COMPLETED. A university student. A professional hockey player. They've proved they can be friends. Can they be more?
Although they're both in their early twenties and living in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, their lives couldn't be more different. Cami...
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From: camille.riccardiatmail.uwinnipeg.ca
To: taylorhudson27atgmail.com
Subject: Sorry, but I have to
Hey Taylor,
So it looks like email has become our thing after all. I'm not sure how often you check it or if you'll even read this, but I'm just going to say what I want to say and whatever happens, happens. (If there are typos or something that doesn't make sense, sorry. I'm not going to read this over before I send it. If I do, then I might not end up sending it.)
First, I wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about your Uncle. I'm not sure if I ever told you this, but I saw a lot of him in you. Like you were made by both your parents and him. (Sorry if that sounds gross, but I'm sure you'll know what I mean.) I'm not sure how much time has to pass before you feel okay about it all, about him, but I doubt we've gotten there yet. I sincerely hope you're okay. (This wasn't meant to be about your Uncle, but I guess he made an impact on me, too.)
What I wanted to say, in case I hadn't made it clear enough before, is that I don't think we can see each other like we used to. I don't expect you to understand (I wouldn't have before I met you), but it's actually really damn hard to be around someone you love without them feeling that way about you. I hope you never have to feel this way.
I'll always cherish our friendship. Seriously, the few months we had were some of the best of my life. I'll always think of it as a great honour that I knew Taylor Hudson when he started playing in the NHL. You're going to have an amazing career and I know you'll make everyone proud. Me. Your parents. Your uncle. Make sure you make yourself proud as well.
If it's not too much to ask, please don't respond to this email. Please don't reach out at all. Sorry if that sounds juvenile, but I lived without you before and I'm going to have to learn how to do it again.
Take care, Taylor,
Camille
(PS. I'm about to send this and I can't believe it. Good god here goes nothing...)
That last line still makes me smile like I've just read the funniest joke on earth. You know, the smile where people around you demand what's making you laugh, what's so funny, and if they could see it, too. Yeah, that one.
This was what the seventh? eighth? time I've read this email. It had to be more than five. She sent it to me almost two months ago, a few days after I showed up at her house and told her about my uncle. And then kissed her. It was a heat of the moment thing. I was craving comfort, pleasure, a touch from someone who cared about me. And she was there.
I haven't responded to the email, but that's only because she told me not to. I was so tempted to respond, though, and just say... anything. That I appreciated what she said about Uncle Mark. That so much of her personality was in her words it was insane. That I missed her. That the months we've been friends were also my best.
