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I needed help taking my first step…just like the people I mentored at my job as a social worker.
"I'm supposed to give you this." A boy of about ten handed me an envelope marked simply 'Winter' before taking off down the beach whooping and waving a five-dollar bill.
I opened the envelope.
* * *
Dear Beautiful,
I need you. I won't stop telling you, or showing you how much I need you, either, until I'm dead. That's my promise to you, and I will keep it.
I know you are feeling guilt about the loss of our son but you are not alone in that. I have guilt too, because guilt is an emotion we all feel when we love. I love you, and I loved our son for the short time we had him. I will not lose either of those feelings for as long as I draw breath. If you want to continue to feel responsible for our loss, I can't take it away from you. It's yours to own. You have the free-will to feel as you do.
But so do I. And my free-will tells me that I can't live without you in my life. I need you. I need you to come home and love me. I need to be loved by you. I need you to start living your life again. Yes, you will feel sad when you remember, but going forward means you can take that sadness and use it for something good. I know you will find a way to make that happen. Everything you touch is good. I don't know another person with as much goodness in their heart as you have inside your generous and beautiful heart.
It's time for you to come home. There are people who love you who only want to feel your presence in their lives. And then there's me, who will not survive without you to love me. I know this. I can live without the rest if I have to, but not having your love…I cannot do.
We can get married today or next year…or never.
We can have more babies if you want to or we can have dogs or cats instead. (I would prefer dogs.)
We can adopt teenagers if you want—some real difficult little shits that'll joyride with my car and give me gray hair long before I should have it.
Point is, Beautiful, I'm not leaving this beach until you come over here to where I am waiting and tell me you love me, and that you want me to take you home.
Ever your kinky fucker,
James
* * *
I don't remember getting up from the sand, only that I was running and my legs were flying, taking me closer to my James. I didn't even choose a direction; I just went to…where he was.
And then he was in front of me standing in the sand, his god-like physique on full display for me to devour. Every line of his sculpted body, his hard-set jaw, the eyes that spoke more volumes of words than I could ever comprehend—my beautiful man was here for me. He'd come for me…to bring me back home.
With his strong arms open—waiting for me to come to him.
His arms were open for me when I fell into them.
Heaven.
Once I was against him I felt the most immense sense of peace envelop me. My whole universe clicked back into place and the incredibly painful tightness I'd borne within my chest for weeks began to dissolve. Just from being in his arms.
James healed me in an instant with only his touch.
"I love you, James Blakney, and I can't live without you either. I needed help taking my first step back to you, and back to my life in Boston. I needed help because I just wasn't able to to make that first step on my own without you."
And nobody had known it except for James. He knew. He knew how to help me best and he always would.
He tilted my chin up with the side of his finger, so commanding and tender at the same time. The only man capable of holding my heart. "What's the other thing you need to say to me, beautiful?" he
asked.
"Take me home and marry me."
"Are you proposing to me now?"
"Yes, because once you told me some rules. One of the rules was for me to be honest and to tell you what I needed. You said that if I told you, you would hear me. So I'm telling you now, James. I need you to take me home and marry me."
