“Perfect summer’s night,
You’re the wind and breeze.
Just the bullets whispering gentle,
amongst the new green leaves.
There’s things I might have said,
Only wish I could.
Now I’m leaking life faster
than I’m leaking blood.”
~ “The One I Love” David Gray
If I never believed I broke Anya’s heart, seeing her swollen arm in the picture woke me up to the harsh possibility I did. My first impression of the picture was what Anya dealt with over the last year of our relationship—me jumping to conclusions then being brought back down to earth. This time though, she wasn’t around to do so. What the fuck did I do to her? This is the last thing I ever wanted for her. Yes, she broke my soul but to see her hunched over in pain was hard to stomach. She always felt punished by me when I broke down on her, and now the evidence presented itself. This just would’ve never happened on my watch—Never. This was a huge reason I fought so hard for her—she was putting herself in harm’s way staying with Jackson in her assumed role. She would’ve had my help and more; wanting her kids to have a hundred percent of the best mom, not what was left of her. She should’ve never been in an accident! I should’ve been the man she needed me to be! With me in her life, it would’ve never happened—it could never happen! While her husband was busy not allowing her happiness to happen, an accident did—only allowing her to suffer. That was his love on display, a love he claimed was all for the kids. In essence telling her Honey, we may not love each other, and although I’m responsible for that, we must remain unhappily together for the kids. When was that promise uttered in the wedding vows? It was for better or for worse, not for better or for crippled.
Those prominent bumps on her arm screamed there could never be a falser way of living life. My greatest fear was for Katie and Andrew to lose their mother--costing them the union of their mother and father was a small price to pay. If they loved their mother, the last thing they’d ever want to see is her tucked away in a dark room in the middle of the day with a towel on her head—writing in pain they could never fully comprehend because she is hiding it from them. They were bright kids, but Katie and Andrew knew nothing about life—its cruelty and how it operated. They were only fixated on the short-term because its all they knew. At their age most things are left to the imagination—what could be without knowing what truly is. My view had a long-term focus and after seeing this picture, what laid on the horizon didn’t look good. Anya survived this accident, likely due to unnecessary stress, but what about the next one? What about the next time she gets pulled in a hundred different directions while continuing to ignore herself? What if her next distraction was her last? And all I could do was sit and watch her throw herself into harm’s way for the sake of living a false life? Those two years’ worth of emotions and deep feelings of love had a right to say something—these were the grounds! All this love she encouraged and allowed me to feel was never meant to be pent up and relegated to only the written word. Our love wasn’t of the “The Bridges of Madison County” variety. That sacrifice wasn’t the same as Anya’s—two years is much greater than just four days! Maybe Clint Eastwood could sit there in cold silence, but not Landyn Lastman—having a lot to say because I was given a lot to feel. The one who owned my heart, who gave me her heart through a pendant after taking mine away from her, was hurt badly and it hurt me too—I let her down with my pitiful emotions.
Like her face when we were together, my eyes remained fixated on Anya in the picture. Imagining playing with her hair like I always did and wanting to kiss her swollen arm, the same way she kissed my leg. Unable to be there for her broke me into pieces all over again. Having no idea of what happened made me reach for two Vicodin just to deal with it. Who was taking Katie and Andrew to their activities? Her nanny? Lord knows it wasn’t Jackson—his political aspirations came first. The picture made me miss her beyond missing to imagine all of her physical pain without real help. Even after all that happened on the day we broke up and even the picture of her on Jackson’s lap felt like they never occurred. Her pain morphing into my heartache.
Delving further into the photo, my heart began taking notice of other things. She stood on the opposite side of Jackson and even appeared to not have her wedding ring on. It then begged the possibility—what if the swelling on her arms were tumors and she couldn’t wear her wedding ring because of the pain? The same way my mother couldn’t eat because of the sores in her mouth? Without throwing the heart pendant in the mix, it was beyond necessary to talk with her—to have a positive exchange. I didn’t want to go on living my life wondering if she gave me a false sense of purpose. If after this she may realize our love was a once in a lifetime opportunity—a chance I’d never let her throw away. She just might realize what she had in us, and she never lost it. This accident was exactly why I felt she betrayed herself, and never her kids—every reason I fought with her for her.
