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“I haven’t heard his voice in over a month,” I admit. “I miss him so much. I am afraid I’ll forget it.”
“Is that why you came here now? To run away?”
“I…yes… I came here to try and get better, but it hurts so much, dad. It hurts like there is an open fire inside of my ribcage, trying to burn its way out.”
“Is he worth it?”
“He is,” I nod, crying into his shoulder. “I did this, dad. I hid the truth, I brought this on us.”
His big, strong, dad-hands grab my face and lift my chin up so I can look him in the eye.
“If he is worth it, and you know it and believe it, why aren’t you there, trying to get him back? I knew your mother wasn’t the one, so I never tried to fix it, but at the same time I never stopped looking for you. You are my firstborn, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” he says softly. “All you have to do is say the word.”
I stare at him, as it takes me a moment to register what he was saying.
“But I just came here, I…just met the girls and Lora! I can’t leave?”
“We aren’t going anywhere.” He hugs me, squeezing the life out of me, so I can feel all his love in that one touch. “We’ll be waiting for you. That’s what family does.”
I wipe my tears away from my eyes and get up from the bed, bending to take my unpacked suitcase from under it.
“Dad?” I say, my eyes meeting his. “Will you take me to the airport?”
“Sure, Little Seal.”
***
Fuck the traffic. Fuck the red lights. Fuck the snow. It’s like people lose their general ability to drive the moment there is a gray cloud up in the sky.
I go over the speed limit, pushing my poor car to its last breath, just so I could get home as fast as I can. I run over my to-do list in my head, making sure I don’t forget a single thing.
Take a shower. - Wash your foul, greasy hair. - Put some makeup on. - Try not to cry. - Go, and win your man over.
I put my car in park, knowing damn well I have never in my life parked so badly, not even the first year I started driving. Running up the stairs, my braided hair whips all over my face. I trip and knock a wheel out of my suitcase, cursing the day I was born this clumsy. I am a mess.
My heart is racing, making it impossible for me to stop shaking. I fumble with the keys so bad I drop them a few times. The lock finally does that tinyclick, and with a loud creek I push the door open. A bunch of mail sits right in the middle of the entryway and I bend down to take it and shuffle through it, but one envelope seems to be different then the rest of the lot. I leave most of the mail on my kitchen counter, holding the odd one with my trembling hands. My eyes scan the words on the back and I feel the tears prickle right behind them.
To my Ronan
The words are written in dark, blue ink, and my heart recognizes the handwriting at the first glance. I can’t stop the erratic beating of my heart, but I’m not even sure I want it to stop, because for the first time in the last month my chest swells with something that feels remotely close to being alive. As tears tumble over my lower lash line, I carefully peel the envelope open, taking out the thick wad of paper inside.
A deep breath fills my lungs and I wipe my face with the back of my hand, unfolding the pages. My brain is so foggy and my eyes are heavy with tears which I’m scared I won’t be able to stop for long enough to make the words out. I welcome the feeling of it all. No matter what awaits me inside these pages, I am happy it’s from him. He thought of me.
Of course he did, I broke his heart.
Tears blur my vision as I take shaky steps towards the couch, and as each one drops down my chin, it catches on Noah’s letter, making the blue ink leak out behind the words.
The salty taste of sadness coats my tongue just to remind me this was all my doing, as if I wasn’t already aware of how we ended up here. I haven’t read a single word on these pages yet, but I can’t stop this overwhelming feeling in my gut. The longing, the need, all for him, and he wrote. He wrote for me.
I sit down on the cushions, the pitter-patter of my heart being the only sound in the whole room. Taking the first page into my trembling hand, I start reading. My eyes devour the words, and every line feels like a stab to the heart.
‘My deepest wound, my woman…
Or were you ever truly mine?
I couldn’t hear the words you had to say, for I knew they would break me even more than I was already broken. For me it was enough knowing I was looking for you, but you stayed away, intentionally. You stood by, watching me unfold. I couldn’t bear to hear why, and maybe it was selfish, or even cruel to refuse, but it was already more than I could take. It was more than I could give, due to already giving you all of me.
Watching me, did you notice how broken I was, and how it worsened day by day? You probably weren’t there when happy couples sat around me, and all I could think about was that none of them were as happy as we were that night. None of those men knew what it was like holding YOU, kissing YOU, loving YOU. But I did. What a vicious punishment for a simple poet like me.’
