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Did You Get the Letter by SG
~Chapter One~
I stare down at the envelope in my hands. Who ever thought it would be this hard to mail a letter? It's been months since I've talked to him, even longer since I've seen him. And why? All because I was too afraid, too cowardly to tell him the truth. I'm afraid of what he may say to me. That's why I havent taken any of his calls or returned his messages. Why there's a folder full of unopened emails on my computer and a growing stack of unread letters in my bottom dresser drawer. I couldn't throw them away, could I? Not from him.
I can't believe that he's persisted this long. If it was anyone else, they would have given up on me a long time ago. But not him. I'm sure he's worried. That's just the way he is. But I'd rather him worry about me than hate me. And that's exactly what he'll do if I mail this letter.
A part of me wants to tell him the truth. The part that's holding out hope that he could possibly feel the same way. Then the rational side kicks in. The side that's screaming "Don't be stupid! He doesn't love you! He never will! Not like you want him to!" And for the last few months that's the voice that's winning out. Until last night. I don't know what came over me, but I started writing and just couldn't stop. The result was the almost ten-page letter in the envelope. All my hopes and fears, secrets and desires poured out in simple blue ink.
I'm terrified. That's putting it mildly. I have never been more scared in my entire life. I know I should put the letter in the mail, but I just can't. I can picture him opening the envelope, thrilled at last to finally get a response. Grateful that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. Then slowly as he reads, as he comprehends exactly what the letter's saying, his face will change. That beautiful face that I've longed to see will transform first into disbelief, then shock, and finally horror as the meaning sinks in. I'm not sure I have the guts to do it.
But if I don't, I'll always wonder. Maybe, just maybe...Stop thinking like that. Don't get my hopes up.
He deserves the truth. If for no other reason than that I need to mail the letter.
Oh, come on? A letter? Could I get any more clichéd and spineless? I know I should tell him to his face, but I could never do that. No, this way is better. This way I won't be able to chicken out. Once the letter is in the mail, that's it. The point of no return.
Slowly, I take a step toward the mailbox. Just drop it in and walk away. No regrets. But that's easier said than done. My hand is trembling as I raise it to the box. My mouth is dry as I try to swallow. Put it in and get it over with.
Quickly, without pausing I shove the letter in. What have I done? Well, there's nothing I can do about it now. No turning back. It's his move. The only thing I can do is sit back and wait to hear from him.
~Chapter Two~
Quickly I head down the steps anxious to get to the mailbox. It's become a daily torment for me. For some reason I still hold out hope that sooner or later I'll get an answer from him. He's not returning my phone calls or answering my emails and letters. I'm worried. I know I probably shouldn't be. In fact if anything I should be mad. One day he just decides to take off with not so much as a goodbye. A phone call later, and I'd still been just as mystified. All I'd gotten from that conversation had been a hurried, "Jonesy, you wouldn't understand," before the line went dead. "You wouldn't understand"? What the hell is that supposed to mean. Oh, I should hate him. I should, but I don't. I could never hate him. He means the world to me, and - even though he's shut me out - I still care about him. More than that, I miss him.
So I find myself here day after day. Heading hopefully to the mailbox. And day after day, I find it filled with the usual assortment of bills and fliers and the like, but nothing from him. So what do I do? I go back in and I write him another letter, or send him another email, or call him yet again. I'm undeterred in my belief that sooner or later I will hear something. Just a short postcard telling me he's still alive would be better than this.
I open the mailbox, slowly. I almost hate to open it and be disappointed once again. I remove the stack of letters and flip through them. I'm caught completely off-guard by the sight of his scrawled handwriting across the front of the envelope. My breath catches and I blink, sure that when I open my eyes, it will be gone. But no. It's still there. Still waiting for me to open it. And it's thick. Daz sure knows how to make up for lost time. As much as I want to tear into it right then and there, I have the foresight to know that this will probably be emotional for me and head back into the privacy of my own home.
Once I'm safely inside and have closed the door behind me, I rip the letter open pulling out the bulky paper. I grin as I start reading.
Dear Daniel,
I know it's been awhile since you've heard from me. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I just couldn't face you knowing what I know, feeling what I feel.
I wrinkle my forehead. What is he talking about? I keep reading.
