Page 120 of Close Match
He smiles. “No. Just talk with me while I finish up. Tell me more about Bristol, Simon, and Alex.”
While I chatter with my father for a few more minutes about my sister, he douses the warm ashes with baking soda, using the shovel to mix them. After he scrapes them into a pail and puts them outside, and after I’ve shared Alex’s new trick of blowing bubbles when people get close to kiss him, we hug each other before each heading up to sleep.
In my room, I lie awake for a while, clutching a pillow to my chest. It’s hard not to wonder if I’ll ever get back the dreams I had in this bed when Monty lay here next to me.
I guess tomorrow’s letter opening will give me a better idea of that.
Seventy-Four
Evangeline
April
My boots crunch on the gravel as I carry nothing but the yellow envelope toward the studio. Char asked me if I wanted any company, but I shook my head. The next part of this journey has to begin with Monty and me, or it won’t happen at all.
The sounds of the horses being let out for some exercise stabilize my nerves as I approach the studio. I rest my head against the glass pane of the window. My heartbeat is racing. Why am I afraid?
“Because what lies behind those doors is a war,” I whisper aloud. “And I don’t know if I should be winning it or even if I should be playing it.”
Realizing the truth gives me the strength to depress the handle. I drift over to the sound system even as I’m slipping off my jacket and dropping the envelope. Fiddling with a few buttons, I kick off my shoes. My body automatically flows into the routine I’d been dancing that night before he came into the door. Exaggerated pelvic thrusts leading into chaines turns as I’m hearing the accusations he flung at me. Adamant marching as I stomp out the crushing words. A full-body roll into a pas de bourrée. Repeat on the other side. Double pirouette. A quick footstep combination ending in a ball change. I end with my one leg fully extended while raised on the other. My breath is coming in harsh gasps. And I’m shocked to realize that without having read a single word that no matter what, I may be a mess, but I will survive. I will walk out of this room stronger than when I walked in no matter what Monty may have to say.
I can do this.
Lowering my leg, I head over to the small bar. I grab a towel and dab at my face. I also open the minifridge, grateful it still has water in it. After lowering the music, I snatch up the envelope I dropped earlier before moving to the center of the room and sitting down.
It’s time.
Using my nail, I tear open the back and upend the envelope. A single sealed envelope with the same unfamiliar writing as on the yellow greets me.
Before I pull it out, I take a deep breath.
Linnie,
There are words all over this place. That may not make a lot of sense, but in my repeated attempts to write this letter, to attempt to try to apologize for what I’ve been told I did, there are enormous piles of crumpled papers lining the floor of my room. I’ve stepped on all of them as I pace back and forth to find the right words. And I’ve come to the conclusion there might not be any other than I’m so damned sorry.
I don’t know what happened because I have no memory of it. Nothing. There’s nothing there. The last thing I remember was going to the hospital to see Ev and waking up in another with my mother’s tears hitting my face. I don’t know how I didn’t manage to rip out the IVs to get to you; I was that fucking irrational at the thought of you being hurt.
But I was the one to hurt you.
Because of your strength, your honor, here is where I’m going to stay for a while. I have to because I can’t stand to look in the mirror.
I’m an alcoholic, Linnie. Other than my therapist, you’re the first person I’m saying the actual words to. Because you deserve to know them even if it’s in writing—even if you never read this.
I have to tell you. It’s tearing me up inside that I’m so weak. That I’m not the pillar of strength you need me to be. Not now. And maybe not ever.
I’ve also realized you can’t hate me any more than I hate myself for what I did. And I know I’ll never love another person the way I love you.
I take back what I wrote. I found some words I want you to have. Stay safe. Be happy. Don’t let what I did to you hide the glory of your light from the world. And please, God. Get help. Then let me go. Live your life to its fullest. Don’t let my illness leave you with any scars, mental or physical. I’ve already directed Mom and Dad to sell everything I own if the second is the case.
You were—are—the brightest star in my sky, Linnie. I wished for you, worshiped on you, and everything that was between us was real. My love for you was true. I’m just so sorry that with the dreams I wished for came your nightmares.
Monty
I wipe my eyes on the towel. I reread his letter twice, a third time.
I know what I want to say to Monty, but I don’t want to write a letter. Pulling out my phone, I send a text to Bristol.
Can you research something for me?I wait for her to respond.