I didn’t want to keep sending her letters unless she wrote me one. And although the anguish and sadness her picture brought made the urge hard to ignore, the first of May was only two weeks away. Putting behind my turmoil, my heart beat the sound of her name once again—pounding as hard as ever before. When it came to her health, my negative emotions dissipated into nothingness—replaced by grace. My mind began considering Anya’s side of things. Maybe she feared losing us with having her kids around often? Did I know what it felt like to be deeply in love yet must be there for someone else? No, but Anya did. What if she was being both thoughtful and considerate by not being with me? What if Anya was the noble one? Was it fair of me to criticize Anya for her indecision leaving her trapped in a loveless marriage? It was impossible not to blame myself for her accident wishing I could be the hero she needed.
Each year, Anya ran her city’s marathon and her race times were always posted on the city’s website. However, this year her race time was never posted along with the others. Upon doing a simple internet search, I found she did run a race, just not the one she usually did. Instead, she ran the Palos Verdes half marathon. Palos Verdes was very close to the city where my parents lived, where I grew up, but it was even closer to somewhere else—Abalone Cove, our beach. When I noticed this, there could be no coincidence she had a reason for doing so—to show Debbie and Carolyn where she wanted them to put her ashes. That funny story about her urn rolling around in the backseat of their car was no joke after all—she wanted to be where we were regardless if she would be there alone. And she didn’t care what her kids felt about it or not—the only thing similar “The Bridges of Madison County” had to us. Her gesture was thoughtful and defiant, showing me she had no regrets, but again, that secrecy component made me feel unvouched for—believing we were something not to be proud of. Undoubtedly a strong statement, it still lacked boldness--unlike the fearless Anya I came to love. Again, Anya through the heart pendant and the Palos Verdes Half Marathon showed she could touch me without physically doing so. After seeing her arm in the family picture, I couldn’t help but feel I wronged her in a way she never wronged me.
A few days before the first day of May, excited for the chance to learn what happened to her arm and the meaning behind the heart pendant, a pink envelope appeared in my mailbox. The color of the envelope told me one thing—Anya had written me back. Although it bummed me out because it seemed she wouldn’t be able to meet me on the first, at least she contacted me--to tell me why she couldn’t and hopefully, her message behind sending the heart pendant. Seeing the envelope in my mailbox alone made me feel important to her, and worthy of her respect--even if she made a mistake sending the pendant to me or believing I previously sent it to her. Her letter gave me a chance at closure, if not hope. After learning about the Palos Verdes Half Marathon and seeing her on the other side of Jackson in a family photo, without her ring, it was impossible to not feel any optimism about the contents of her thoughtful letter. That our breakup was as hard, if not harder on her, as it has been on me. That if she couldn’t see me on the first, she would at least explain the meaning behind the heart pendant so I knew how to think, and hopefully, prove my biggest critic wrong in the process—no one liked feeling like a fool.
When I got inside my apartment, all my other mail got tossed to the side as I took the pink envelope and retreated to my recliner. Before I sat down, Jett called out to me so I opened his cage and let him fly on my shoulder—as if I had any say in the matter. Filled with anticipation and anxiousness, I carefully opened the envelope, hoping to add it to my Anya shrine I built over the last three years, even in her absence. Relieved to at least have the answers I hoped for, I unfolded the letter and began reading her words. All thirteen of them within in three sentences.
Don’t bother showing up. I won’t be there. Please do not contact me again.
I had to read her words again to trust they were real, and the more my heart absorbed them, the slower my heart began to beat—missing both a reason for her absence at the café and an explanation for the heart pendant. After all I ever shared, all I ever risked and actually lost, this is the response she felt I deserved. Anya could not be this cold and never this heartless. This wasn’t the woman who kissed the bone on my leg that haunted me since Denise left; not the same woman who sobbed uncontrollably the night her cousin got married in Canada because she wanted to wear my ring; Not the same woman who ran the Palos Verdes half marathon to show her friends where she wanted to be for eternity. And definitely, not the same woman who told me nearly every single day “I love you forever”. My letters must have fallen in the wrong hands. Anya knew better than to send me this—Jackson had to have written this or forced her to. She would never be this cruel to someone who loved her—she was given thirty pages of written proof, among other things. No woman, not even Denise, could be this cold. Why couldn’t she have written me back about the heart pendant without a return address, especially knowing why I wanted to meet up with her, giving me some sense of closure? Why send a heart pendant with my necklace to only tell me this? Was my mother right about her?