I still remember the first time we met. Do you? Of course you do. But what you don't know is that, maybe not right then, but from that moment on, I slowly began to realize just how much you meant to me. Mean to me. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
First, I owe you an apology for the way I left. For not responding to your letters and phone calls. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I hope when you finish this letter that that forgiveness will still be there. The last thing in the world I want is to hurt you or upset you in any way. I know I have a lousy way of showing that. What you don't realize is that I had to leave to protect you. I know that may not make much sense, but bear with me.
If I hadn't left, you would have eventually guessed my secret. You know I can't keep anything from you. That's why it had to be a clean break. No contact whatsoever. I'd rather you hate me for that than...But you don't hate me, Jonesy, do you? Because you've kept writing, calling. Even when I wouldn't so much as pick up the phone and return your calls, you kept them coming. I regret what I did, and that's why I'm trying to make it better. To fix it. You deserve the truth. You deserve to know that, no, your best friend is not completely crazy, he was just confused. But I think I've had enough time to come to terms with this.
I don't want to lose your friendship. I cherish it, and I've missed you over the last few months. In fact, you're probably the only person who could understand just how much. But you can't build a friendship on a lie. That's why, even though this may cost me one of the most important things in my life, I have to be honest with you.
By now I'm sitting on the couch, completely engrossed in the letter as I turn to the third page.
There's no easy way for me to say this. I wish there were. Quite simply, I love you. I know what you're thinking. Yeah, so what? I love you, too. That's not what I mean. I love you. I love you with every breath in my body, with every ounce of my being. I live for you, and I'd die for you.
I want you to know that I'm not expecting anything. I only wrote this letter to give you some peace of mind, and to give us both a sense of closure. I will completely understand if I never hear from you again, though I hope that we can at least be friends. You are the most important person in the world to me. I will do anything to have you in my life again. And if that means both of us pretending you never received this letter than so be it.
I emit an audible breath and sink back on the couch still clutching the letter.
I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I...
There's more, but I can't keep reading. No, there'll be time for that later. I'm sure I'll reread these pages a million times, but right now there's something I have to do. Something that can't wait.
~Chapter Three~
I take a deep breath and settle back in my seat. Maybe I'm overreacting, but I have to see him. I have to see Darren and talk to him face-to-face. I can't do this in a letter or over the phone.
The plane's been off the ground for about twenty minutes when a flight attendant stops by my seat and offers me a drink. I nod my acceptance and gratefully take it from her. I know I'm going to need it to get through the next few hours.
I'm right, the hours drag by, leaving me with plenty of time to contemplate what I'm doing. I didn't really think it through before. I just kind of reacted. Went with my gut instinct. But now, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm doing the right thing. What if I get there and he doesn't want to see me? What if he regrets sending that letter? What if...I could go on and on.
I remove the letter from my coat pocket and open the already ragged pages. The wear and tear of incessant reading is beginning to show on them. I start reading, but find it difficult to continue. It doesn't really matter. Every word he wrote is engraved in my memory.
I have trouble believing how much impact three little words could have on my life. My entire world has shifted. I'm flying half way around the world to see a man I haven't even spoken with in almost six months. All because of three words.
As the plane approaches it's destination, I feel the beginning of nervousness start in the pit of my stomach. What am I doing? What am I going to say to him? Have I completely lost my mind? The answer to the first two is simple enough - I don't know. As for the third, well, possibly.
I wait impatiently to leave the plane. After what seems like forever, I'm outside the airport climbing into a taxi. I drape my arm across the small duffle bag I have with me. It's all the luggage I brought. Who has time to pack when their entire future is on the line?
I give the cab driver the address and settle back for what he tells me will be quite a ride. As I sit looking out the window, the reality of all of this finally hits me. In mere minutes I'll be seeing Darren again. A thought that twenty-four hours ago would have thrilled me, but now just makes me feel apprehensive and doubtful. It's been six months. People change. What if he's not the same? What if I'm not?
The taxi suddenly comes to a stop outside of a large apartment building. I pay the driver and, retrieving my bag, get out. I stare up at the top and take a deep breath. This is it. It's now or never.
Gathering all of the courage I can muster, I slowly enter the building.
It doesn't take me long to locate Darren's apartment on the 4th floor. For the millionth time since I read that letter, I ask myself what I'm doing. I hesitate with my hand raised, ready to knock. Before I can back down, I quickly rap on the door loudly three times. Then I wait. And wait. Three more whacks. Nothing. Damn it! No! He has to be home! I didn't come all this way for him not be home. Sighing, I give up and sink down against the wall to wait for him.
~*~*~*~*~
I must have drifted off to sleep, because I'm startled by the feel of a warm hand on my shoulder.
