For my love, Celia St. James

Fifth letter

My Dear Cece,

I'm sorry. It's been such a long time since the last time I wrote you a letter. I had some unfinished business to fix before leaving. Don't worry, my love, soon the world will know the truth. Our truth.

I've spent half of my life trying to get where I wanted and the other half realizing how much time I have wasted running after an image of myself that I don't even like. The blonde American diva everybody knows and loves is a fake. I'm not a good actress, but people really believe the story I told them. No one knows the real me, but you. You could read through me. You knew when something bothered me. You knew my weaknesses and despite everything, I trusted you. I felt like I could come at your door and tell you "Hi, Celia...I killed someone. Can you help me bury them?" and you would have said "Hell, yeah."

People think intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them and their response is "You're safe with me"- that's intimacy. You knew every part of me and you weren't scared. You loved the real Evelyn Hugo unconditionally.
I wish I had done the same for you. You deserved to be loved unconditionally.

Maybe now it's too late, but I like to think that you lived your last years by my side happily. I sure did.

I love you so much.

I miss you deeply.

Love,

Evelyn Hugo