In disbelief and unwilling to accept the comet that crashed into my world, on May first at eleven that morning I returned to my seat on the patio outside The Good Morning Café. With so much on my mind, the Nook stayed at home knowing it would see no action on this day. That letter just couldn’t have come from Anya—we shared too much. For the next three hours, life passed me by as people did, flashing smiles--long forgotten from my face over the last eighteen months. For the last three years, all for love, I gave all I had to it—the irrational of all beliefs while holding onto an apparent impossible dream. When the clock struck two it all hit me—three years were now gone yielding nothing more than my greatest of disappointments and failures.
Trying to kick the dependence on Vicodin, the stratagem used to defer my most painful thoughts, it seemed Anya’s icy letter would not put a strain on our deepening relationship. It now appeared the heart pendant was indeed a mistake—just like my mother pointed out. After all we shared, she wanted nothing to do with me—able to go the rest of her life without seeing me ever again. If the truth in her letter wasn’t enough evidence she could care less if I dropped dead tomorrow, then what else was stopping me from doing just that? The day I lose my mother, the only person in between myself and the end, my fate would certainly be sealed.
It took Anya a month to let me know she wouldn’t be there. Telling me in no terms uncertain, for me not to waste time showing up, and for good measure to never contact her again. While hoping for some real sense of closure, she slammed the door right in my face before extending her middle finger at me, the man who she claimed to love forever. After allowing positive thoughts to enter my head, without the need of my stratagem, the heart pendant at best was just another keepsake to remember her by. Apparently in her mind though, everything to remember us by was a betrayal to her kids and family. This is exactly why I walked away from her the first time we met—to avoid from yelling inside to have it all fall upon deaf ears and a blind heart. The heart pendant had now become just another toy—a game she played to obtain passivity from me. Just like all the things she ever gave me—to control me while she carried on with her life as if we never existed. Everything she ever got me, even those items still gracing my bedroom were pretty much the same things she gave her children—to give a false warm fuzzy feeling to those when nothing was right and everything was wrong. Her words “I love you forever” were only true if love remained on her terms—a love I refused to accept. That may be her idea of love in her world full of material things, but not in my world. After her cold-hearted letter, there was no longer any doubt love existed on the terms of two people, and never just one. For two years, I believed she at least knew that much.
After receiving the letter, Anya began posting more family pictures on her Facebook account. Knowing I’d likely see them, there was no doubt an effort was being made to not only hurt me by sending a message, but to also bait me into doing something out of character—what appeared to be the real purpose behind sending me the heart pendant. Her family picture posting antics took me back to the day we broke up, her words forming in my mind like a parasite feasting on my brain—devouring all hope I had left for us.
“I know people!”
“I’m married!”
“You’re immoral.”
“Do you want people to find out? People you love?”
“Creepy guy.”
“Your information has been given to our lawyer.”
“They’re creeped out because of you.”
Her caustic words, roosting, breeding, then infecting my mind, disrupted all the heart hoped to feel. It now appeared, the day she felt our love betrayed her kids, or was convinced of such, was the very day she stopped believing in all we were. After penning her a thirty-page apology letter, she felt the letter she penned me was deserved. You asked for closure? Well, then here you go because writing a kind letter and declining to meet would have been too difficult. It’s not like I didn’t make mistakes—Anya was entitled to feel like she betrayed her kids because I lost my marbles at times, taking her away from the kids to deal with me. I got that. It's the fact she could never make me a promise and never knowing if she ever could, even after all we shared emotionally and physically, that left me feeling betrayed and misled. Even believing the betrayal of her kids was twisted into a competition with what Jackson gave them versus what Landyn could—me versus the kids. After receiving her nasty letter, it seemed to prove the heart pendant was only a tool of further manipulation. She knew how I felt about her and knew me well enough to know I read into everything—she gave me no option most times. I had no idea who the woman was who responded to me so harshly. That “please do not contact me again” came from the same woman who told me she loved me from Abalone Cove to the beyond.
Her letter feasted on my heart and mind, bringing me back to words said that were better left unsaid. The time she told me if she knew I’d pressure her that she never would’ve gotten involved with me—without taking into consideration the things she intentionally omitted that would’ve changed my mind—never telling me when we met, she was there for the sake of the kids—that mother’s sacrifice their own happiness in the end. Nope, she allowed and encouraged me to fall deeply in love with her instead, claiming she couldn’t help it. Now, when there were things I couldn’t help? I get cruel short letters void of respect, or even an acknowledgement of the role she played in my emotions. Then again, she would have to know what love was to understand that much. After Jackson cheated on her, Anya was always in a victim’s role—the only role she knew even when she stopped being one. While she hoped, wished and dreamt, she also found reasons to stay. Reasons that led her to be just fine without ever hearing from me again.
