Novel & Cerita Letters To My Palestinian Neighbor

I started, just as Knight said, “It’s not nonsense.” We locked eyes and a grin spread across his face. He pointed between the two of us and mouthed, “See? Best friends.” After that the letters stopped entirely. That was until my mother sent a letter 9 years later. February 3rd, 2005 To the Realist, I hope you cherish the sunflowers I have sent you. The chrysanthemum’s you’ve convinced me to plant those years ago are taking root beautifully. It was wonderful hearing from you again.

She even had the nerve to appeal to our neighborly relationship for mercy. Harold had abandoned every shred of the bravado he'd displayed in front of Alpha. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, he pleaded in a humiliated voice that this was all just a terrible misunderstanding. He told me we were neighbors, after all — we'd be seeing each other every day. No need to make things ugly. I watched their shabby performance with complete indifference. When they saw I wasn't going to let it go, Daisy changed tactics. She tried to play the victim card, hoping to win sympathy from the crowd.

They didn't sleep around or act crazy. When the neighbors found out what happened to me, they rallied together and organized a fundraiser for me. I didn't have to work three jobs anymore. I slowly learned that real safety didn't come from guns or locked doors. It came from people looking out for each other. In the new neighborhood, Draven made a lot of good friends. He grew brighter and more cheerful every day. The smile came back to his face. As he got better, so did I. What Rina did to us became a wake-up call, a reminder to always hold onto your values and not throw yourself into relationships with just anyone.

I woke up with one small regret sitting beside my pillow like an uninvited guest. Put on a shirt. Two words. Two stupid words I never should’ve sent to an engaged man, my new neighbor, the possible biological father of my child, and the most irritating human being ever to stand shirtless on a terrace eating lemon olive oil cake like it was protected by the Constitution. I lay there staring at the bedroom ceiling for a full five seconds. Then ten. Then I pulled the blanket up to my chin.

This is our new way of studying together, our legs entwined while we study. I open the paper letter first and read it. ‘Hey Yorick! I know you didn’t expect to hear from me so soon, but since I wanted to encourage you to write me quickly, I wrote the day you left. It’s already too quiet here. How can you have so much of a presence here that I already miss you?

“I don’t like being woken up at midnight over something stupid, and then being insulted. So, please, save your apologies and don’t bother me.” I opened my mouth, but the indignation stunned me, and I took a moment to find a response. “Neighbor?” I repeated, incredulously. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means you’re my neighbor. And I’m not interested in having unnecessary conversations with you.” I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, right. Because it’s completely unnecessary to act like a decent person and accept an apology.” He shot me a quick look, raising an eyebrow. “And now I’m the rude one?”

"7 pm is fine. I will do that. And don't send this young man any letter again, he is fed up with our bullshit." I handed the letter out, apologizing to the guard, profoundly knowing this was unnecessary when we were practically living less than a hundred feet away from each other. He doesn't look like he was fed up, though. I spent the rest of the day fantasizing about how our dinner was going to turn out. I have never been happier in my entire life.

Dear Altezza, Firstly, I apologize if this writing is not neat. Al, if you are reading this letter, it means you are searching for my whereabouts. And I'm sorry if I'm not with you right now. I want to thank you for all your kindness towards me. My mother and my aunt. My gratitude towards you cannot be expressed in words. But one thing's for sure, I am grateful to have met you. I'm sorry for expressing all of this through a letter. I just feel unable to say it directly to you because I'm too ashamed. And my tongue always fails me.

Women, children, the elderly–no one is escaping their wrath. And here I am dithering over what kind of overture to give my father just so my own family doesn’t have to be divided. “We’re alive, at least,” I mutter, forcing myself to pen the first sentences. “That’s more than we can say for a lot of people in the north.” “That’s true,” Zeke agrees. “I should be grateful for that I suppose,” I berate myself. “You do remember that I wrote an entire three-page letter complaining to Annamarie about her going with you into Rallegrad?” he reminds me.

It’s for Taddeio. My dearest Taddeio, I’m just hoping that this letter will find you. I was scared to death if it was in someone’s hand while I was writing this. I know that it would be hard for you to contact me. That’s why I’m doing this to let you know that I’m doing okay here. They are letting me live in freedom and taking care of me just like you did when we were still together. I’m praying for your happiness and I hope that we’ll meet soon… again.