Another Letter From A Not-So Mystery Someone
Wednesday, October 27th, 2004
Another Letter From A Not-So Mystery Someone
A Billy Entry
Today was a long day, just like the past few days have been. As much as I love school, I love more than anything that moment when I leave the quiet building and head out to the parking lot, pausing to look for our car, but I always see Dom first. He's always standing outside of the car, no matter how cold it is, leaning up against the trunk, reading a magazine or listening to his Discman, and then he sees me, and smiles. No, grins. That's the best part of my day. It's as if all the good things I did during the day have added up and his smile is the reward I receive. On most days, I think it's more than I deserve.
Today was no different. Well, for the most part. Except for today I got out a little later because I had made an appointment with a parent for a conference this afternoon, so I had to wait until that was over before I could even begin to pack up for the day. Of course, Dom is worth the wait. But because I had to wait, I had to get a little bit more than his beautiful smile. And because the parking lot was virtually empty by that time, I felt little guilt about throwing myself at Dom and kissing him like my life depended on it. Which, nowadays, I'm really starting to think it does.
We chatted all the way home, like usual, talking about our days, sharing in the excitement to both be able to go home for the evening together. It seems like the evenings are even better this week than they've ever been. It probably has to do with the same reason the days are so long.
Dom left me alone when we got home. He made some excuse about having to fold some laundry, but I know for a fact that Dom doesn't do laundry. So I knew something was up. I went into the kitchen to see what we could rustle up for dinner, and found this on the counter, in a thick envelope addressed to me:
October 24, 2004
Dear Billy,
I don't know how to write to you anymore. I used to do it all the time, you know. I was supposed to keep doing it. I told you that, just like MS, I would write you letters every day of your life, keep journals about you every day of my life, and never stop telling you how much I love you.
I forgot to tell you yesterday. It's usually one of the first things I think about doing. And I did think about doing it, but the words never came out of my mouth. As soon as I walked into that kitchen where you were standing, I thought about other things instead; I thought about blaming you and arguing. After that, I didn't expect, like I do every day, for you to ask me for your "proper kiss." For the one time in my life with you, I didn't want to kiss you.
You don't know how much that scares me. I knew I loved you even while I was shouting horrible things at you and looking at you with hateful expressions on my face. I knew how deeply I felt about you, but I didn't let that influence anything I said or did.
I've been sitting alone at the post office now all morning trying to understand why I said what I did. And I know it'll sound half-hearted when you hear my explanation, but I need you to hear it. I said those things because I wanted to win. I wanted to win the argument more than anything, and I didn't care if I didn't feel like kissing you, or if I didn't say I loved you, or if you ended up getting hurt in the end.
We've never fought before. So, last night, when I got angry at you, I just fought for no reason. And that's because I didn't have a reason to do it. To be honest, I was only a little angry that you talked to my parents without telling me. I was really angry that you'd invited them over without asking me... But it wasn't because I didn't want my parents over. It was just because I've felt like we've made our own life here together, separate from everything and everyone else, and that made me happy. I left home because I wanted a life of my own, and I ended up finding someone I really cared about to share my new life with, and everything was fine. Last night, I realised that you didn't want it to be that way. I understand now... I know how it feels to want to know you inside and out; to be a part of every part of you. I know that, if your parents were around, I would want to meet them more than anything; to know if they'd like me, or if they'd even want me to be a part of their family through you. I would want all of those things, Billy.
So I said those things to you last night because I was scared of you knowing the part of me I've been trying to escape this past year. When I say that, I don't mean that I don't want to have anything to do with my parents... I'm just so stubborn, Bill. I don't like feeling like someone is watching over me. I want to come back to my parents after I've succeeded to show them all of the amazing things that I've done on my own. I'm scared, at this point in my life, that they won't think anything I've done is amazing. I'm trying to hide from them until I'm something more than a postal worker in one of the smallest towns in Oregon, because I left them with this awful attitude of something superior to that. But it doesn't mean anything, Billy. I don't care if I'm a postman in the smallest town in the world, with the smallest salary, and with nothing to show for all of the years I've spent failing in almost every part of life. I don't care what I'm doing anywhere at any time for anyone. I've succeeded because you loved me. If my parents could see that, they'd be more proud of me than I can even imagine understanding right now. And I want them to see that. More than anything, Billy, I want you to be so much a part of me that I can't even comprehend it. I want them to know you and love you and give us their blessing together. Because then I'll know for sure that you're a part of my family, and part of this life I'm living. There's no way that I could keep them away from us forever, and I don't want to even try. You're the love of my life; I want everyone to know that.
That's why I'm writing this letter to you. You had to hear this from my heart; I love you, and I can't even count the ways that I'm sorry. For everything I said last night. For the way I made you feel, for the things I said about your parents, for yelling at you and walking out. I'm sorry for everything.
When you looked at me last night and told me to leave, in my heart of hearts I wanted to fall on my knees and cry. But you were right... I was irrational, and childish, and stupid. I was so obsessed with winning that I didn't care about hurting you; I left without a second thought, because my mind was so full of anger and frustration, that I couldn't focus on caring about anything. And I didn't care about anything, Billy. When I left, it wouldn't have mattered to me if I had died that night. It wouldn't have mattered if I never saw you or my parents again.
