Into the Velvet

The Second Breakthrough

Dear Amos,

I understand why you left to protect yourself. I can't be mad at you for that.

Writing my goodbye to you feels absurd. How could I part with someone who lives in my bones? Who's walked the same amount of earthly steps as I have? Without you, I would never have been kind, nor nearly as forgiving. You were everything good that I learned how to be.

Without you, I wouldn't be myself. You're ingrained into who I am.

I've loved you since we were babies. How could I not? You and I are family. Yours was the first hand I held. The first smile I saw and remembered. It still changed nothing in the end.

Your heart is twice the size of mine, and it's been put through the kind of pain that most people don't come back from. I just wish I hadn't added myself to the long list of people who have broken it. All you ever wanted was to feel at home. Fighting the shape of your own body — the way that it didn't fit with the shape of your soul — was something you couldn't have done alone.

You needed me, and I hadn't been there.

I had vowed to protect you — to nurture you with the same unconditional love that I'd received, and that you hadn't. And I had failed spectacularly. For that I'll always be sorry. My failure to show up for you reflects badly on me. Not you. It never meant that you weren't unlovable. It meant that I was selfish. That I was completely unworthy of your love and confidence.

When I walked away from you, I hadn't understood what my actions had meant. I understand now. I left you fighting in the ring without backup. I left you defenceless against a mother who wanted to take away every agency you had. Most importantly, I abandoned you to endure the unendurable. Alone.

The world is cruel and impossible, and you needed me there to hold your hand through it. I hadn't. And I'm sorry. I recognise that there was nowhere else to be other than by your side. There was no rush to go elsewhere. You needed me, and I wasn't there.

My apologies will never suffice.

Being your best friend, knowing you as I have, has been a tremendous honour. Your trust is not something willingly given. Nor should it be. You're the rarest kind of species, one of the last remaining — for you are soft and lovely and made of the truest steel. You are not invisible. You deserve the space that you take up. The sun is brighter now, having known you. As am I.

You'll never be alone.

Even now, as I linger around the parameters of your life, I still remain devoted to you. I'll love you from a distance, Amos. If you'll let me. I'll protect you as much as I can. That's my job. I've kept your heart and story and fused it into my own. And I will never, ever let go.

I've always wanted to be there to witness your metamorphosis. We'd looked forward to it for so long, counting down the days to freedom. When that day arrives — when you finally reveal the truest expression of yourself, and feel the most comfortable in your skin – the world will be a lighter and more joyful place. I don't doubt it for a second.

And if you have to wait a little longer? That's okay, too. There's plenty of time. You'll let everyone in when you're ready.

I miss you terribly. I hope you're loving college. I hope you've found a group of people who love and understand you. And that you're happy.

"All the very best, from Louise," I read aloud, finishing the letter. My mouth felt dry. I cleared my throat and reached for the glass of water by my chair. "I couldn't think of anything else to add. The whole thing is garbage."