To Tate...

I called her up anyway--screw the long distance--at midnight. Now, I knew we were in two completely different time zones by then, but I really could care less. Really.

"Hello?" she said into the receiver.

"Hey, Tate."

"Who's this?"

Yeaaaaaaaaaaah. Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but it was better than nothing.

"It's Brendan, stupid."

"I knew that, Brendy! Don't think I wouldn't recognize your voice by now. What's up?"

"What time is it over there?"

"Uhhm... it's about... four in the afternoon down here."

"Well, it's 12:01 here."

"At night?"

"Well, morning, really. But enough of that... HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!!"

"Aww, Brendan! You need your bed rest! You so kwazy."

I laughed. "Gee, Tate, love you, too. Sheesh."

"You know I'm only saying that out of love, love." Chuckling, she added, "So how many days until I get back?"

"Oh, come on, like I'm counting!"

"How many?"

"Twelve."

So maybe I was counting. But what else was I supposed to do with my calendar? Seriously?

"Twelve? Really? Not too long, then! Hooray!"

"Are you having a good time?"

"Yes, Brendan. But it SUCKS without you. Especially on our anniversary." She groaned.

"We'll do something when you get back, don't worry."

"Yay. But... can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Mmm, depends. What is it?"

"Write me something. Anything... just something for me so that when I get the mail twelve days from now, I'll have something of you. It can be anything. Really."

"Even just your name?"

"Yours would be better."

"Oh, so you want an autograph?"

"You know I'm your biggest fan!"

I grinned. "I know."

"So... just write me, okay? And then I can right you back, and," she gasped, "WE CAN BE PEN PALS!! O-M-G, wouldn't that be great?"

I laughed again and said, "Yeah. Well, it's late, Tate. Good afternoon."

"Good night, Brendanny!"

"I'll write."

"Lub you."

"Lub you, too."

I set down the phone, and stared across the room at the legal pad on my desk. Should I start now? What would I write? Should it be kind of like a journal?

I snatched it and clicked my pen, at first doodling in the margins as I brainstormed before writing 'Dear Tate' on the first line.

How... generic. There must be another way to write a salutation.

Frustrated, I opted for just writing my name on a sheet of paper with a picture attached. But, as enticing as that was humor-wise, I knew this was going to be something Tate would look forward to on her way home from that long-butt cruise. I had to be serious about this.

I was never good at English. I just... couldn't apply myself, I guess. Or, I was just lazy. Or, Mrs. Applebee, Mrs. Bates, and Mrs. Goldblum were just out to get me. Either way... I was never the top of my class in there, but Tate was. Tate was always there to help me out.

Thinking of this, I finally knew what I wanted to write. I would write her a story... but not just any story. It would be our story. The story of how I, Brendan Leonard, finally got the girl of his dreams, his childhood crush, the Juliet to his Romeo (minus the tragedy), the Reese to his Ryan, the Marge to my Homer, the... eh, well, you get the point.

So, I wrote.

And wrote.

And wrote.

And now, I think this story has finally reached it's end.

Tate, as you read this, I just wanted to let you know that I couldn't put into words just how much you mean to me. With that said, I await your letter, and the time I next see you smile. Until then... I miss you.

(your pen pal.)

Love, Brendan