Page 149 of Come to Me
It's so hard to see her while having to maintain this distance.
I flip through the pages of the notebook. Every one starts the same--Dear Luke.
There must be two dozen letters in here.
I feel my stomach turn a little.
It's entirely possible every one of these letters come to the same conclusion--that they are all "fuck you, asshole."
But I have to read it to find out.
There's a message scribbled on the inside of the cover:
Here you go, Luke. Exactly what you asked for. This is every thought in my damn brain, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It's really, really damn ugly, but it's not like I've got anything to lose.
So here we go.
I pore over the pages. This is everything Alyssa's kept locked inside her for so long.
And she's finally sharing it with me.
Dear Luke,
God, I don't know where to start. I don't know if I want to hit you or kiss you or take Laurie up on her offer to have you killed. I don't know which would be more painful--living without you in my life at all or watching you move on with someone else.
I don't even know how I'm going to get through today.
I hate you so much right now. Haven't you ever heard the phrase "you have to be cruel to be kind?" A.K.A. you don't dump a girl in paradise then sweetly offer to make sure she's okay. You have to make sure she fucking hates you, damn it.
This is... awful.
Dear Luke,
Speaking of awful. Those last three months, huh? I'm still not sure what happened, why I wasn't strong enough to reach out to you. I know it made you give up on me.
Things were hard. We were far apart. I needed you, but you were also done dealing with my bullshit. It's not like I blame you. I'd do the same thing in your place. I don't mean to be so distant, so difficult. I really want to let you in. Hell, this is some sad attempt to do that. It's really more of a promise than anything, proof that I'm willing to try.
I was sure you were going to end things in New York, that you were waiting until after my show. You're so polite in my head, aren't you?
I wasn't all that wrong. You ended things shortly after my show. Was that your plan all along? If so, maybe skip the romantic vacation next time. I'd appreciate that. Or some other woman will appreciate it.
Shit, I can't stomach the thought.
Dear Luke,
Here's the truth.
Part of me thinks we're better off starting over. I'm less broken than I was a year ago. Maybe you are too. Maybe it would be easier with other people.
But I don't want that. I don't want easy. I want you.
Nicholas or Ryan didn't even put the idea on my head. I was already thinking it, that you weren't willing to be patient with me, that you're too damn romantic to deal with the day to day bullshit of all my baggage. I should have talked to you about it a long time ago. I should have done more therapy, stayed more vigilant about all my recovery work (don't worry. I haven't veered towards a relapse). I should have done a lot.
But it's better late than never.
I want to be with you, Luke. You make me happy. Maybe you don't see it, but you do. Sure, when things are off with us, I'm miserable. But I can't have the highs without the lows. Everyone gets mad. Every couple gets into fights.
I'm tired of running from it. I don't want to keep running from what I feel. Every time I make progress, I stumble backwards. But I can't have you living and dying by how well I'm functioning. If you don't want to be with me because you're sure I'm too much work, then fine. But don't bullshit me about how it's because I don't love you the way you love me.
