Page 40 of Delayed Intention
So, this is me asking, can you forgive me? More than that, will you be my friend again?
I’m sorry I was an asshole at Hanukkah. I am sorry that I was ignoring you. In light of everything that happened since then—from Rose’s fall to the letter you had sent me… I can imagine that you feel betrayed. So many people in your life have let you down, and you don’t deserve that. You deserve understanding and friendship. If I could go back, I would’ve done that night so differently…but I didn’t. And here we are.
I want to tell you that the way I acted is not a reflection of you. I was simply behaving that way because I was afraid of how much your friendship has come to mean to me. I can see that now. The thing is, I don’t know why I’ve kept myself from being committed to anybody other than my work partners and my immediate family. Maybe it’s simple psychology? My father left right in the middle of my adolescence, and it wounded me. Maybe I’m stuck as an adolescent?
The unvarnished truth is that I don’t believe I’m capable of relationships. The way I behaved that night kind of proves my point, doesn’t it? Honestly, I don’t believe most people are capable of the personal sacrifice that being in a real friendship requires. I have seen some exceptions, of course. My sister Michelle and her husband, Alan, are the kind of people who are perpetually in love and almost make me believe in marriage. Almost.
The whole reason I acted the way that I did— ironically— was that I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. That night, at Rose’s, you looked so incredible, and I felt differently in that moment, toward you, than I should for a friend, and it scared the hell out of me. I’m not trying to excuse myself. I just hope you know that this was about me being messed up— and not about you.
What I’m saying is I don’t know how to be a friend to a woman. Especially one I find so attractive. But for you, I want to try. You are one of the most amazing people I know, Lily. I would try anything to have you in my life.
I miss you so much. I’ve always missed you, but now that I’ve had you back in my life, I miss you more than ever. I hope that you can forgive me.
Your poor excuse for a friend,
Josh
The Rescue
Lily, Estes Park, February 2025
“Let me see if I understand… Youhaveto go back?” Abbie is doing little to keep her teasing tone out of her voice. I know she can’t see me, but I roll my eyes anyway.
“Yes Abbs, I told you the venue had a fire and now we’re checking out the only two options left in town. A creepy, possibly haunted hotel, or a barn that Felicia may find too rustic. My mother would hate the barn.”
“Your mother’s gonna complain whatever ya’ll choose—so how about you pick the one you don’t mind spending time at?” Abbie tends to be direct when it comes to Mom, which used to make me nervous, but lately, I’ve come to appreciate it. In the past, my tendency was to be muddled between my self-doubt and Ellen’s chronic accusations that I didn’t care about her feelings. These days, I’m learning to be more objective about the difference between my mother’s opinions and reality.
“That’s not a bad idea Abbie. Listen, I’ve gotta go in about five minutes; I’m stopping for coffee before I drive into the mountains.”
“You doin’ okay?” She asks kindly.
“I think so.”
“How soon before you see Josh?”
“About an hour if I can bring myself to drive in. Maybe sooner if I need to be rescued.” I laugh, but it comes out uneasy, and I know it.
We say our goodbyes after I catch up on her news, which consists of the latest gossip around the clinic and a hot date she has later in the week.
After stopping for coffee in Boulder, I gather myself to drive up to Estes Park. I had forgotten how long this drive from Lincoln felt. I had decided earlier to break it up by stopping in North Platte. I grabbed lunch there before going to one of my favorite childhood haunts, the Buffalo Bill Ranch. It had seemed so large when I was little, but now, it’s more right-sized.
As I follow US-36 out of Boulder, I’m waiting at a light and text Josh where I am. Today, I’ve decided to try and drive into the mountains myself. Josh is on standby in case I have to pull over and give up. I’m hoping the fact that I’m in my car will give me a sense of power—enough to make it through—but we will see.
I have been super nervous about seeing Josh again. I’m no longer angry with him, but I’ve been avoiding him for an entirely different reason. Something strange has been happening since I read his last letter. It was the part where he wrote, ‘I felt differently toward you than just a friend.’ And he’d mentioned that he sees me as attractive. I don’t know exactly whathemeant by that, but I can’t stop thinking about him as more than a friend now. Not only is he in my head, he’s been in my dreams. In my subconscious, I imagine his arms around me, his lips on mine. I am hoping when he’s in front of me, I’ll just snap back to reality and move on. Maybe I should go on a date with someone else—except that I hate that idea. I groan and realize my grip on the steering wheel is near lethal. I try to relax before I induce a tension headache.
I make it as far as Lyons before I have to surrender. Between my anxiety about the drive and my nerves about seeing Josh, I am ill-equipped to complete the trip through the mountain pass today. I pull over at a shopping center with a market that appears to have a coffee shop in it and text Josh my location. He sends a message back to give him about thirty minutes to arrive.
Thankfully, Josh was able to hire a service to meet me so he could drive my car into Estes, sparing me from leaving my Honda in this random town. As I wait, I admire a giant snow pile that has been produced by plows in the corner of a parking lot. The mounds of snow look like a mini mountain range. The real mountain range looms behind it. A town car pulls up to my position just as I finish the latte I purchased inside and Josh steps out and waves at me.
He looks better than I remember, and I avert my eyes.
Since his last letter to me, I have not written back. I kept thinking about it and felt paralyzed. I texted him that I received the letter, and appreciated his sentiment. I just feel so emotionally exhausted from putting myself out there that I can’t bring myself to do it again. I can feel my fears preparing to raise the defenses around my heart. Talking to Monica this week, I’ve come to understand that many of my worries have stemmed from a desire to manage outcomes. But what can any of us control when it comes to interacting with other people and all the nuances involved? My biggest concern is that the next disappointment could boomerang me back into the place I was in before the high holidays. If I regressed enough, my mental health could destabilize, trapping me in old patterns. I can’t bring myself to risk retreating to that place of helplessness again. I wasn’t ready to share all that with Josh before today, but now, seeing him in person, I wonder how I can keep it all inside while in his presence again.
To take some of the pressure off of the task before us, Josh has put a deposit on both venues, so we have a little time to sort out where my brother will be getting married.
“Hello,” he says, smoothly sliding into the driver’s seat of my car.
I look up at him.
