Letters For You

Please, forgive me?

Write a story, a letter, or anything else about forgiveness                    
Tuesday, October 31st,2017

By Emily Davis

Write a story, a letter, or anything else about forgiveness. That is the assignment for this week. I decided to ask for your forgiveness. Not because I wasn't there when you needed me the most. Not because I don't visit you often enough. Not because I didn't keep my promise in tenth grade. But because I went on a date last night. Oh, trust me, it ended very abruptly. The whole thing was very short. The poor guy probably thinks I am crazy.

I was sitting at the library, casually reading the assigned novel in my English litt class when some guy sat in front of me. I had never saw him before but, apparently, he was in my philosophy class. He asked if I had the book the teacher asked me to read on me. Which, of course, I did, you know me. So, I landed it to him and he asked what I was doing later. I said nothing because I never have anything planned. Then, he asked me if I wanted to grab coffee with him. He could give me back my book and we could talk about what we thought of it. Innocent me said yes. Naïve me didn't see it coming. I had never been asked on a date before. When we started seeing each other, we met at school. Before it became official, we had never been out to dinner just the two of us. So, I blame you. I blame you for not teaching me the signs. You never subtly flirted with me. It was always obvious with you. The fact that I had seen you naked probably helped. So, I didn't recognize the signs that this boy wanted to date me.

I went. He asked what I wanted to have. Guess what I ordered? Salty caramel latte. I know you guessed it right. You never asked me what I wanted, you knew. You knew when I wanted regular coffee. You knew how I drink my coffee. You knew I hate espresso, but he doesn't. Because he isn't you and he doesn't know me. But it's okay, that's not the point of this letter.

So, we had coffee and talked about the book. Poor guy probably thought it was going well. We went for a walk afterwards. He said he would walk me to my dorm. We exited the coffee house and there it was. There you were would be more appropriate. Your cologne. I could smell you. The distinctive smell that I associate you with. I would know that smell anywhere. I have your old bottle. I push-push some on your shirts so that they smell like you. I immediately stopped walking. He stopped too. It was still there, the smell. I asked him the name of his cologne. Yours. He was wearing your cologne and he had the nerve to tell me it usually works on the ladies. I slapped him. And then I ran. Yep. You read right. I slapped him and ran. Ran far, far away from the smell.

So, I went on a date. A very short date, but a date nonetheless.  And I am sorry. I was not ready. If I had known, I would have said no. I am sorry for cheating even if it's not technically cheating. Because you're gone and you're never coming back. It still felt like that though. It felt like cheating. On many levels, I think I have moved on. But I am not ready to feel someone else's hand in mine or someone else's lips kissing mine. I am not ready to be with someone else yet and I know it would upset you if you would see me so, I am sorry. I am sorry for still being in love with you.

I promise you I'll date again. But not today. Not now. Right now, I am fine reliving our memories. I am not ready to say goodbye to you just yet. Let me hold on, please. Just a little while longer. Please, forgive me.