Over the next two months, with thawing irritation, my heart rallied keeping the dream of closure alive—actually believing the cold letter was deserved. With a renewed positive outlook, I even considered maybe she thought it was a way to get the heart pendant back. But if the silver heart was just another keepsake or memento, it was not worthy of holding onto—only representing how love eluded me once again. Her ghost surrounded me everyday through an alarm clock, music and scents—a heart pendant only adding to the living lie. If Anya wanted to live her life that way, more power to her but reality drove me more than fantasy. Her love left me gasping for air in a treeless world. While love surrounded her every day, the ghost of my soulmate left me with nothing but a fleeting unfulfilled life.
Seeking closure through a chance encounter, I had lunch one day at a restaurant a block away from the former Paseos—the bar we first met. Knowing where she lived, it would be easy to see if I could follow her but there were still things my heart wouldn’t be able to see. Most people in my heart and mind wrenching situation would’ve resorted to stalking, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to do it. Giving her a happenstance chance to explain herself was the best way to achieve the closure needed, and if a nudging from the universe was required then my pride couldn’t get in the way. Searching the internet to see what Anya was up to from time to time was hard enough but physically hanging outside her residence would be too much—I wasn’t the greatest man on the planet but I was better than that. While sitting at a table alone in the restaurant with my thoughts, an excruciatingly normal thing in my life, a group of five adults and a number of kids entered and walked past my table. Without paying much attention and dipping one of my French fries into ketchup, a familiar voice penetrated the air.
“Hey.”
“Oh!” I replied, looking up before being shocked to see who stood before me. “Hey, Debbie.”
“How are you.” Debbie said, not in the form of a question.
“I’m pretty good.” I lied, not knowing how she perceived me. “How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m here with my son, Josh.” she told me, turning and pointing to him. “He’s right over there with his friends. They graduated from middle school today.”
“Oh wow, congratulations.” I said, with genuine sincerity and surprised she felt comfortable around me. “You have a high schooler on your hands now too?”
“I do!” She smiled proudly. “Here we go!”
While laughing heartily at her response, a fear of not knowing what to say filled me. Instead of running into Anya, I ran into her close friend, a curveball from the universe. Not knowing what you wanted to say when having so much to say may have been an experience of hell on earth. I wanted to ask Debbie about Anya’s accident. I even felt compelled to explain my side of the story to her, but her non apprehensive approach felt like acceptance—as if I didn’t have to because someone already did—she must have known my struggle on some level.
“What are you doing out this way?” She inquired.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Just stopping off for lunch before I visit my mom.” I lied again, my real reason leaving me suddenly craving a Vicodin.
“Oh, I see.” She replied, seemingly disappointed in my answer. “Well, it’s nice to see you, Landyn.”
“It’s really nice to see you, Debbie.” I told her, meaning every word. “I think of you and Carolyn often.”
“You know…” she spoke, pausing as she looked upward then down at me. “Over the last few months…I’ve sort of reinvented myself.”
“Really?” I replied, her answer leaving me in wonder. “How so?”
“Well, I just cook more at home now and don’t go out as much anymore.” She elaborated. “I’ve decided to do something else career wise.”
“I’m happy for you, Debbie.”
The changes she made in her life were all good things, but her reinvention seemed to be telling me something else--most likely her way of wanting me to know my relationship with Anya on some level changed her life. Anya used to tell me that Carolyn and Debbie understood my struggles and that Anya couldn’t blame me for the way I felt. Although Anya disagreed at times and my presentation wasn’t always the best because my emotions got in the way, she could see the place I was coming from; that a real love existed for her if she was brave enough to break the spell of martyrdom. Both Anya and Debbie were cheated on by their husbands, but not one time did I ever see Debbie with another man. She flirted but in a healthy way—one that suggested her heart was still at home. But unlike Anya, Debbie was still in love with her husband and never allowed another person into her life before she reinvented herself, or was willing to do so. Or maybe my falling out with Anya inspired Debbie to be a better person because she knew how things could fall to the wayside; that being a witness to our relationship likely scared her straight. Most importantly, she learned not all men didn’t believe love was unrealistic.
