Living with Jennifer Lawrence

[67:] Letters

Josh

Panic flooded through me.

I couldn't let her sleep like this. With teary eyes, I gently picked up the ring and headed upstairs with it.

I placed Ryan back in his crib, and he slept.

Jen sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands, crying.

I had no words. My throat closed up and I was unable to speak. The best I could do was to hold the ring up in front of her face, to see if she had an explanation for this.

“I don't know if I can do this anymore,” she said as she wept.

I merely stood there, stunned.

“I hate that we fight all the time,” she continued. “I never grew up in a bad environment, and what about the kids? They don't deserve that.”

“But we have always worked out our problems,” I plead. “We don't fight all the time and you know that. And if this is about your anniversary, I didn't forget, I'd never forget.”

She was silent.

“Take this,” I said, handing the ring to her. “Please, just take it.”

Again, no words. But the tears in her eyes said it all.

I, too, became choked up with words. “If you don't want to talk, fine, but hear me out.” I went to the closet and reached for the top shelf. There was something I wanted to find.

“What are you---?”

Hidden behind several shoeboxes, I pulled out another box. But this one didn't have shoes in it, for there was something far more special inside.

Blinking back tears, I opened the box and revealed its contents.

“Three years ago,” I began. “On our wedding night, we wrote these.”

That moment, she lost it.

“You remember, you have to,” I continued. “On our wedding night, after the celebration was over, we sat in our bed together and wrote letters to each other.”

I let out a shaky breath. “And we even agreed to read them when times get hard. I never read yours, and you never read mine.”

I allow my words to sink in before I continue.

“And I know that you...”I swallow down tears. “Might want to end our marriage”--the words feel sour in my throat---“and you might not want to be with me anymore, but before you make any major decisions, read this.”

I pull out our letters that were written on fancy cream-colored paper and wrapped up in shiny gold ribbon. I hand her the one that reads: To Jen. I haven't read it in over three years.

Her fingers brushed mine as she took the letter, and after careful consideration, she opened it. I'm not much of a writer, but I poured my heart out into that letter.

I figured that now was the time to read hers, so I did:

Josh,

When I first met you, I was completely unaware of how much you would mean to me.

We could never recall the first time we saw each other. We'd always go back and forth on a few blurry details, trying to piece it all together.