45. All My Love – Stella
The silence in the car is deafening, but my mind never quiets. In my lap is a box, heavy and laden with postcards. Some battered and bruised, clearly having gone through the mail, all dated and signed. The most recent was just a month ago. As he drives, I flip through hundreds—hundreds–of postcards Riggins wrote but never sent, one for every stop of every tour Atlas Oaks went on over the last seven years.
Stell—
We’re in Texas today, and it’s hot as fuck. I guess it’s better than being in Jersey. Says it snowed there. I hope you didn’t have to shovel your walk and that you have someone to do it for you.
All my love,
Riggs
Stella—
Remember when you told me you thought Paris would be boring? You were so wrong. You’d love it here. Lots to do and see. And, of course, lots of bakeries. I hope you make it here one day.
All my love,
Riggs.
Little Star?—
I wrote for the first time today, and I wasn’t angry. I guess that feels like a win, even though it’ll never see the light of day. All my songs fucking suck without you.
All my love,
Riggins.
Stell—
It’s raining today.
I miss you.
I’m sorry.
All my love,
Riggs.
Stella—
We’re in London today and after the show, everyone went to a party because I told them I’d start drinking in the bus if they didn’t. I wasn’t, of course, but it worked. Once they left I laid outside in the grass outside the bus under the stars.
I miss you.
All my love,
Riggs
He wasn’t lying. There was a letter for every stop on every tour. Some of them are filled with silly anecdotes, things that happened, news about one of the guys, deals they made, or new songs being released.
A few mention his mom and how he was missing her. More mention his dad, filled with mixed emotions he’d been wrestling through over the years. Anger and grief and understanding. They all feel like a glimpse into his mind and into his recovery.
If I ever worried for a moment that a future would be hounded by the fear of Riggins drinking again, of falling into old patterns and behaviors, these letters tell me the entire story I needed to hear.
There are even a few dozen cards and letters he wrote when he wasn’t even on the road, a bunch from when he went to rehab, and some while he was trying to write albums.
Each one, I fall more and more in love with him again, in a different way than before.
Each one eases the ache, pain, and panic I was feeling over falling for him again. It doesn’t ease the nerves of what’s next or the grief and anger I feel for what my mother did, but those are all things that I can grapple with later.
Right now, it’s all about Riggins and I.
And I’m finally ready to figure out what that will look like, once and for all.