For my love, Celia St. James

Third letter

My Dearest Celia,

my heart is broken. My daughter died yesterday. Breast cancer. One of those they tell you you have two months left and it's two months. Not a day more, not a day less. I keep losing the people I love and I can't stop thinking about the fact that maybe it's me. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe I'm not meant to be happy. I don't even have the strength to cry myself to sleep. When I held my sweet girl Connor in my arms for the first time (do you remember? you were there with me), I promised to protect her and I failed. I tried so hard and yet I failed. I couldn't take the pain away. I could't save her. I stayed by her side till her last breath and when she closed her eyes, her face sunk into my chest, I knew I had lost the only beautiful thing I created in my life, When the doctors took her away, I finally allowed myself the luxury of panic. It was like a part of my own body had been ripped off. If you were here, I would have called you in an instant just like the old times. When Harry passed away, you were there to ease the pain. You listened to me. You never spoke because you knew words were superfluous. That's what I've always loved about you: your ability to make me feel better simply by being there for me. I've never made it easy for you. You were always willing to listen to me, but I was never there when you needed me. I took it for granted that your love was strong enough to hold us both up. I should have helped you bear the weight of our forbidden love. Wait, not forbidden. That's not the right word. To call it forbidden would mean admitting that it was something wrong, but it wasn't. There was nothing wrong with loving you. It's the truest, most honest thing I've ever done in my long life full of lies. I lied to leave Hell's Kitchen. I lied to get to Hollywood. I lied to myself when I thought I could live without you. But then I'd find myself watching the Oscar ceremony, anxious to see you take that stage to receive what you always deserved. You were always better than me and not just as an actress. If you were here, I'd tell you everything you have missed. If you were here, your arms would be the only place in the world I would want to be. If you were here, maybe, just maybe, I would breathe again. If you were here...

But you're not.
And yet I still love you.

Forever yours,

Evelyn Hugo St. James