The opportunity to snatch details about Anya’s accident were right there but hearing it from Debbie instead of Anya stopped me in my tracks. And honestly, the last thing I wanted to know was that Anya was happy without me—I didn’t know if she knew about asking for the necklace back or about the heart pendant. If we had a conversation about Anya, our reunion could go downhill quickly. I didn’t want to say something regretful, nor wanted to make her uncomfortable around her son. If the horse wasn’t there, then hearing it from Debbie’s mouth would not suffice. After we finished our short but pleasant conversation, the sandwich before me couldn’t coax my appetite into reappearing. To know Debbie didn’t find me to be the “creepy guy” Anya claimed I was the day we broke up, left me feeling halfway decent for the first time in over a year. I didn’t think Debbie had a reason to reinvent herself, as much as Anya did, but maybe that was her way of telling me Anya reinvented herself as well? For Anya to sink back into her home life after all we shared left me asking what my life was for. Not because I wouldn’t want that for her, if she truly wanted that, but the only reason she would do so was because I forced her hand. It left me to wonder how I could spend all this time wondering if Anya was being honest with me, when she was never honest with herself. With these uncomfortable thoughts filling my head, I rose from my chair before leaving a twenty-dollar bill on the table then waving good-bye to Debbie.
On a much different level, I missed Debbie and Carolyn too. Although they essentially enabled Anya to hurt me, they trusted she believed in our love as much as I did. Or, maybe she didn’t talk to Anya anymore and that’s why she “reinvented” herself? Debbie seemed to defend me when Anya spoke with her about our relationship—remembering the time Anya told me “they would die” if Debbie and Carolyn knew of my struggles. Anya always told me their disagreements were never over me, but rather “girlfriend being a bad girlfriend” issues. Still, a part of me believed Debbie knew the truth she kept from me. Anya’s “only if he asks will I tell him the truth” approach was maddening—both warming and destroying me inside. While Anya feared losing me over those things, I feared being played for the fool. After one of my meltdowns, Debbie told Anya we had something special—love and respect. When Anya told me she told her that, it seemed to reveal Anya communicated to her, or maybe Debbie witnessed it, Jackson's disrespect. It also might have revealed that she knew about Jackson’s indiscretions all along. It wouldn’t have been beyond Anya to hide that from me if she feared her integrity would come into question. But she never owed Jackson anything after chipping away her love with his gross disrespect and disloyalty. I saw Debbie as a friend, not a close friend like Anya was to her, but only has an extension of the friendship she had with Anya. Debbie never responded to my email the day Anya called the cops on me, but after approaching me at the restaurant with zero reservations, she didn’t want to conspire against me too—she likely had to forward my communication to the authorities because her husband and Jackson were friends. It was good to know, Debbie likely saw the ridiculousness of a chip being installed in Anya’s phone and her forwarding of my texts to “their lawyer” as much as I did. There was no question Jackson convinced Anya she wasn’t a good mother with me in her life and was destroying the future of her children if she didn’t obey his wishes. Although my heart knew Anya would never have acted out in such a manner, my mind still asked, “are you sure”?
Jackson was a father having two kids who adored him—I never wanted that to change. Although he fell short at times, like most parents running their own business, the love for his kids was not up for debate. He undoubtedly sacrificed his happiness as well for them both, but he viewed me as the villain—not the man who pulled the trigger on his wife’s heart for years. If I believed my wife loved another man, knowing it happened because of my gross disrespect over many years, I’d be betraying my kids by threatening to fight for their custody if she chose happiness. Jackson saw my face in the mirror instead, unable to face the reality he caused the instability in his home. My heart, eyes and mind were all in the right place and everything he tried to pin on me, were things I never foresaw happening—all I needed to do was sweep Anya off her feet and she would leave. I trusted her promise and further trusting she would never allow me into a situation that wasn’t broken beyond repair. That the only reason she was there was because no one would catch her if she fell. With open arms little did I know she was never ambivalent to her marriage and needed assurances from her kids in order to leave Jackson, even requiring him to be unfaithful one more time.
Feeling left for dead, my life became uncomfortable and unrecognizable. All this love for her only brought me closer to the end of days. Falling behind on my mounting credit card debt prompting daily calls from collectors became my new normal. While continuing to work for two restaurant clients who promised to pay me when they had certain things lined up only brought me penalties and interest. When they did finally pay me something, I had to play catch up on my past due monthly bills—having to blow off my tax obligations with the state and IRS. Moving back in with my parents at forty years old was nothing my pride would allow to happen. The only way my father and I got along was because we lived apart. With my investments losing value daily, a depleted bank account, my mother’s illness, a mounting debt and broken mind, the daily stress forced me to take more pills to function. It got to a point, I had to find Jett a new home—he needed an owner who wasn’t falling apart at the seams.
