43. One Month Later
FORTY-THREE
ONE MONTH LATER
My Matteo,
I know I shouldn’t be doing this. As I sit here and write, I’m painfully aware of what this will mean for us. I know that this is two steps backward, but I need to know how you are.
Are you lonely? Are you missing me like I’m missing you?
You did this to us. I would have done anything to be with you, but you decided you didn’t want that. This isn’t me trying to guilt trip you. I just need you to know the truth.
The truth is that I still want you. I still think about you. I still dream of you.
Even though I shouldn’t, and even though you gave me your answer, I still love you.
Baby… I don’t even know if I can call you that anymore. Being without you is a torture I never thought I’d experience. When I’m with my wife, trying to fix the marriage we ruined, all I can think about is what if you would have chosen me…
Would we be happy? Would we have stayed together? Would it all have been worth it?
I’d like to think the answer to all those questions is yes, but life’s not like that. There’s no room for ‘what if’ just ‘what is’.
And what it is now is a life without you.
Clara’s sleeping upstairs. I… I told her we could try and make it work. She wants to make it work. I need to make this work.
But then why do I deeply wish that you’d show up and shatter the last tendril of hope she has? Does that make me a bad person, baby? Does it make me cruel that all I want is to be in your arms just one more time?
I don’t expect you to respond. I wouldn’t if I were you. It'd leave me feeling like the desert going months without water. Lifeless, hopeless, desolate.
But what if you did respond? What if we could… Just one more time.
No. I know we can’t do that. Like I said, life isn’t about what we could do. We need to face harsh realities, and my harsh reality is a life without you.
I love you, baby. Are you drinking? Please, don’t drink. Be as strong as the man I know you are. Be the one that lights the way for others. Take that beautiful gift you’ve been given and help people.
Fuck… I love you. I don’t think I’ll be able to say it enough.
Don’t respond. Rip this up. Forget about this.
I shouldn’t send this but…
With love and always yours,
Your precioso.
Mi precioso,
How could I not respond?
I saw the address you sent this from, and I’m assuming that’s not where you live. What’s it like there? I picture you in a house with a picket fence, maybe a dog, with a happy wife on your arm.
Are you… Are you trying for a baby?
No— Fuck— please don’t answer that.
I hope life has been kind to you. One hundred and fifty-two days. I can be more specific. Do you want to know if I’ve counted the hours? That I know down to the second the last time I felt my lips against yours? Every tick of the clock is a beat that echoes in my cracked heart.
When will it finally break?
I cling to the memories of us together. The way you beautifully cried out my name. The ghost of your touch trailing down my body. I remember those blissful seconds when I got to taste every freckle on your nose.
I dream about what your pale skin would have looked like covered in my marks. Evidence of my lips on you… I think that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
But you’re right. We don’t get what we want. And what I want…
I won’t lie to you. I don’t think I could. I think it’ll break me to admit the truth I’ve kept buried in my chest in the months since you’ve gone, but you need to know.
I love you too.
I never stopped loving you. What separated us was circumstance, precioso. We were two souls looking for something, and we found that in each other. That was it, wasn’t it? Just two passing ships… Is that the phrase?
That doesn’t mean I don’t call out to you in the darkest parts of the night and shatter when I don’t find you in my arms.
I love you. I love you. I love you. Read these words one more time and burn this letter. Just know that a part of me will always belong to you.
That’s a lie.
Every bit of me is yours, Theo.
Mi precioso.
With love always,
Your Matteo
My Matteo,
You didn’t answer my question. Are you drinking? Keep holding on. Don’t give in.
I read your letter. I read it a million times before wet smudges covered each word. I read it and memorized it, and I have a single question.
Why didn’t you choose me?
You say your heart beats for me.
You think I should move on with my life? You picture me happy? Happiness won’t come with this lingering doubt in my mind that I should have fought harder for us.
You owe me an answer. Please. I need to know. Because I need to see you… I can’t… Matteo, please…
I’ve never been the best with words. I get flustered. Awkward and jumbled. With you, it was always different. I could write an entire book about my love for you. Not only that, but I never needed to utter a single word for you to understand, to know, to accept.
You’ve always just known.
And I think that makes me love you even more.
I’m adding an address to the back of this letter. If you ever loved me at all, you’ll meet me. Don’t leave me alone without at least an explanation like you did before.
Because I’ll wait, baby. I think I’ll always wait for you.
With love and always yours,
Your precioso
Theo,
I…
I’ll be there.
With love and always,
Your Matteo