Dear Heartbreaker (Completed)

Letter # 11

A/N- Shout out to fatfaceheart  Twinning94 and Thewinter-star  for the wonderful comments and support. Check out their works!

Dear Heartbreaker,
1, 2, 3...everything changed as summer turned into Fall and I truly found out that tough times do come in threes. It's actually a bit disheartening to recall, bringing up feelings which I buried long ago. But in order to tell the end of our story we have to remember just where it started to fall apart. I found out about the first of the three major issues to split our relationship two weeks into our sophomore year of college...

I roll off of my dorm bed to walk over to the DVD player and eject the second movie of our Adam Sandler movie marathon. It's actually been raining all day which ruined our Saturday hiking plans. Thus, movie marathon and junk food date.

"I can't believe you think The Wedding Singer is the best film" you grump at me, "Happy Gilmore far outshines all others."

"I love Happy Gilmore too!" I exclaim, grabbing more chocolate before sitting down on my bed next to where you lay sprawled across the covers. "It's my second or third favorite."

You reach over and snag one of my mini recess as you declare, "Your priorities are flawed woman."

I smack his hand for stealing some of my precious chocolate. Chocolate and sharing just don't go together. "Whatever" I retort lamely, popping another chocolate into my mouth. Mmm, peanut butter chocolate decadence, melting on my tongue.

I'm about to ask you what movie you want to view next when you cell phone rings. You glance at the screen and whisper the word Dad on a harsh breath. Your fairly relaxed demeanor disappears and your shoulders hunch forward as you clench your hands. Your pinches and your forehead creases into a deep frown.

I reach out and lay a hand on your arm.

"Cole, are you ok?" I ask hesitantly, nervous because I've never seen you switch with such a 180 before.

You don't answer me at first, instead staring at a blank t.v. screen, as if gathering your thoughts. After five minutes of silence you respond, "My father wants a divorce. Mom is letting him."

I gasp, sadness and empathy filling my heart. Having lived through my parents' nasty divorce when I was a teenager, I can understand the pain and anger underlying the words you aren't saying. I wrap my arms around you and hug you tightly, not saying a word. You take short , shallow breaths, before speaking again.

"I don't get it. They've fought before. Why this time? Mom's been crying the whole last month and my father acts like everything is normal. It's not ok." You radiate more anger, breaking out of my hug to get up off the bed and pace around the small dorm room. Fortunately Janna is out of town this weekend.

"You found out last month?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah, after we all came home from a meeting with a potential Marines recruiter. They were both so composed when they told me but I heard Mom sobbing in her room later that night when Dad had left to 'go work at the office.' He didn't come home until almost midnight."

I take a sharp intake of breath, understanding the implication. Nobody wants to learn that one of their parents is having an affair and that their parents are getting a divorce.

My mind runs on overdrive, trying to compile the words that will help ease some of the pain I see so plainly written on your handsome face.

"Let me help you, please. You know you can talk to me about anything, always." My voice is pleading, urging you to turn to me for solace.

"I don't want to talk about it" you exclaim harshly, "you can't fix this, nobody can." Recoiling at your rough tone of voice, I sit up straight, back rigid against the head board, waiting to see if you are going to yell at me as some sort of way to vent your myriad of emotions you are struggling to keep from exploding within. 

Shaking your head, you walk over to me and take my hand, pulling me up off the bed. 

"Let's take a walk" you suggest, softer this time, as if trying to apologize for almost snapping my head off moments ago.

I follow you hesitantly, grabbing a light jacket and slipping on my Nikes. We walk down towards the track, one of the only places you feel truly in your element. We sit in the stands, silent. I feel suffocated by the silence but I don't dare say a word.  My thoughts race, like pinballs stuck in a pinball machine, bouncing and flinging their way around with no exit in sight.

Why didn't he tell me sooner? Does he not trust me? I just want to help him. I love him so much it's like a knife through the heart watching him in pain, knowing there is nothing I can do if he shuts me out.  What can I do to make things better? What is best for Cole?

After half an hour of sitting in absolute silence, you simply say, "I'll be fine."  Standing up, you walk me back to my dorm, kiss my forehead lightly, then take off in the direction of your dorm. I watch you walk away with a slight hunch of your shoulders, lost in a sea of stormy thoughts. Reaching out a hand toward your retreating figure, I whisper I love you before taking the four flights of stairs up to my floor.

Once I reach my room I fling myself on my bed and weep. Weep for the hurt boy who is trying so hard to pretend he is ok. Weep for the family dynamic that has irrevocably changed everything for you.  Weep for the loss of the light-hearted, joyful guy I can see slipping away. 

Maybe if you had chosen to allow me to get close to you, emotionally. Not just with the lovestruck honeymoon phase of the first year or of the empathy when I cried over the loss of my beloved grandfather. No, with every piece of you filled with every hurt, agony, fear, doubt, worry and hope...if only you would have let me help you carry that burden.  Even marines-in-training need assistance too. 

The next few weeks swept by us with fall creeping closer to winter. You would joke around and we spent almost every day together. Yet, it was different.  You smiled less and you became obsessed with becoming a marine and having a "perfect life." A perfect career, perfect wife, perfect family. Perfect, something you lost on that day in August when the sordid truth hit the fan and blame was laid out. Your ideal life, parents, future was marred by a broken marriage and an unfaithful parent. A parent you esteemed higher than any other person.  Now that your father had fallen from the pedestal you erected in your mind, everyone else was seen as flawed and broken too, even me. 

This obsession with becoming a true marine was the second blow to our relationship.  Your buddies cursed and talked about hurting those in other countries considered dangerous. You adopted their 'tough as steel, unemotional as a statue' motto.  The more I displayed my emotions, the deeper you buried yours.  Although you were affectionate, there was now a distance between us.

You placed your perfect ideal above everything else in your life. Slowly, I became just another piece in your elaborate plan to control everything around you.  Sitting at 4th or 5th place on your list of priorities, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever be seen as anything else but someone to mold into the perfect Marine officer's wife?

My insecurities built up and by mid-October, I began to truly doubt the foundation of our relationship and your commitment to me.  Despite my previously optimistic attitude and my own preconceived notions about perfectionism, I wasn't ready for the assault which ultimately broke us.

The assault which came in the form of her. 

Yours not so truly,

Elise