Page 13 of All In
Turns out I still have a broken heart, which is now coupled with a hangover. A fun combination.
Did she wake up thinking about him?The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I crinkle upThe Chadletter again (it’s a miracle it’s still in one piece at this point) and walk over to the trash can, opening the lid. Broken glass and beer bottles stare back at me as my shaking hand hovers over the can.
But something stops me. I don’t know what or why, but I can’t bring myself to throw it away. Maybe it’s because it’s Maria’s last words to me. Or I am a glutton for punishment and want to hold on to the hurt.
Whatever the reason, I smooth it out, fold it up, and walk to my bedroom. As soon as I open the door, my eyes land on the black velvet box still resting on my dresser. It’s staring at me, taunting me. Which causes another thought to pop in my head.
The ring!
I head over to the hamper, grab my pants from last night, and fish out the wad of tissue paper. Gently, I unfold it and watch as the ring appears, looking as beautiful as it did the day I bought it.
But instead of it being on her finger right now, it’s resting on a bed of tissue in my palm. Remembering the promise I made to myself, I force down the tears that are starting to form. With an unsteady hand, I gingerly place the ring back in the velvet box. It snaps shut as I grab it, and along with the letter, I walk to my closet that’s missing a door. On the top shelf is an orange Nike box that has all the letters that Maria has written to me. Years’ worth of letters. I grab it, open it, and place insideThe Chadletter and the ring.
Is it unhealthy to keep them both? Probably.
But that ring and letter are all I have left of Maria. And I’m not ready to let go.
Not yet.
So, before Ricky gets back and tries to talk me out of it, I grab a pen and a piece of paper and I write one last letter.
Chapter six
1995
Three Days Later
My Dearest Maria,
It’s been less than twenty-four hours and I already miss you. I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty. I just want you to know. And if I’m being honest, you never gave me a chance to tell you how I feel about this whole thing. You took the easy way out. And maybe that’s because Chad was there. He was there, wasn’t he? I know he was. I saw his obnoxious car parked out front. I mean a Corvette for crying out loud. You always hated flashy sports cars. Anyway, after you gave me the letter, I bet you went right back inside and the two of you celebrated.
That was mean. Forget I said that.
I can’t for the life of me figure out why you would do this to us. I’m sure he’s richer and better looking. But I know he can’t possibly treat you better than I did. There’s no way. And I know I can’t give you everything materially, but I would have died for you. Given up everything for you. I can’t help but wonder if Chad would part with his Corvette for you. Doubtful. If this is about the money, then I guess I had no chance.
I am so mad at you. Yet, I’m so in love with you. I’m not used to feeling this way. Granted, we’ve had our arguments, but this. This new feeling of anger I have towards you. Well, I don’t like it. And I don’t know how to fix it. There is no fixing this. Because you broke us. I’m sitting here seething, knowing that you arekissing and touching him. I don’t understand. And I never will. No explanation will be good enough. I’m not sure I can ever forgive you.
Anyway, this is probably the last time I will get to communicate with you. I mean, I’m not going to beg you to come back to me. I have some dignity and pride. Your letter told me all that I need to know about where you are in life. But I want you to know how I feel. Maybe I didn’t tell you enough. God, I hate all of this self-doubt and questions that are swirling around in my head.
So if I can’t get answers, I’m going to tell you what I need you to know. Maria, loving you felt impossible. It felt surreal. It felt explosive. It felt illogical. But it felt worth it. You were the one woman that was worth it. I know that sounds weird to say but, when I’m with you, I lose all rational thought. You are the one thing in my life that I would give up everything for. Everything I thought I knew or wanted to be. Everything I own, or would own. Everything I needed or desired. I would have traded it all for you. I love you, Maria. Now and always. I truly hope you are happy. Because your happiness means more to me than my feelings for you. But mostly, I’m sad that this is the last letter I will write to you.
Yours,
Sam
Maria
As tears stream down my face, I delicately fold up the letter, holding it close to my heart.
In the darkness of my room, I sit on the edge of the bed, overwhelmed by the weight of the pain I’ve caused Sam. When I got home from work, I saw the letter resting on the counter, waiting for me. It’s been three days since I broke up with Sam. Three days of lying and pretending like this is what I wanted. Three days of packing up my things because, after Sam left, Chad handed me a key andtoldme I was moving into an apartment he was going to rent for me.
Essentially, Chad will have control over all aspects of my life. My job, my schedule, my money, and now, where I will live.
I don’t want to move, of course, but I have to. But for reasons that I am not yet ready to accept responsibility for, I am going along with it all.
Whenever Chad touches me or kisses me, it’s like needles stabbing my skin, and I have to fight the urge to run. It’s like a death sentence and a constant reminder of the choice I made. My flight or fight response kicks in, but I push it down. His touch feels foreign and borderline painful. Nothing like how Sam feels.
And honestly, since that day, Chad has been treating me with kindness and tenderness. The intimidating, scary person who was there that night seemed to disappear. I mean, why wouldn’t he be happy? He got what he wanted.
