Page 75 of Reckless Liar

She sighed loudly, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “Not that it matters. If I don’t get a full ride, there’s no way I can afford it. I don’t think college is in the cards for me. I kind of want to go to LA.”

“Los Angeles?”

Eloise nodded at me. “I need to get out of here.”

I nodded at her. “I know you do. I’ll help you. College, LA, whatever you choose. You know that right?”

She frowned at the ground but nodded at me. “I didn’t want to see you just to talk about LA or college,” Eloise admitted. She kicked the bark under her sandal. I worried for a moment about her toes getting cold, but I didn’t say anything.

“No?” I asked, looking at her. Once again, she was wearing my old sweatshirt. I vowed to let her go through my closet and pick out a few things. If she was going away, she couldn’t leave town with her meager wardrobe. I knew most of the nicer stuff she wore were outfits she borrowed from friends.

“No. I was going through some stuff the other day and I found this.” She pulled a crinkled envelope out of her sweatshirt pocket.

Eloise slowly handed me an envelope; the seal ripped open. I looked at the front and was surprised by the familiar messy scrawl I never thought I’d see again. Tentatively, I pulled the letter out. Written on lined notebook paper, the scrappy border was still attached. I fought the urge to pull the perforated edge off.

Dear Ana,

I know you’re a sucker for that epic love story bullshit. I suppose this is my form of a fucked-up love letter. Just this once, I’ll tell you the truth.

I’m a shitty person. I don’t know if you know that about me. You never seem to realize it. You should’ve stayed away, back when we were kids. I think about how different both our lives would’ve been if we hadn’t kissed that day in the field. I don’t know how different my life would’ve been, honestly. I was never going anywhere. Even if I’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to get out of Ridgewood. I’m pretty sure every choice I’ve made would’ve led me right back here. Back to this shitty town with my shitty friends.

But you, my Ana-Sweet, you really could’ve been something. All the places you could’ve gone without me. All the things you could’ve been. A bigger man would have seen that and let you go. But we both know what kind of man I am.

I love you. I hope you never doubt that I do love you. I love you more than anything else in my life.

In any drug and alcohol addiction program there are steps you’re supposed to take toward recovery. You start at the beginning, admitting you’re powerless against the substance and the drugs have become more crucial to you than anything in your life. Powerless. Shit, if that’s not the story of my life.

You’re supposed to make amends to those that you’ve wronged. Some of this is easy. Apologizing to my old boss for all those times I left him hanging with no one to open the shop. To the friends who had to bail me out of jail. My sister for that time I forgot to pick her up from school, or finally having your best friend pick her up from the police station when no one could get a hold of a family member.

But the stipulation to making amends is that you don’t cause further harm to those you love. So, this is my letter to you, my Liliana. What good can ever come of having you see this? How could anything I say make up for the shit I put you through? A letter I’ll never send. I have to do this to recover but I pray you’ll never see this. Because what kind of amends will I make, making you hate me forever? I’m getting off track here.

You never saw the real me. I’m not big on reminiscing. All this shit you always try to get me into.

“Max, did you like me right away?”

“Oh, of course. I thought you were so brave.”

“Max, did you know we’d end up together?”

I’d hug you and give you that smile I know looked the sincerest, and you’d settle into me.

I hate to think back, but that’s what this step is all about right? So here we are, this is what you never understood about me.

There were times when I knew I should’ve left you alone. Turning points, you might call them. Maybe if I’d stayed in Boise, maybe if I hadn’t kissed you that day in the field. Maybe if I hadn’t been the one you hugged that first day on the road when my stepdad was trying to beat us up.

Would your life have been better? I don’t know. Like I said before, I’m a selfish prick when it comes to you. Your life may not have been better with me in it, but you were always the best thing I’d ever had. Take what you will from that.

You were always a big believer in all that destiny shit. Signs and fate and all that crazy mysticism. I never believed in any of it. Bad stuff happens, and then good stuff, and worse.

I don’t know where I fall in your life.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am for all the things I’ve done. For kissing Carrie, for the other girls, for all the times I fucked up and you were there to help me. When it comes down to it, I don’t think I’m capable of even saying sorry. One apology could lead to more, and I don’t think I could handle you knowing all the awful things about me. I want to be so much more for you. I know I fail at that, but it’s the truth.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to prove that I can be better, that I can make it up to you. We’ll have that epic love story and all that bullshit, I don’t know. All I do know is I want to be with you. I want you. And hopefully you want me.

And isn’t that enough?

~Max

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