Desire and Despair

Chapter 29

"Dear almost-husband,

Is that insensitive? It probably is, especially since you're about to become a real one, and our almost part is all on me. Still, it's a good joke. It took me a while to come up with it, so you'll simply have to hear it. Unless I chicken out again and just call you Nathan. But come on, that's boring. I'm doing that rambling thing again. You seem to have that effect. Even when an entire ocean is separating us. But despite all my jokes I really am sorry for turning you down. Your letter was so tragic. And I know you're happy with Rochelle and we've all moved on. But I still just wanted you to know. I am sorry. For whatever it's worth my answer was just as hard to say as it was to hear, and watching you go hurt even though I was the one to send you away. It was just that back then I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to tell you no. But I was scared to say yes. I wish there was something in between I could've given you. I guess there's always maybe. But that didn't feel right for something so big. You said all those beautiful things, you wanted me for the rest of your life, and I didn't even have a straight answer, just a maybe someday. Because truth was back then I still didn't really trust you, and I was scared to try and have it all. That's what you asked for, all or nothing when I just wanted to cling to the comfortable something we'd always had. I didn't want to be your everything. But I always wanted to be something. I know that sounds stupid and selfish and it was. But hey, I guess we can laugh at all that now, now that you're so above it all. And I'm happy for you, you know. You deserve to have it all with someone who's not afraid. And I'm glad you will. Rochelle sounds sweet. I'm sure she'll make you happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you, for me, for all of us. And I think we've achieved it, though I'll admit I always thought we'd do it together. But what did I ever know? I used to think I'd be happy with Jackson, Teddy, and about a million other guys. What's one more ending? Something always felt different about you, but then I guess I said that every time. This letter is such a mess. Your letter, on the other hand, was beautiful. You really didn't owe me a goodbye but I'm very selfishly glad you wrote one anyway. It kind of felt like catching up in a way. Except, of course, there weren't any chances to make my stupid jokes. We need to really talk for that, but this is good enough for now since I'm on a plane right now. I don't know when they'll expect me to turn off my phone. Hopefully not anytime soon. I'm kind of on a roll here. Anyways I hope your wedding goes well. I guess in a few hours I'll be there to see it for myself. Don't be nervous. I mean come on, you've had a little practice. And no matter what you can't mess up more than you did at our wedding. A little trip on that terrifyingly long walk down the aisle can't possibly compare to Teddy crashing our wedding and me fainting almost straight into the cake. We were really something back then. Almost straight out of a soap opera. It was fun while it lasted though. Remember how it used to be? I was so happy back then, back when I didn't even realize it because it felt so infinite. We had all those old inside jokes, random trips to Cuba, and peppermint sticks, and all those stupid little things that only ever meant everything to us. It's kind of sad to think you might not even remember those anymore. Inside jokes are kind of tragic that way. No one else knew them, they'll always be ours to carry on, but they'll fade into oblivion the moment we do. I guess they were only ever ours, only meant to last as long as there was an "us" to laugh at them while the rest of the world looked on in confusion. I kind of love that though, that no matter who might stumble on this letter, no one will get our jokes. They're just ours, forever. It's funny to think of us with any kind of forever. We never lasted long. We had so many plans, future parties we'd throw and jobs we'd get, and eventually our actual wedding. We never got beyond that. But I had the time of my life planning my future with you, even though it'll never come true. These days it seems like a million years ago. We're all grown up now. Almost all on to our second marriages. Hopefully, the second time's the charm for all of us. Except me of course. I'm just on dates with my manager, and by dates I mean we schedule shows and plan outfits until I feel like I'm losing my mind. I should probably be doing that right now. But instead, I'm here, writing to you. Just to say thank you I guess, and to give me something to do in the airport besides watch random couples argue. Who am I kidding? The fighting was hilarious. I wish you could've seen it. I think that about a lot of things you know. But anyway they finally got it together, so here I am typing away to you. Besides my overwhelming boredom and wanting to thank you, I guess I had another reason for this. I wanted to say goodbye. I don't know why this feels so final. You've already been married, forever ago. This won't be the first glass of champagne I raise to your happiness with another girl. But I guess when it was Katie I knew deep down you didn't want it to last. You went through the motions, but that's all they ever were. This is different. You're truly choosing it. Growing up, moving on. So I just wanted to say goodbye, for real this time. I know I'll see you tomorrow at the wedding and all that, and that'll be fun. But it'll all be a crazy whirlwind and I'm sure we won't get much time to talk so I just wanted to say everything now. But I guess we had our goodbye at Katie's party. I don't know what else I can say. For all my stupid rambling, there's no brilliant goodbye. I can say it in French I guess. Adieu. Maybe school was good for something. But there's no beautiful poem or anything. What is there left to say between us? I think I've been rambling all this time because I truly have nothing meaningful left to give you. I think some things are beyond describing. Some feelings can't be captured in a few simple words. We've always been better with the things left unsaid. And I don't think I can top our goodbye at the party. It was the best kind of closure we'll ever have, the happiest ending for our tragedy. We both chose to let go, and that was it. I'm just dragging it out now because I miss you. But there's nothing more I can give you.

So adieu, my dear almost-husband. Have a wonderful life. And please don't ask me to run off to Cuba tomorrow. I'd probably say yes."

The plane began to fall, spiraling through the sky. Everyone was screaming. Something about an engine being out. Please remain calm the loudspeakers ordered, but that was too much to ask. It didn't matter anyway. Unfortunately, a calm smile on her face wouldn't change the fact that the plane was about to hit the ground. Nothing would. As the hysteria swirled around her, her mind shot back to the message she hadn't sent. She should just do it, she realized. Screw leaving things left unsaid. She wished she had enough years to say it all. But this would have to be enough. She pressed send then, afraid to waste any more time. All her life she'd just been wasting time. She should've told him all this a long time ago. She should've done a lot of things a long time ago.

The plane kept spiraling. Heather felt sick with anticipation, half-wishing it would just happen. Reality always paled in comparison to the horrors of her imagination. Finally, it hit the ground. She couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't think. Darkness was engulfing her from all sides.

"Will you marry me?" Nathan asked, yelling a little over the waves echoing down on the pretty shores of Cuba.

She tried to say yes, but the words caught in her throat. He was turning away, leaving her again. Yes, she tried to cry, but he was too far to hear. Yes, yes, yes. But it wasn't enough.

The daydream was shattering.

She was walking down the aisle, as Nathan smiled at her.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both live?" the officiant asked.

She wanted to say I do, but the words wouldn't slip out. Nathan's smile was fading fast. She tried to cling to his hand but he jerked it away.

Nothing felt right. Her ring was shattering, no longer holding her to Nathan. Her dress was no longer white, dyed crimson by the blood seeping from her shoulder.

She couldn't feel anything but a persistent ache in her arm tugging her away from her delusions. Oblivion washed over her, pulling her away from her pain.

Now Nathan was marrying Rochelle.

"Speak now," the officiant called. "Or forever hold your peace!"

She sprung to her feet. "No!" she cried. "No stop! I love you Nathan!" Finally, they all turned, they all heard her. But no one answered, no one cared. She was too late. They'd run out of second chances.

She was out of time.