One of my clients blamed a bartender, who he believed was stealing from him, for his inability to pay me on time. After doing a bar inventory to determine that possibility, it seemed the bartender’s tip jar was more lucrative than the alcohol sales he rang up at the register each evening. After the owner approached the bartender about it, he denied it but each week our alcohol costs increased with little profit to show. I then decided to come in after the bar closed to do a hand count of the money before giving everyone their tips for the night. When I was in the office counting, the bartender entered asking why I was doing hand counts. After looking up at him and simply replying “I think you know why” he stormed out of the office, but I quickly demanded him to come back. After explaining to him how the generous pours to generate higher tips was causing the restaurant to fail, he began to push back—claiming the owner still owed him money for the bar he constructed at the restaurant. It was at this point I knew the restaurant would soon fail and I’d never be paid for my efforts. I quit the next day losing the seven thousand dollars he still owed me in the process.
Everyday brought with it a different challenge, deepening the hole under my feet and in my heart—never fathoming that love could cause so much wreckage. Constant headaches and stomach issues never experienced before made it difficult to get through the days. Worst of all, rationalizing Anya’s letter drove me further into the abyss. What if she held her accident against me? Feeling I forced her hand allowing this to happen to her? My mother didn’t seem to buy those theories of mine, but my drug induced mind did—helping me stay in tune to the good feelings she gave me and not the bad ones. As more days passed in silence, the more my need grew to seek the truth behind the heart pendant one last time. Although closure seemed to be unobtainable, the truth never was. After all I trusted in and endured, she owed me an explanation. Wondering about its true meaning for the rest of my life was unbearable. What was she trying to tell me? Did it come from Lance and she included it by mistake? If it was mistakenly thrown in there, I needed to know for certain. All I’ve done is live on hope for the last three years—the hope she’d be brave enough to do the right thing—the hope she didn’t lie to me when we met—the hope she wouldn’t lie to me now. She couldn’t send people her heart for no reason—love was not a game and this was not a movie. All I ever felt for Anya had to be based in reality.
For her to feel she didn’t owe me an explanation for the heart pendant disturbed me—she knew full well how much I read into everything. If she refused to tell me in person, she then could’ve told me in the letter. Instead, the woman who claimed she would love me forever, only offered her coldest rebuke yet. Anya never had to wonder about me. I shared with her every emotion, good and bad, I ever had. And why? Because I owed it to her. I owed her the chance to steer me in a different direction if my thought process was off the deep end. She never really gave me that opportunity. Her actions and inactions inspired my emotions, yet she took zero responsibility for them. We didn’t date for a couple of days, a couple of weeks, or even a couple of months but for a couple of years. The last year of our relationship only got more intense due to depth of our feelings, even telling me in San Francisco she loved me "more than ever”--her greatest statement yet after all our struggles. If there was any vindictiveness behind the heart pendant, I had to know where to direct my feelings.
Still fighting the urge to respond to her nasty letter, an internet search led me to an interesting discovery—Jackson and Anya filed a lawsuit against the person she was involved in the accident with. This inadvertent discovery confirmed she was indeed in an auto accident, but it also revealed an unforeseen twist--the person involved was the bartender at the restaurant I did consulting work for. Of all people, it was the same bartender at the restaurant? Did the universe have a hand in this? One of my greatest regrets on the day we broke up was not giving Anya a chance to talk things out—claiming me she had so many things to tell me. The Vicodin played a terrible role in my mood that day, dragging me further away from her. Funny how I used the pill to keep her close to the heart when she felt so far away, but in the end, it took me away from her. I could only hope the heart pendant was her way of sharing those things with me—words that might have made all the difference in the world. Of course, I didn’t know if it would, but if she owed me an explanation, I owed her that much—to hear her out. For all I knew, the accident occurred just outside the restaurant. After seeing the details on the internet, my belief in coincidences further faded away—the universe seemingly instructing me to write one last letter.