"Daniel?"
I'm on my feet in a second flat.
"I, um, I..." I stall and look up to meet his eyes.
They're bright and smiling, the familiar blue twinkling like stars.
"Do you want to come in?" He asks. He sounds uncertain of himself, like maybe he's not sure why I'm here.
I nod mutely, not being able to make a sound.
"Hold this a minute?" He says shoving a grocery bag that has thus far escaped my attention in my direction.
After I take the bag, he pulls out his keys and unlocks the door, pushing it open and flipping on the lights in a single swift motion.
He takes the bag and leads the way into his small apartment. He sets the bag down on the counter and begins pulling items out of it.
He's chattering the whole time, just useless small talk to avoid the subject at hand. It doesn't take him long to finish, and shortly he's standing in the kitchen with nothing to do.
I don't want to be blunt, but I don't see any other way to bring up the real reason behind my unexpected visit. "I..." I open my mouth to speak, but at the same time so does Darren, "Did..."
We both laugh nervously, not sure what the other was about to say.
"Go ahead," he insists.
I lick my parched lips and try again. "I got your letter."
~Chapter Four~
Okay, so he got the letter. I was expecting that. I mean what did I think was going to happen? That by some miracle the letter would get lost somewhere between my mailbox and Daniel's?
Slowly, I look up to meet his gaze. I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but the look on his face certainly isn't it. He doesn't seem upset at all, in fact he appears almost...happy.
"Say something? Please?" He begs.
I'm not going to get my hopes up. "You did, huh?"
"Yeah, Dar, I got it, and I've got to know something," he pauses for a minute. He looks down at his hands then back at me before continuing, "Do you regret sending it?"
I look at him, I mean really look at him for the first time since he's arrived. I don't know what to tell him. Maybe a small part of me regrets mailing it, but overall I feel like this huge weight has been lifted off of me. Besides, it doesn't really matter if I wished I'd never mailed it or not. I did, and he got it, and nothing we do is going to change that. I take a deep breath and, with a trembling voice, I answer him.
"No."
His face gently dissolves into a smile. "Good, because I don't regret getting it."
My breath catches. Did he just say what I thought he did? Does that mean...? He must see the confusion written on my face. Deliberately, he eliminates the short distance between us and places a tender hand on my shoulder.
"Darren, I'm not going to pretend to understand this, because I honestly don't. All I know is that these past few months without you have been awful. My own personal hell. To begin with I just thought it was because I missed you. But...it didn't take me long to figure out that it was more than that."
He pauses to catch his breath, and I start to speak. "Wait. Let me finish."
"Then it dawned on me. What if I'd felt this way all along, only I was too blind to realize it? But what if you weren't? What if you left because of me? I really couldn't think of any other reason for you not to return my calls or letters. To tell the truth, it never occurred to me that you might feel the same way."
I'm having difficulty breathing. He really is saying that. You might feel the same way. I try to smile at him, but the room is spinning. I close my eyes to block out the dizziness that overwhelmes me.
"Daz?"
He guides me to the couch and sits me down. Slowly, the room begins to come back into focus.
"Are you okay?" He questions worriedly.
"I'm fine," I chokes out. Relief washes over me. He doesn't hate me. He isn't here to tell me to get out of his life forever. If anything he is welcoming me back with open arms.
"Are you sure?"
I grin at him. "More than I've ever been in my entire life."
I wrap my arms around him, holding him close like I've always dreamed of doing.
There is a lot to talk about. We both know that. But that can all wait until later. Right now it's enough to just enjoy each others presence.
~*~*~*~*~
"I...hold on a minute," I try to stifle a yawn, but fail miserably.
"Dan, it's late. We can talk more in the morning."
"No, no. I'm not tired." Another yawn. We've spent the last few hours catching up on each other's lives, skirting around deeper issues as we consciously keep the conversation light.
"Sure you're not," he laughs taking my hand and leading me toward the bedroom.
"Darren, I..."
"Shhhh!" He answers softly. "I'm not pushing anything. Just stay here with me."
I couldn't have said no if I'd wanted to. I follow him into the room, not that I have much choice seeing as how he still has a tight grip on my hand.
"Tomorrow, Dan. We'll talk everything through tomorrow," he whispers as we settle onto the soft mattress.
"Um, hum," I murmur drowsily, resting my head on his chest and sighing as he pulls a blanket around us.
"Good night," he whispers before I succumb to the sleepiness.
~finis~
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