Dear Meggie

January 4th, 2013

January 4th, 2013

 

Dearest dear Meggie,

I cannot tell you how much I deeply regret killing Will. I could have stopped it. I could have, and I didn’t, and you cannot believe how much that weighs me down.

And at the funeral, when it was my turn to speak, and his mother’s wails echoed in the church, and my click clack of my heels against the marble floor up to the podium softly rang in everyone’s ears, I had no clue what to say. So I said this:

“I cannot even begin to fathom how much I regret his death. I… saw him, drunk, at the party. I could have stopped him. I should have stopped him. But I didn’t. Will and I were… still are… very close, and I can only begin to comprehend what his girlfriend Meggie must feel at his death. But let me just say this. He wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t some embodiment of perfection that everyone always thought he was. Because everyone has their secrets.”

I stared at the crowd of people. And his mother wailed even more and cried out his name, and I lowered my gaze, and took my seat back next to you, and you hugged me, and began to sob into my chest.

After the funeral, we were sitting on a bench together in the churchyard, and you looked at me, and you said, “I know,” and I said, “About what?” and you said, “About the kiss?” and I said, “What kiss?” and you sighed and said, “The kiss at Skeeter’s Halloween party.”

Oh. Right. That kiss seems nothing compared to the things I did on New Year’s Eve. “I’m so sorry, Meggie,” I said, “I knew I wasn’t thinking straight-”

“I saw you two that night, but I just passed it off, expecting you to tell me. But then you got all close to him, as if you two were best friends. And you never made a move on him. And I respect you for that.”

Yeah right I never made a move on him. We kissed, several times after that. “And then he asked me out. And you kept away from him. And me and him fell in love, in the short time we were together. And I thank you for that.”

And you hugged me again, and began to cry, and I cried, too, but not because of you loving Will, or that my time with him was short as well, or because you knew all of the wrong things. But I cried because no one knew Will. Everyone knew some twisted up version of him, and I couldn’t change that. He died before I barely had the chance to tell him I loved him.

And I really did love him, Meg. I did.

-Harriett