still wish I told you. I wish I let you in, so you could see how it was for me, so that all this chaos that has surrounded our family these past few years might make some sense.
But now, I'm going to start telling you everything. I want to tell you everything. And I want to remind you about the good times, too, LaLa, because there were good times, and I don't want you to forget about them.
I know I'm the last person you want mentioning this, but… Remember how Amir always bought you tulips for Valentine's Day?
Each tulip was a different colour, and I always wondered how he managed to do that. You'd always complain and say it was like any other day. You'd say there was no reason to celebrate, but I know the flowers made you happy. That's why I always told you to be grateful. I told you to show your appreciation because Amir would want to spoil you even more.
You never did in the end.
But you did love him. Of course you did, he was your first love, the father of your children. And whether you believe it or not, he loved you, too; he really did.
I know Valentines, birthdays, even weekends will be hard for you now. There will be no more tulips, and no more singing. We were all so happy back then, and it pains me to know that everything has now changed. I worry you and the children will never allow yourselves to be happy ever again. But it doesn't have to be like this. That's why I'm writing these letters; I want to help you.
I have so much to tell you. But I think I'll stop here for now. I want to give you time to adjust, for the shock to wear away. And then, when you're ready, we can start piecing this story back together.
I know you'll read this letter, Lara. I know I'll hear back from you. I know you want to hear what I have to say.
Send my love to Aiden and Cleo. I miss them with my entire heart.
Always your sister,
Ella