Voicemails to Will

two; of meetings

I want to be okay, Will. I want to hear your name without wanting to crumble. I want to retell the story of us, so that maybe one day, I can let it go.

God knows you already did.

Anyway, I talked to Rebecca today, ran into her, actually. She engulfed me in a big hug, and I tried not to think that this was my ex-boyfriend's sister.

Tears brimmed her eyes, but she still smiled, just like you.

"How're you holding up?" She asked, literally holding me up.

"Fine, fine," I lied as I repeated her question. She spoke fondly of Michael, of Michael's soft curls and his small hands.

She had a box of diapers in one hand, and a divorce decree in the other, and I wanted to cry all over again, Will.

She looked torn and crumpled. David promised her forever; he promised her always, Will. It's unfortunate that he reminds me of you.

"Will loved you, you know," she added after a pause.

"I know," I answered instinctively because in the time we shared together, those were the three words you said the most.

"Nora," you'd whisper, or shout, or sing, "I looove you."

"Okay, Will, I know," I'd laugh. "You don't have to tell me all the time."

You don't know how much I regret saying that Will. You don't know how much I'd give to hear you say that, just one more time.

But, less about that, back to happier times. Back to when you called me, "Nora," consistently and constantly stretching out the two syllable nickname.

The day after you dropped me off, I held my sack lunch in my left hand and fiddled with my trench coat with my right.

You were a few tables away, animatedly talking with your friends, and I didn't want to interrupt. Your friends were and wore blank faces.

As I turned around, your lovely voice called, "Eleanor!"

I took in a deep breath, put on my best attempt at a, "oh it's not weird meeting all twenty of your friends," smile.

"Guys," you hollered then gestured to me, "this is Eleanor."

Incoherent murmurs that I assumed were greetings erupted from the table. You slung an arm on my shoulder and whispered, "I'm glad you came."

Looking back on it, I'm not sure if my coming was a good thing or a bad. By the end of our relationship, my heart was shattered and mangled and torn and wrecked, and a million more synonyms of destroyed, Will. But at the same time, I fell in love with your contagious laugh, your warm hands, and you, and even though I still as my brother delicately put it, "look like shit," and feel like it too, I wouldn't give it up for anything.

You tried integrating me into your friend circle, tried getting me in on the inside jokes, and to a latter extent, tried and succeeded in getting me into your heart.

Days, weeks, even months passed, and soon each blank face had a name and a nickname.

Piper became my best friend. Jill became such a great friend of mine, as did Dylan, Parker, and Grant, and you, Will, well you became my other half. And I'm happy to say that to this very day, I'm still close to all of them, except you, of course.