Dearest Anya,
I couldn’t help but notice you might have hurt your forearm in your FB profile picture. I hope you’re okay and it was nothing serious. If anything bad happened to you, it would hurt me a lot more than anything ever could. As cold as your last letter intended to be, I felt more hurt in it than coldness. As far as my thoughts on “what love is”, I feel I may have been unfair about most of it when I wrote you eight months ago in December. I just had a rough year processing my grief. Missing you is where it all stems from. So, I just want to clear up some of the statements I made in that letter.
“Love would’ve never allowed him to stop us from being together or seeing each other for one day. It simply would’ve told him to live with it or leave.”
This was a horrible statement for me to make simply because he doesn’t want to pay for child support and lose them as dependents. Not saying that he doesn’t love his kids, but I think keeping money in his pocket and keeping it from you (hurting you) is how he wasn’t going to allow it. When you told me he wouldn’t allow it, you meant to tell me he was going to get back at you in some way. This was an ignorant statement for me to make that was self-centered around my pain.
“Everything isn’t anything when you’re in love with someone.”
If everything includes losing the respect of your children in the process, then it is something and it’s huge. It had nothing to do with not being in love with me. Again, it was an ignorant and self-centered statement to make.
“I believe love knows no shame, only pride.”
In a perfect situation, yes, I believe in this. If you’d lose the respect of your children? No. That’s something I would never want you to lose and it has nothing to do with pride. Again, I was wrong.
“Love when found is never left to destiny or chance because love is simply a need.”
You didn’t need my love the way I was acting therefore I forced you to leave our love to destiny and chance, clearly something you didn’t want to do, but I left you with no choice. Not a fair statement to make and needless to say, ignorant and self-centered.
“In this day and age of the internet, love would’ve found a way to slip up and keep in touch, someway, somehow.”
I forced this upon you with my actions. He’s playing the “I’ll tell the kids” card and again, it’s my fault. I don’t want you to ever lose the respect of your children, and I have no one to blame but myself for this.
If I missed anything, I’m sorry. I felt these statements were the most outrageous ones and were the most glaringly wrong statements I made in my letter to you. I don’t resent you for telling me the things you did in the heat of the moment, like “maybe this will help my marriage”. I was only upset because I walked away when we first met because you were married, and I felt like you forgot about that. But again, I’m trying to own up here to what led you to feel that way. I believe you said that because you knew that’s not what we both wanted and it was done to stop me in my tracks from reaching out to your husband. In a perfect situation, I believe all the statements I provided above are applicable, but not in our situation, and it’s only fair to acknowledge that. I understand there are other forms of love and you gave me the only form you could due to the circumstances. That’s what made your love a unique gift. Regardless of if I felt those terms should have changed in some way, I was absolutely wrong to force my hand in order to change them because the bottom line is I forced a decision upon you that was not mine to make. It’s something I’m not supposed to do under ANY circumstances. I was wrong to do so. I hope you can look at those things I said about love as being more about having an extremely tough time accepting you’re no longer a part of my life. I guess it was easier to think you were never in love with me, but it’s not that easy. I’ve come to learn that my actions weren’t about your husband learning you were in love with me. I know that’s not what made you angry. I believe what made you angry was your children possibly finding out about your infidelity and then losing respect for you. That’s just something I would never want to happen, and if I thought him knowing you were “in love” with me would’ve opened that door, I would’ve never acted the way that I did. I just didn’t understand what was truly at stake. In regards to this being about me, I can now see how you felt that way.
I don’t know if she told you, but I ran into Debbie at CPK on 2nd Street. I was really surprised she came up to me to say hi, but I’m really happy she did. I just thought everyone hated me now. It was really nice to see her. We talked for a bit. I was afraid to ask about you just because I didn’t think it was right to do so, considering she was having lunch with her son and family, plus it’s still hard on me emotionally, but of course you were all I thought of. She asked me how I was. I told her I was good and stopped off for lunch on my way to visit my mom. Just please know that I wanted to ask her how you were. I really care about you, but I was afraid of what I might hear, and to be honest, I’m not good at all, I’m just ok. I will always care about you. Please don’t forget that.
