Letters

Just say the word.

Dear Penn,
Sometimes I am sure I'm THAT person. The one who would put their heart and respect on the line over and over to salvage the love I hold for everyone. I will stay for the people who cannot see me slip away from myself, I will stay for the people who can't see me anymore. Because somehow somewhere between loss and heartache, I gave all my pride away; so, it never comes between me and the people I love. So, I never hold back from saying "I'm sorry" or ask again and again if we're okay. How can any pride or semblance of respect ever be greater than the love someone holds for you? How can anything be more important than the person who would stand by you through thick and thin. How can anything be more important than your constant, than the person who would die for you and is alive only for you. How does pride step between you and the person who can throw away all esteem just to ask you "Are we good?"

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"Mindy I'm not a good writer. I have a good vocabulary and a dramatic life. Writing just seems to happen"

She looked at me for two minutes and then took a sip of her coffee.

"You're right."

"You're supposed to comfort me and tell me it's not true."

"Would you prefer that?"

"No."

She smiled.

"Are you going to tell me what happened that night?"

"Which night?"

"The one where you vanished halfway with Penn and then never told me what happened."

oh

"Nothing worth mentioning."

She could tell I was lying; I knew she could. But she chose to not dwell any further on it.

"Lemme see what you've been typing."

She leaned in and her eyes ran over the words on my screen, flicking over the sentences.

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"No. You left because you could no longer pretend you still loved the things you used to love about me."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You loved me because you were alone, and I was there. You loved me because I never gave up on you when you shut me out. Now it's nothing but a mild annoyance. You asked me to give up on you not because of what other people thought of me...but because you hated it. You hated me."

He didn't say anything, and I wished he would. I wished he would prove me wrong, tell me I'd thought this up like always, but he didn't. He stood there, refusing to look at me the way people do when the truth is too harsh. 

"I know I think up the worst in my head D, I know you grew tired of it. It's my fault I did not leave you when I saw you were tired of me. I thought you'd never be tired of me."

Silence. So, I turned and walked away from the person I knew I'd love even in death. I walked away with tears he'd never know I shed. But I walked away from where I was no longer wanted anymore.

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"Thats...good. It's really good."

I smiled at her, then picked out coffee mugs and deposited them into the kitchen sink. I rinsed them out and put them back on the shelves. 

"Heading to work now?"

"You bet, I'll see you after, okay?"

She nodded, picked up her bag and we both walked out the apartment. I locked up and headed to work. Once in my office, I though back the night a week ago. We'd walked to my apartment, finished a bottle of wine, watched a movie and fallen asleep on my couch. Hands wrapped around each other under the blanket. When I woke up the next morning, he was still peacefully asleep. 

The sun shone through a crack in the curtain and turned his skin golden. His lashes cast a shadow across his cheeks and his hair was a perfect mess. I suppressed the urge to reach out and touch it. Even back when we'd been together, I'd loved his hair. The tumble of them, the boyish roughness, the white streaks he'd somehow had even at 17. The way they ticked my face. I got up slowly, making sure I didn't disturb him. He'd been a deep sleeper for as long as I'd known him.

After a quick shower, I came back to find him still sleeping. Slowly, and very carefully I left the apartment and walked to the bakery 2 blocks away and brought breakfast, still too tired after last night's clubbing to cook something up. When I got back, he was sitting up, looking confused. When he looked up, for a moment I could have sworn his eyes went soft. Then he looked at the bag in my hand and gave a slow smile.

We ate in silence. Chewing on the muffins and Lemon cake lost in thought. 

"I should go... "

"Yeah, I'll walk you down."

On the stairs, next to the building door, he pulled me in for a hug, holding me long and tight. When he parted and left, he didn't look back. He hadn't told me if we'd see each other again, if he remembered falling asleep in my arms as I stroked my hands through his hair. It was back to silence, and I returned to the emptiness of my home. The once that only felt like home when he was there.