Ken nodded. “You’d be alone by choice then, rather than be abandoned.”
“Right.” I exhaled, closing my eyes for a moment. “You know, I spent all last night wondering if those shrinks were right about my issues stemming from my mother’s death. Deep down, am I just scared of being left alone? Did I isolate myself in school because I was afraid to make friends? Did I choose Diana because I knew subconsciously there was never any danger of losing my whole heart to her? And did my feelings for Skylar trigger this relapse because I swam out past that danger?”
“Those are good, introspective questions, Sebastian.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “But then I wonder if that’s all bullshit and it’s just neurological, not psychological.”
Ken nodded. “Also a valid question.”
I pinned him with a stare. “I need answers, Ken. I need help. I don’t want to lose her. Tell me what to do.”
• • •
Together, Ken and I discussed strategies for getting back on track, some that had been successful for me in the past, and some that were new to me. He told me to schedule an appointment with my doctor to see about changing up some of my meds and specifically asked me to mention being treated for depression as well as anxiety. I promised I would, and I meant it. Then he asked how serious I was about Skylar.
“Serious,” I said. “In all of this, the one thing I have no doubt about is the way I feel about her.”
Ken smiled. “Perfect. So let’s bring her in here and talk about what she can do to help.”
Feeling optimistic, I left his office building, putting up the collar of my coat against the cold. I was dying to run right to Skylar and apologize and tell her I was doing everything possible to get better fast, but I thought it might be better to spend some time doing some serious self-reflection, setting new goals for myself, and pondering the best way to show her that I wanted to make a life with her, if she’d give me another chance.
When I got back to the cabin, I texted her instead. I miss you and I’m thinking of you every minute. If I’m silent for a while, it isn’t to shut you out. It’s to get well enough to let you in, and never let you go. I love you. I’ll always love you.
It nearly killed me not to call him the following week, but I knew he needed this time to work things out on his own. I answered his text with a simple I love you too and waited for him to come to me. I missed him terribly, but I was also glad he was taking this seriously. If he’d rushed right to my side, I might be tempted to think he wasn’t taking enough time to think carefully about what he wanted for the future.
I knew what I wanted. Finally.
The days that Sebastian took for himself, I took for myself too, reflecting on what I’d accomplished this summer and where I was headed. I felt proud of the direction my life had taken: I had a job I loved and I was good at it; I had big-picture plans to save up the money to buy my own condo like my sisters had done; I made rent payments to my parents even though they said they didn’t want them, I made a car payment each month on time, and I still had some left over for nice shoes. (Note to self: Do Not Wear Leopard Heels In Rain.)
Maybe I didn’t have a wedding ring or kids like some people my age, but I had fallen madly in love…that was a good start, wasn’t it? But the more days went by without hearing from him, the more I worried he’d changed his mind about me. His note had said I’ll always love you, and in my mind I started to hear a sort of final, tragic ring to the words…like maybe we wouldn’t get our happy ending but we’d always have last summer. Each night I went to sleep alone, I fretted and prayed and hoped and missed him. Please don’t let me miss him forever. Please don’t let me regret anything. Please bring him back to me.
And then one shivering cold evening in early December, I came home from work to find an envelope taped to the guest house door with my name on it. The writing was Sebastian’s. Surprised, I looked around but saw no one around and heard only the wind gusting through the orchard. A few snow flurries were starting to fall from the inky sky as I pulled the envelope off the door and hustled inside, kicking it shut behind me.
Without even taking off my coat, I threw my gloves onto the counter and slid my finger under the flap. Inside were two sheets of notebook paper folded into thirds. Hands trembling, I opened them up. They had spiral fringe on the left as if he’d written them in his journal and ripped them out. The top one was a letter.
My sweet Skylar,
Sorry this letter isn’t on nicer paper—you deserve beautiful things, and I promise to give them to you. But this paper suits me, I think. A little rough around the edges, but the words are heartfelt.
Thank you for giving me the time and space I needed to recover. I promise you, I have used it wisely. Not a day (and certainly not a night) went by that I didn’t miss you, but the issues I had to work through meant focusing fully on myself, mind, soul, and body, something I never want to do when you’re around.
(Your body is much more fun to focus on.)
I’ve learned a lot about myself during the last month, and feel stronger than I ever have. Strong enough to admit how wrong I was to close myself off from you. Strong enough to see how I let myself be the victim of my doubt and fear. Strong enough to realize what I need to do next.
Can I please have another chance?
This cabin, this heart, this life feels empty without you.
Love,
Sebastian
P.S. I wrote something for you.
The words blurred as my eyes filled, and I sniffed as I slipped the letter behind the second page.
Skylar
My mind is constantly ticking
with doubts
tick did I lock the door tick did I turn off the stove tick did I check the outlets tick did I step on a crack tick did I wash my hands enough times tick did I turn off the lights tick did I walk a straight line tick did I take the right number of steps tick did I turn off the television on an even channel tick did I close the book on an even page tick did I start the car on an even minute tick
what if I didn’t
what if I didn’t
what if I didn’t
I don’t know.
But I know
you wore a gray sweater
and had a crumbling leaf in your hair
the day we had a chemistry test
before it started you turned and asked,
“Is sodium hydroxide an acid or a base?”
It was the first time you ever whispered to me.
(I liked that it was eight words.)
I don’t know why eight
is better than seven or nine or twenty-one.
I don’t know how many times I’ve told you
I love you
But I know that number is all wrong
because it isn’t enough
Your love may never silence the ticking
but I would trade silence for your laughter,
calm for your storms,
tranquility for your madness,
the beautiful chaos of stars
The papers shook in my hands, and tears dripped off my lashes. I needed to see him. Tonight. Slipping the letter and poem back into the envelope, I tucked it into my purse and raced out the door, yanking it shut behind me.
• • •
The drive to the cabin had never seemed so endless, not even the first night we’d been together, Sebastian’s hand sliding up my thigh. At the thought of his touch, every muscle in my lower body tightened. It had been so long. Had he missed my body as much as I’d missed his? The snow fell a little harder as I drove up the highway, and I forced myself to slow down and be safe.