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Abby

I’m sitting in front of the computer, preparing notes for class when someone knocks on the door.

Amazingly, it’s Connor. I’m so shocked by this unexpected visit that once again, I forget to breathe. I suck in air greedily.

“Ve? What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you this. I wanted you to read it.”

He hands me a rolled-up parchment tied with a string, turns on his heel, and walks away.

I stand still for a moment, wondering what this is all about. I untie the string. It’s a letter, handwritten by Ve. I close the door, enter the bedroom, unfold the parchment, sit on the bed, and begin reading.

My Abby!

I want to understand you in all this mess, and I’ve already grasped a bit. On my own, because that’s the only way to truly understand, without anyone’s help. Unfortunately, there’s one thing I can’t comprehend. I’ve tried, and I just can’t. How can you NOT LOVE ME anymore?! It’s your choice, and I can’t and don’t know how to change it. I just want you to know that I want to be with you in good and tough times, but I can’t share you with anyone. I hope you can understand that.

Sweetheart, this overwhelmed me, I can’t anymore! You say you need time—I gave it to you. And what? It hurts like hell! It doesn’t fit into my thick skull that you could tell someone “I love you”. It fucking destroyed me, sucked out all my faith in us. Nothing is worth believing in anymore. It hurts so damn much!

And it doesn’t matter that you said those words to someone when you weren’t with me anymore. Just think: does that change anything?!

“In love, you wish to be believed; in friendship, to be understood” (Marcel Achard).

We had both.

You wanted more time. I gave it to you. And it brought us nothing besides you falling in love with someone else. In such a short time… I’ve been disappointed more times in the past few weeks than in the last two and a half years of our relationship. I showed you that I could change, that I could be different, but what does it mean to you?

I have my honor and pride. Maybe it’s wrong that I can’t do anything in this situation. Or maybe I’ve already tried, and it changed nothing.

You say you don’t want me to get involved with anyone. Why? Are you leaving a door open for yourself? You tell me I can’t, but what about you? Do you know the saying: “Don’t do unto others what you wouldn’t want done unto you”?

You ask how she can love me when she doesn’t know me. I don’t know, maybe she loves me because I’m there for her. And why do you say you love someone you don’t know? Answer that! Why does he tell you that when he doesn’t know you?!

I know one thing—if something in you makes you want to see me, if you want me to hug you, make some gesture in that direction, it will be a sign, a sign from above. But if your head doesn’t allow it, then it’s okay. “The heart is not a servant.”

Also, know that every meeting with that guy is another thorn in my heart. Until now, I thought that such important words were reserved only for me.

Don’t ask my friends how I’m doing. If you really want to know, your heart will lead you to me. You’ve already received many whispers from your heart, but you’ve been stubbornly ignoring them. Maybe I deserved it. I don’t know. Probably a bit. But I’m not sure if I deserve such vile treatment. Well, you’re a bit blinded, aren’t you? If you want to have me by your side, do what you feel, not what your head suggests. I believe in our love, although I’m starting to doubt it a bit. I also know that two people can be together forever, experiencing everything together.

You poured a bucket of freezing water on me, made the first move to shake me, ended something.

I can’t persuade you to do anything, expect anything. But you know where I live. If you’re ready for something more and want to be with me—prove it!

“Love is blind when dawn promises her the joy of the senses, but when she has the recovery of woefully lost happiness as her goal, she can predict everything with extraordinary insight” (Giacomo Girolamo Casanova).

I know it’s all my fault. Your decision is my fault but only you can fix it… Believe me. Only you!

It all depends on you.

I love you very much. You hold both of us in your hands now. I offer you all of myself. I’ll do anything for you. Consider whether anyone else would ever do everything for you. I hope you choose well and that everything works out.

“Love that one wishes to feel can never replace the love one feels” (Claude-Prosper Jolyot de Crébillon).

“Love is something divine” (Ludwig Feuerbach).

I care about you. I love you more than life. But I can’t wait forever because it kills me. This whole situation only increased my feelings for you and may, ironically, cement our relationship. Or shatter it forever. Think about it, sweetheart.

Remember—if you miss me, if you want me next to you in bed, in life, if your body longs for the touch of my hands, for the closeness that can’t be equaled by any other, let your heart tell you what to do. If you feel it, don’t let your head stand in your way. Come to me and kiss me as passionately as you can.

She may or may not love me. The only thing that matters to me is whether you still love me. If the answer to that question is “yes”, I can forgive this whole damn misunderstanding. I’ll take it as a lesson I had to go through. For now, I don’t care much about that girl, but I care a lot about you. But I won’t wait forever.

You ask if I believe in love and fate.

I ask: can words cause pain?

I love you, kitty cat.

Yours forever—Ve.

I read the letter a million times. I don’t even know when tears start rolling down my cheeks. My whole shirt is wet with them. He knows me so well, sees that my head won’t let me go back to him yet. When the head wins against the heart, the heart has no strength to fight. Yes, I’m scared that we’ll get back together, and it will be wonderful for a time, but then we’ll start growing apart again, and he’ll keep ignoring me. I can’t live like that. I need certainty. I need to feel it and feel that I’m the most important thing to him, but not only when his back is against the wall. I’m not sure if that’s even possible with Ve. I’ve thought about this hundreds of times. There’s no telling if our relationship makes any sense. We might destroy one another. We really might. Both of us are messed up, each one in a different way. Since I’ve already made a decision once, maybe it’s better to just leave it as it is. And I’ve gone pretty far with my rebound after Ve. I shouldn’t have fucked Larry. Yeah, sure, I can treat it as a kind of sport. I needed to feel loved. My self-destructive tendencies always lead me astray. In wanting to become more worthy, I did everything for others, even against myself, not caring for my own needs, satisfying everyone around me to my own detriment, so that someone, anyone, would notice me, appreciate me. I know that if we got together again, I would never gather the courage to admit it. It would kill him. And if that is the case, isn’t building something on a foundation of lies nonsensical? Eventually something is going to go awry, or somehow, by a stupid quirk of fate, Ve would learn the truth. I won’t get out of this.

Maybe I should live like I do now, without involving myself in relationships too much. Just be and let myself be pampered. Larry makes a lot of effort to make me feel like the most important person in the world. He plans absolutely everything with me in mind. It’s so simple and nice. No arguments, no guessing—only clarity and openness. He’s always happy to see me and wants to spend time with me. He’s tender and considerate, and a sex demon in bed. He can drop everything he’s doing just to come to me when I’m in a bad mood. It used to be like that with Ve, but never to such an extent. There was always something… Maybe it’s the age difference. Six years is a lot, and that’s how much divides me and Larry. Perhaps Ve will change too, grow up. I’m not sure anymore.

I flail around in the swamp of my own thoughts—one I’ve stepped into of my own accord. I’ve even created it. I was sure I’d manage with Ve letting go. I felt that he didn’t care for me, and suddenly he does something like that.

I fill the bath, pour myself a glass of wine, plunge into the foam, and read the letter once again. When I’m finished, I put it on the shelf and down the ruby liquid. I’m not certain I can give him what he wants. And I don’t know if he knows how to be the person I need. We both have a lot to fix in ourselves. Getting together without first repairing what has been damaged is not a clever idea. I know it might not work and cause a wall of ice to grow between us. As soon as he feels he’s got me back, and the situation is stable, he’ll return to his old habits, and I’ll have to hurt again.

I don’t know if my need to be close to him will win against the doubts about everything I’m feeling. Because if you think about it, each and every second spent with Connor is worth all the suffering.