Now to explain what I was trying to accomplish in my December letter. What I was trying to do was let you go, the way you asked of me. Not because I want to or because my feelings changed, but because it felt like you have truly let go of me. As wrong as it was to ask for the necklace back, something I gave to you forever, unfortunately you holding onto it was giving me hope that maybe some of the things I have written you will hit home, and that there was a chance you may change your mind about us. That maybe you saw in some way the things I did. After a while of thinking this way, I started to feel I was fooling myself. I imagined the necklace hidden somewhere in a drawer or box and being stumbled upon from time to time. That there’s more shame and guilt associated with it than love or pride. I then started to realize our love wasn’t looked upon as breaking up a marriage to an unfaithful and disrespectful husband, but truly viewed upon as breaking up a family and hurting kids instead. I had no idea that was what I agreed to when I decided to give us a chance. I want you to know I KNOW you went through a lot around your kids for me. I know it was hell on earth for you, because you’re such a good mother, and I’d even go as far to say I’ve had it easier at those times and it’s always been tough on me, even now without you in my life. I just think about all the times we would argue, and it really breaks my heart to know I put you through that around, of all people, your kids. I understand why you feel you betrayed them, but I also feel I betrayed them by not being a stronger person for you, but as much as I believed in love, I didn’t know its raw power until I met you and truly fell into it. I think that’s why I took that to heart. I couldn’t see it from where I was at the time, but I do now.
The truth of the matter is simply this. I was upset with you because you looked upon our love as breaking up a family instead of a marriage described to me as “no marriage” due to a lack of the most two essential components of any marriage, trust and love. You are upset with me because I questioned your love after you’ve risked everything. I think it’s safe to say we both had the right to be upset with each other, and we both would’ve walked away from each other in the beginning if we thought these things would’ve ever come into question. The bottom line is we both made mistakes. I was hoping maybe we could air our feelings out ONLY in a healthy way so that’s why I suggested a meeting, but I don’t blame you at all for not meeting up with me. I understand. I guess you were afraid I was going to be angry if you didn’t meet me, but not at all. Sure, I was disappointed, but I can’t blame you. I’m sure it would have been hard on both of us, especially you because you’d have to come back home to your kids.
When you returned the necklace to me, the last thing I was expecting from you was a heart pendant. I wasn’t prepared for that. In our nearly 2 years together, other than the bookmark, you’ve never given me something with so much meaning. It was a bold statement after the letter I sent, and it means a lot considering all you’ve been through with me. It reminded me of the thing I loved most about you: how you could say “I love you” without saying it. I carry it around with me quite a bit. It was in my laptop bag which was in my car when I ran into Debbie. If I had it with me in the restaurant, I could have shown her how I was really doing.
One time after one of my moments a few days after a beautiful weekend together, you said this to me.
“You make me feel like this weekend shouldn’t have happened.”
That statement was so powerful and showed how strongly you believed in us. That’s not a “I will hurt my kids” statement. That’s an “I love you, Landyn” statement and it’s indisputable. We should’ve happened no matter what the circumstances were. Over the last year and a half, I’ve realized this was never a fight for your heart. Your heart pendant tells me I have that. What I was fighting for all along was for you to have true love in your life one day. We aren’t together because of a lack of love but because of a lack of understanding. You told me what we had was special, and you didn’t want to lose that. I don’t want you or myself to lose that either. It’s why I’ve written you letters after you’ve told me not to contact you, and if caring about your true happiness makes me guilty of stalking and/or harassment then consider me guilty as charged. I’m not afraid to walk the plank for us. I’ve got nothing left without you anyway. I just cannot believe for a second, we were ever about breaking up a family or hurting your kids, and I fight because I can’t allow you to believe that either. If you don’t know this about me already, I love you. I’m a hopeless romantic. A real one. I feel warmth where there is coldness and I see light where there is darkness. I believe in love therefore I believe in miracles. I believe wishes, hopes and dreams are the three things in life no one should ever give up on. I believe in second chances and new beginnings. I believe what we had was not about breaking up a family, but rather about two great people through the grace of the Universe, finally finding each other. I believe in the power of forgiveness and I believe you still love me more than I know.
So, this is what I’ll do. If you can at least believe in “Never Say Never”. If you can believe the good times we shared were the times that truly defined us, and you can believe in the things I just wrote in the above paragraph, especially about us not being about breaking up a family, you don’t have to write me back. Just mail me one of your pink envelopes within a week’s time of your receipt of this letter so I can at least know that much. You’ve sent me your heart and by doing so, you are telling me I have it. It’s a powerful statement and all I’m asking for is for you to show me it means as much to you as it means to me. That’s a love I believe in. That’s a love I can trust in. I want to see you truly happy one day. I don’t want you to suffer forever. I want to show you in this life, with love, anything is possible. It just takes time and understanding.
I love you forever.
Landyn
And then I waited for a two-ounce empty pink envelope that carried the weight of the universe.