Desire and Despair

Chapter 28

"Hey Heather,

We haven't talked in forever. I just thought we should because...I'm getting married tomorrow. It's for real this time, or at least I think so. Andrew swears on all his old Boy Scout honor that he hasn't done any meddling. There are a million things to do, but instead of being out partying, I'm at home on the couch, writing a heartfelt email to you, my good old ex. I'm looking for anything to do at this point-anything but simply go to sleep, because once I do I'll have to wake up. Not to say I don't want tomorrow to happen-it needs to, hard as it may be it's right-but I just wish it wasn't coming so soon. I'm terrified. I guess I can admit that to you. Didn't think it would go over well with Rochelle, not when this is supposed to be the happiest day of both our lives, when I should be like a kid before Christmas, unable to sleep from giddy excitement, not abject terror. But I don't know, I feel like you'd get it. And even when it's not the eve of my wedding I'm trying to keep busy these days, in the wake of my prison stint. I've gotten so used to the rules and rigor I hardly know what to do with myself half the time. What do I do now that no one's paid to care anymore? But still, I'm so grateful to be out, even if I do feel a little lost. It's so nice to have perspective, to realize all of life isn't awful, I was just in an awful place for a while. When you're somewhere like that long enough you forget the whole world isn't that miserable-I hardly even had the motivation to get out when I could, you get brainwashed into thinking nowhere else is any better, that the whole world is just as bad, that you might as well stick around, at least you're familiar with it. But the whole world isn't the same. Everything isn't awful. It's nice to remember every now and then. Anyway, I figured I owed you this because in a way I think we both thought it would be us up there one day. We almost had it all that day back in Cuba. And I guess in a way I always thought we'd find a way to bring some of that magic back here. But it turns out second chances aren't always that easy. Sometimes goodbyes really are for good. So now I'm here, saying goodbye to you for the last time on my tiny screen because that's the closest I can get to looking you in the eye these days. And you'll be here tomorrow and Rochelle will make you tea, and it won't even be awkward because she's so utterly unfazed by everyone, and you'll get all dressed up, and you'll watch me step into my new life. And I know we're both happy with where we ended up. I just feel bad, that I couldn't be loyal forever, that someday I had to grow up, to move on. I know you don't miss me, and our crazy, toxic rollercoaster, but it still feels wrong. I promised I'd love you forever, so long ago in Cuba, and in that moment I truly did mean it. I know the truth was a game to me, but I swear that wasn't a lie. You can't fake the way I said those words because I'd never meant anything quite so much. I really did love you. And I really did mean for it to last. But I was young then. I didn't know how easily life can get flipped upside down. I had to learn how to live in a brand new world, and you can't blame me for finding someone to hold onto my hand, make it all a little easier, and say yes to the future you didn't want. You know, the day I asked you to marry me, my whole family knew. My parents were on standby the whole day, dying to hear your answer. We hadn't talked in forever, but that day I was so excited I could've shouted my plan out to every stranger on the street. Andrew was most excited, even more nervous than he'd been for his own proposal because he never failed, but I was unpredictable. Still, he really thought you'd say yes, and even if Katie was his first-round pick, he was still happy I was settling down, and saving him a small fortune in the meantime. Disney trips aren't free after all. So he planned me a whole party, had it all, perfect as ever, champagne chilling over ice, plenty of guests lit up with anticipation, all ready to clap when I came inside. But when I asked that fateful question, you said no, and it broke my heart. I saw in your eyes that yours was breaking too, but somehow that only made it worse. I still went over to Andrew's house after it all went down, for comfort I guess. For a moment, when I walked in, they clapped, prompted by the same idealism that let me ask you so confidently to marry me. They all offered their best smiles and cheered on a future that would never come. After a few moments, they realized I was suspiciously alone, and trailed off awkwardly. I didn't know what to say, I had a whole speech planned out, for the whole crowd, but really only for you, all our memories. I could've listed so many things I loved about you, but you didn't even want to hear that I did. I could've said a thousand words, but you ran at four, so I just stood frozen, finally shut up. For the moment though, back then, even the nicest people were desperate to escape the awkwardness, so suddenly everyone had some terribly important responsibility they had to rush off to. After it ended I grabbed a glass of champagne, to drown my sorrows, not toast my victories any longer, and moved on. I buried that ring in the bottom of my dresser and didn't see it again for years. I found a new hand to wear it soon enough, but it couldn't be Katie's ring, not when deep down I still hoped someday it could still be yours. It was only in my wildest dreams that I really believed in that, but it stayed safely in my dresser anyway, for a day that might never come. I was still haunted, by the echo of the cheers for the "yes" you could never say. It was like a glimpse of a future that could've been, tauntingly sweet, and yet always so short, abruptly trailing off. I chased that empty echo for years, letting it replay in my head, tantalized by the way they'd all really believed it could be us for a moment. Those strangers had more faith in us than you ever did. But tomorrow I'm going to stand in front of a crowd and they're all going to cheer, on and on and on, for a future I'll really have. I dug that old ring out. I finally felt okay letting it go, because I'm not waiting for you anymore, I'm not waiting for anything. I have pictures now, so many they clutter up the living room walls and I'm not sure what to do with them all, I have memories, so