Just landed in SF! I'll be pretty busy the next few days.
My heart stops beating, but he doesn't even stop talking. He just said "I love you" to me for the first time, the first non-platonic time, and he doesn't even expect me to give him a response. "Everyone told me pretty much what you'd expect to hear," he continues. "Get out, move on, don't waste your feelings if he'll never feel the same, get rid of any 'friend' who steals your boyfriend, don't look back, you don't need anyone else to be complete, no one else can solve your problems. They didn't have to tell me, really. I already knew all that, and I didn't want to want you back."
"I know that feeling. I mean, not what it was like for you, just... I wished I could just be over you." That's not enough. I have to address what he said. There are really only two good ways to receive an "I love you." I can say it back, or I can kiss him. Or both. Those aren't options. That leaves me with the bad ways. I could ignore it, which seems to be what he wants, but it'll hang over me if I do. I could acknowledge it without giving any feedback, but no matter what I say or don't say, he'll have to interpret it somehow. I could try to explain where I stand, but I'm not sure I'd succeed. It's fuzzy. It depends on too much, and I can't really identify all my emotions right now, much less articulate them. My heart is beating again, but it feels uncomfortable in my throat.
I have to at least express some appreciation. I knew, and he knows I knew, but it's still a big deal, at least to me. He said it. I can at least try to be honest with him. Deep breath. No, this is Scott. He doesn't listen. He hears what he already believes, and somehow we always end up fighting. But I forgave him. Deep breath. I have to get this right the first time. Think of him. He's tired and cold with heartache. He doesn't want false hope or empty promises. All I can give him is what I have. "Scott... I'm sorry the timing isn't what you wanted. I want you to have another chance someday. A real chance when all this is finally over, when you and I are back on the same wavelength, and when you choose. I want that for you. Well, for us."
He looks... concerned. "It's okay," I tell him. "Really. We have all the time in the world. We'll do it right, follow all the rules. We'll make it work." It feels like the only option, at least for me.
"You don't want it."
"Please don't tell me what I want."
"You were just... it wasn't real. You were pretending."
I'm not sure how to persuade him after that. "I don't know what to say. I'll prove it to you someday. We have time."
"I've changed."
"Shhhhhh. Close your eyes. Get comfy. I'll grab you some blankets."
"The album."
"I'll wait until you wake. Do you have anything today?"
"Is that a rhetorical question?"
"What time?"
"Noon. Downtown."
"Sleep fast then. I'll wake you."
"You'll be here?"
"All day. As long as you want."
"There's more."
"You're doing great. I won't even speak to Esther until you've had your chance. Be right back."
I step into his room for blankets. I'd give him mine, but I could use a little more sleep myself. Everything is clean, and his Grammys are all lined up on the headboard, collecting dust. There are no photos. The bed is made, but I'm about to unmake it. The only indication anyone lives here is the paper on the bedside table. It's all curled up tightly like a scroll. What is it? Dear Scott... Nope, I'm not going to add reading his letters to the list of ways I've screwed up. I can't help reading the inscription, though. Just behind the rolled up paper rests a heavy gold band, engraved inside with the words, "For you."
It doesn't just mean this song is for you or these flowers are for you or this ring is for you. It means all of me is for you. That. I want that, from someone. Looking at it, I don't know who to be jealous of. Neither of them, I guess. It didn't work. It ended horribly. I pull Scott's comforter off his bed and bring it to him. He's half asleep already, but he mumbles his thanks.
I try to sleep, but the letter in the room next door is burning in my mind. Dear Scott. Fifteen pages of Alex's thoughts. To Scott. He used to tell Scott everything. Is that still true? I'm not supposed to care. I'm not supposed to care. I'm supposed to sleep. Those are the thoughts that helped Scott change his mind, though. They helped him see the whole picture. Maybe if I just understood better... no.
What now? Maybe I can keep some distance, compromise. I don't have to move in or go on tour. We can just hang out now and again like normal friends do. We can start small and maybe build up over time.
I wake Scott as late as I can. While he's away, I'll unpack my things back at my apartment and go to tonight's interview. Then I'll come back and make music until he returns. I've lost my ability to sit around doing nothing for longer than about ninety minutes. When he comes back, we can listen to the album and he can tell me more about the last three years.
He pauses at the doorway. "Did you..."
"Esther. She took them with her when she left." Scott couldn't see the door at the time, but she quickly and quietly balanced all the wine and spirits he received in her arms and closed the door behind her with her foot. Even the fact that he couldn't see the doorway might have been because of her. She stood on the far side of the room perhaps because she knew they wouldn't nag at his peripheral when he faced her. She's been doing this for so long. Maybe she can help me.
I wave goodbye to Scott and start walking toward my apartment, away from home. I'm almost there when Alex calls.
