The Letter (sequel to "Enough of Me")
* * *
Well, it's happening today.
I knew it would happen, but nonetheless I'm shocked. My heart had been ripped out of my chest a long time ago. It just hurts to know that it's actually going to marry someone else.
It's a mockingly clear day here. I'd really prefer rain and thunder, to match my mood. Maybe it's raining in Connecticut. I don't know if I hope it does or not.
I just can't get over how immeasurably, unutterably stupid I've been. I threw my whole chance for happiness away just because I didn't think I was ready for that. Of course, hindsight is 20-20, but that hasn't stopped me from crying.
Nothing I do helps. I feel like a heroine in a cheesy romantic novel, but I'm dying inside, I swear to God. I've written about it in my diary, talked about it with your mother, talked to C.J., talked to Sam, nothing helps. I'm such an idiot, because I know the one thing that will help is the one thing I can't do. I can't fly out there and talk to you like I want to because of a multitude of reasons. Least of all that I can hardly say your name without wanting to bawl.
* * *
I'm angry at you, though, too. So angry. You didn't know me as well as I thought you did, and for that I feel betrayed. I thought we had something. It was the little things that made me feel wanted and needed. The way you chewed on Toby for telling me about the President's M.S. The time you said that if I was in an accident you wouldn't stop for a beer. I still wouldn't stop for red lights, even though you're marrying Joey.
Do you realize how hard it is for me to say that? Because I love you. Yeah, you read that right. I do love you. I have since you got shot; probably before then. You looked so helpless, and I like liked to protect you.
But I know that we belong together, in spite of what we said to each other. That fight really has to be one of the dumbest things I've ever done, because you were blowing off steam. Still, you hurt me, and I hope you realize it. I hope you regret it. I hope you're marrying her knowing that she's second best. She is, even if you don't know it. Because I know you love me loved me and now you know that I love you.
So I hope you regret me the rest of your life. This is a struggle for me, Josh. Because I want to be with you, but I also want you to be happy.
So many happy returns, I guess. I hope you're happy and you remember what you've done. I'll remember it for the rest of my life.
* * *
I close the letter with my name and look at it for a moment. Then I take out another few pieces of paper and address the envelope to Mrs. Margarete Lyman. On one of them I pen a quick note asking her to forward this to Josh.
On the other I write:
God bless you. I want you to be happy, and I really hope you are.
I stare at the two letters I've written for a moment. Then I seal them and put stamps on both.
The short one I drop in the mailbox.
The long one I drop in my drawer.
He'll see it someday.