"I drove for a while, sorting out my thoughts. When I got back to the hotel I had made my decision. I was going to see you first and then I would go see them. I was worried about you and needed to know that you were okay. I knew there was a chance that you might not want to see me, that you might not care about me anymore even though Elliot insisted that you still loved me. I was pulling up to the house and saw him walking up your driveway. I watched as you let him in, a fake smile on your face. I thought about stopping anyway, interrupting whatever was going on, but my doubt crept in and I drove away.
"I'm lost right now, Reagan. I still love you, but I don't want to hurt you. You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone who won't run when things get tough. I also can't let you go. I tried. I hated myself for so long after that. I knew I was hurting you, but I did it anyway hoping that you would move on." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Have you?"
"I wrote you." Three words. I keep my voice flat, free of emotion the best I can. I need to know why.
"I know. I read every single letter." He turns and faces me as he speaks. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. He stares at me, waiting for me to ask him the question that's been on my mind since I first saw him again this afternoon.
"Why, Luke? Why didn't you write me back?"
"I thought you'd never ask." He slowly makes his way to the front door, brushing his arm against mine as he passes. My body betrays me and shudders from his touch. I hear Luke open the front door and close it again. I can feel him in the room so I know he hasn't left. When I feel him approach from behind, I turn. "These are for you."
Luke drops a brown paper bag overflowing with envelopes onto the coffee table between us. I can see my name printed on the envelope on the top of the pile. He wrote me. A lot.
"Read them, or don't. If you want answers, they're in there. I wrote you once a week that first year. After that, I wrote you once a month. The letter on the very top I wrote before I left North Carolina, after the conversation you overheard between me and Elliot. It's all there. Every answer you need is in these letters." His phone starts ringing in his pocket, but he ignores it. It's playing my favorite song. Halestorm's Here's To Us. I wonder if he knows that.
"I don't know what to say. I want answers, but I'm afraid too. I'm afraid I won't like the answers." The fact that he wrote me makes my heart ache. I'm torn between jumping in his arms and smacking him across the face for never sending them. "You disappeared, without any explanation. I was worried. I love you, Luke. You have no idea what I went through when your letters stopped arriving. You were overseas. Elliot wasn't volunteering any information."
"I asked him not to. I was trying to let you go so that you could live your life. I told you not to wait for me, but I knew you would. I knew because I was waiting for you. I was waiting for us."
"And then you gave up."
"I never gave up. I thought I was giving you the easy out, the option. I never thought you would hold on this long. I never imagined that you loved me as much as I love you. It just didn't seem possible."
"I did. You would have known that if you hadn't tried to push me away. You disappeared, Luke. I've compared every man I've ever met to you. Every man I've ever kissed." My anger at him is growing with each word I speak. How dare he make that decision for me. "No one has ever compared and no one ever will. You have ruined me in more ways than you'll ever know. I've tried, many times, to push past you, to forget the way you make me feel. It's impossible. Every time I think I've moved on someone mentions your name and I'm right back where I started. At the beginning. That scared girl in high school who was madly in love with her neighbor for longer than he even realized. I'm that silly girl who wanted to share all her firsts with the boy next door. In many ways, she's still waiting for him but he's never coming back. That boy is long gone. It's his memory that I'm holding on to these days. The memories we created together. The man he's become is a scared shell of the person he used to be, the one who radiated confidence and went after what he wanted. I'm looking for that boy again, the grown up version of him."
Luke listens to every word I say without interrupting. Once I finish I wait for him to say something, anything. His face remained stoic while I yelled at him. He took the verbal lashing, either assuming that I needed to get it off my chest or knowing that he deserved it. For me, it was a little bit of both. I didn't go easy on him. I let it all out, I needed to, but he didn't deserve the amount of hatred that I heard in my voice. I could never hate him. My love for him runs too deep.
"I'm sorry, Reagan." He steps around the coffee table and stands right in front of me. He's slightly taller than I remember. "I'm going to kiss you and then I'm going to leave. I'm telling you this because I don't want you to think that I'm running. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be back tomorrow and we can talk some more if you want. Until then, I need for you to remember one thing."
"What's that?" I ask, staring directly at his chest, afraid to look up. There are tears threatening to fall from my eyes. The last thing I want to do is cry. I've done enough of that in the last few days.
"I love you, Reagan. I always have and I always will. No matter how this ends, know that I will always love you. It's your decision where we go from here, though. I won't make that decision for you." He tilts my chin up and our eyes meet. I see the sorrow in his eyes, the brown around his irises the lightest shade I've ever seen. He leans down and softly kisses me on the lips and then he's gone.
The sound of the door closing behind him echoes through the house. I'm completely alone. I allow one tear to fall before I take a deep breath and put on my brave face. I stare down at the bag of letters on the table. I want to read them, all of them, but my heart aches at the thought of getting answers that I won't like.
You can do this. Suck it up buttercup.
I slowly take each letter out and put them in piles on the table. I grab a glass of wine and attempt to prepare myself. I reach for the first letter and slide my finger under the flap, popping the seal loose. I pull out the letter and read the first line. That's when I realize that no amount of preparation, or wine, will ever be able to prepare me for this.
September 20, 2005
Gracie,
I know you hate it when I call you that but the meaning behind it is true. I don't know if you remember why I call you that or not. Hopefully, you do. You're my angel fallen from grace. You are a beautiful creature, inside and out. I am the luckiest man alive just to know you.
I got your last letter and I feel like I need to clarify a few things.
1. I DO NOT regret that night or that kiss. I didn't stay because I was afraid you would regret it if I did. I wanted you then and I want you now. Please don't doubt that.
2. You DID NOT push me to do anything I hadn't been wanting to do for a really long time.
3. Someday things will be different. I PROMISE!
4. The next time you see me I will say more to you than hello or goodbye. I'm not sure when that will be or what I'll say but I would never be able to just say hello and I will never be able to tell you goodbye.