many they make a muddle of each other, I have reality. I want to hold a girl in my arms, not just my heart, see her by my side, not just in pictures in the back of my mind. But no matter what my future holds, I think the best times of my life will always be with you, in that small space where all the dreams I had for us met with a little bit of reality. And I know this isn't really the end of the story, I'll go on, and so will you, to be honest you'll probably be better off. It was always people like me bringing you down, dragging you into our psychotic adventures. I saw you on TV the other day, your career has really taken off. I was so proud when I watched everyone clap for you, it made me so happy that they all love you. I mean, it's pretty cool to get to say I used to date a supermodel. And it finally felt okay that I wasn't cheering you on in the front row when half the state of New York was, it felt okay that I won't spend my life loving you when I remember the rest of the world will. I'll admit, though, when I made it to a show I did feel a little stupid among the crowds. All those adoring people and I was just another one of them, just another fan leaving flowers and going home thinking of someone who wouldn't think of them. They were mostly preteens-immature, obsessive, slightly terrifying-you know the type-and there I was with them, no better, no more grown, screaming words you couldn't hear from the sidelines with the rest of the world. Of course, they didn't know you, they were cheering for a stranger, and I was standing there with them, behind the barricades, for the girl I used to think I knew best. I tried to justify it with that, say I knew you, but to everyone else, I looked just the same, another crazed fan without even the excuse of youth. I think I never did grow up when it comes to you, I'll always want you like a little kid, selfishly and unreasonably, obstinately and forever. I guess deep down I wasn't so different from the crowd. Maybe I didn't ever really know you either, maybe I've spent all these years in love with nothing more than the idealized anonymous. Maybe my only purpose in life was to be another voice in the crowd cheering you on, just another groupie. Doesn't seem like such a bad fate though. Even if I can never accomplish anything for myself there's a certain gift in idealizing, in taking the beautiful and making it divine, in creating the only perfection of a fundamentally imperfect world, if only in my head. I may never get what I want, but I sure am good at wanting it. I waste away my time when I'm meant to be productive working away at my job or choosing ties for my groomsmen, trying to work out better ways to express feelings I won't ever be honest about anyway. There's no practical purpose, it's just nice, to have this one thing I'm a natural at it. I may not know how to practically work, and I may not know what color scheme would match Rochelle's pre-planned one, but I was born good at loving from afar-or at the very least practicing it never felt like a chore, I never cared to be good until the day I was. It never mattered how repetitive and shallow my sentiments may have been to begin with-words you know you'll never say don't have to be eloquent. Even now that I can express beautifully, I don't speak a word of it aloud. Even in this moment, laying all my cards on the table for you, past the point of all return, I'm making you read my feelings. I'd probably sound ridiculous saying all this out loud, some things only sound good written out. My thoughts are only worth anything transcribed. I swear, people who have only heard me speak probably think I'm an idiot. I'm only halfway coherent on paper. Probably why I find dramatic plays so stupid. If any of them really felt those things so deeply they'd keep it to themselves-but instead they shout out everything for the sake of exposition. The intensity of some feelings isn't meant for the crudeness of spoken words. Either that or I'm just a coward. But I've made my peace with my fate-I'm no good at having, holding, maintaining-and even if I could somehow cling to perfection, attaining it would take away all the artfulness of my pining, leave me a talentless man if a happy one. I need the desperation for inspiration. You're my muse you know, in way. I may have never painted you a picture, or written you a song, but you've inspired this whole life I'm living and I think that's worth more. If the world ever knows my name they'll know your face, see your spirit imbued in all I've ever done, every fragment of my life allegory to the memory of you. You ignited my imagination, gave me a dream, and taught me how to idealize. It's a heady, god-like power: I may not be able to create humanity, but I can perfect it. Not that you ever took much imagination, even your reality was half-fantasy. In chronicling you all I ever had to do was transcribe exact reality and call it creativity. If there's a god out there I'm no more than a cheap plagiarist of his work. I'm such a fraud, pretending I'm capable of imagination, when all I ever had to do was glance over at what was right next to me. I'm beginning to think there's no such thing as fiction, only different ways of rendering reality. But hey, at least I'm good at the rendering. You were so easy to want-I've never believed in soulmates, but if anyone was made for me it's you...though it seems the whole world shares that sentiment. And that's what you deserve, not just my imperfect love, but everyone's. You were born to be adored, forever surrounded by a flurry of bright camera flashes and cheering crowds. Your face was made for pictures, and your name was made for headlines. As for me, I don't know what my future holds. I don't know where I'll be in five years. I don't know where I'll be in five minutes. But I can't keep waiting for you. I'm going to attempt to move on. I'm going to get married. That sounds so surreal. That's what I wanted so long ago, with you, and now here I am a nearly married man, while you're practically a celebrity. I guess in a way we both got what we wanted. I have the fiancée and you have the legacy. Everybody wins, just not together. We had to split up our team, divide and conquer.

So goodbye, Heather Hanson. I think for good this time. I don't know. Maybe I'll ask you to run away to Cuba with me tomorrow. Do me a favor, be the reasonable one, and laugh in my face."