This is Not a Love Letter

(To my dearest)

(Dear Mister)

Edmund,

                I don’t know why I am writing this. Especially now, of all times. Maybe I just needed something to tell my thoughts to, to share memories with, you know, like I used to do with you.

                Remember back when we were children? It felt like it was eternally summer. We used to go outside and play every afternoon. I think the place we went to the most was definitely that little red sandbox, in the park. We used to pretend it was our own little kingdom. You were the king, I was the queen, and it our kingdom was wonderful indeed. But then something changed, I guess, as cliché as it may sound. You grew up, and I grew up. We drifted apart. And yet I never really forgot about you. Never really thought about you, per se, but I did not forget. How could I? You were my first friend.

                When we spoke again it was high school, I believe. I still remember how I bumped into you then, I even remember how you dressed. You were wearing a glossy, black, leather jacket, with a pair of jeans and shiny black boots. You even had a bandanna around your head. I was in a traditional bunny costume. It was Halloween, of course. We were both on the way to the party that that girl, who for the life of me I can’t seem to recall the name of, was hosting. We talked, had a few drinks. Eventually one thing led to another and we started seeing each other more until we just started dating. I mean, everyone did think so, at least, and you weren’t against it and I wasn’t against it so I guess that was how we ended up together.

                Those were the happiest days of my life. No, I don’t think I have ever been happier than when I was with you back then. But everything came crashing down that winter night. Oh, I’m sure you remember. It was dark, of course, as all nights should be, and the snow fell ever so gently. I decided to surprise you, I even brought a bottle of whisky and a small stack of blankets. Lo and behold, when I got to your backyard, I found you there, all warm and cosy with that girl whose name I really cannot remember. I dropped the whisky and the blankets and ran back home, sadly the bottle didn’t break because it landed in the snow.

From that day on I dropped all contact with you. When you came over, I told my parents to give you one excuse or the other. In school I avoided you like the plague. No, no one could convince me to give you a chance. It was clear as day, that you cared for that nameless girl. I have read enough romance novels wherein the girl sees her boy with another girl and dreadfully misunderstands but I knew, I felt it in my bones, that you did not care for me the way that you did for her. How did I know, you ask? Well, I could see it. Just because I avoided your presence doesn’t mean that I wasn’t there when you were speaking to her. Smiling at her. Sending her those little notes you used to send me. Being classmates seemed to have made me witnessing all that unavoidable, I guess.

You moved on fairly quickly. Not anything like the novels where the boy does everything to try to get the girl back. No, I don’t think you even wanted me back. I counted it all. You came to my house twice. You tried to approach me in the hallway once. You called me on the phone once. See? Let it not be said that I have a penchant for exaggerating. Not that I could blame you, I guess. I was not the most beautiful, or the most intelligent, or even the most charming woman you could meet.

I even pictured it in my mind, how one day you oh-so-valiantly discover the error of you ways, and return to me like a knight in shining armour. And so time passed. We did not keep in touch. I did not even want to see your face ever again.

I went to college. Got a good job as a coroner, it wasn’t the best but it paid the rent and I was satisfied. I found someone else. I moved on. I heard from a mutual acquaintance that you had married that girl you left me for in high school right after graduation. I can’t say that I was ecstatic. It was painful, but in my heart I wished you the best. How could I not, when you were my first sweetheart?