I feel so sick, Billy. I feel like I'm going to fall over on the ground and break apart from the inside out. It scares me so much that I didn't care about you. It scares me to the point of crying, and I've been sitting here shaking since I woke up. Some black, terrible, unforgivable part of me deep inside managed to take over all of me last night, Billy. It told me to keep yelling at you, and then to keep running until I hit something hard and stopped moving. I wasn't thinking, Billy. I wasn't myself. I didn't like who I had become at all. I hated myself. But I couldn't overcome it, because I was so wrapped up in the moment.
I want you to know, Billy. I never want to be that person again. I don't ever want to fight with you. I never want to hear you yell like that at me, and I never want to have to see angry tears falling from your eyes ever again, unless, during one of life's awful tragedies, they aren't for me, so I can wash them away and hold you until you feel well again. I won't ever be the person who says things like that to you again. You don't know how much I mean that, Billy. I love you so much, no matter how hopeless and hurt you are, or how desperate and ruined I feel. I'm so ashamed of myself for not telling you last night. I'm so ashamed of what I said.
Billy, if your parents were here, I'd beg you forever to let me meet them. I would want to know them, because I know they must be incredible people to have raised an angel like you. I imagine they loved you very much, and they would have been very protective, if they'd heard about me. I imagine I'd have to always assure them that I was taking care of you and watching over you every second, just so they'd know you were safe. I'd want them to be proud of you if they met me. Just like my parents will be proud of me when they meet you. I'd want to know if you got your smile from your mum or your dad, or if both of your parents' eyes were green too, or if, when I watched your mother talk, I could almost see you sitting before me. Billy, I already love your parents, because I know they must've been so much like you. Billy, there's nothing I wouldn't do to take back the things I said about them last night.
I made it seem like I didn't care. I tried to make you look like someone you aren't. But who was I trying to prove it to? There was no one there last night who would have believed anything I was saying. I knew you better, and I didn't even believe what I was saying myself. I hope you didn't believe any of it either; I don't think you did. You're right, I was being so childish, Billy. I'm so sorry, Billy. I'm tearing myself apart. You should never have to forgive me for what I said to you.
You seem to understand me more than I do sometimes. You knew; my parent's don't love my brother any more than they love me. You knew that they care about me and would love nothing more than to hear from me. But I don't know what I could say to them now. They'd ask about you, you know. I'm sure my mum is already in love with you. What would I tell her? I couldn't say that you were all right; not with that last picture of you still in my mind; you, trembling and crying furiously, standing all by yourself on the other side of the living room. I couldn't lie to her, Bill, so I don't know if I would be able to talk to her at all. All this time I've wanted her to be proud of me, hey? Now look what I've done. She'd be so disappointed in me, just like I'm disappointed in myself. And now I'm doing the most childish thing anyway; running away.
I don't know how long I'll stay here at the office. You told me you didn't want me at home anymore. Does that mean we've broken up? I wish I knew. I wish I knew what you were thinking right now. Because when I put this letter into that mail bin in the back room, I don't know if I'll be the one to deliver it anymore. I don't know if I'll stay. So I wish I knew if you were crying like I am and wishing things were normal again. Do you still love me like my heart keeps trying to tell me you do?
It's silly, you know. I should just go see you. You always seem to understand when I do crazy things, so this probably wouldn't be any different. I'd show up on that front porch like I did that very first day we met; in my postal worker's uniform, on my bike, with scrapes and scratches all over me, and you'd smile, and take me in, and patch me up. Could it ever be that simple, Billy? I feel like my world has ended. I don't know if it can really start again.
I feel mixed up and confused, more than I ever have; lost and broken. If you were here, I know I wouldn't feel that way anymore. It's funny; I just said I've never wanted anyone to watch over me, and now there's nothing I'd rather have than you watching over me right now.
Do you remember the first time I said I love you? I kissed you in the snow under our tree and I felt the world light up inside of me. If everything that happened to me that night was true, I don't really believe that you wouldn't want me back home. When I think about that night, about first making love to you, I can actually smile again. I actually start to think about going back to you without any worries about what happened last night. I start to feel like such a part of you that it hurts. My heart fills up with the feeling of you, and I want to be home right now, in your arms, looking at your beautiful face and telling you everything I'm thinking at every second, no matter what it is. You'd smile and we'd stay up all night asking each other silly questions until you or I fell asleep.
Are you thinking about that, Billy? I can't keep the image of you out of my head. It makes me want to come and see you so badly. But I know I deserve to feel horrible. Sometimes when I think about you, though... I just can't. You know? I love you. Nothing I've ever done can change that. It seems to me that life shouldn't work like that. For what I said last night, I shouldn't be able to love you anymore; only enough to realise what a horrible person I was to you.
I feel like the worst boyfriend ever. I almost wish you'd say that to me now. But deep down I know you wouldn't. You're incredible; beautiful. Anyone else would have screamed terrible things back at me last night, but you didn't. Everything you said made sense. I guess that made me shout louder at you, become more irrational, to compensate for something. I just wanted to win... But, you know, Billy... You won anyway. Because I was a stupid, heartless, spoiled, smart-arsed boyfriend who couldn't see past himself to admit that he was wrong. You won; and I'm glad. If I had won, I'd be so confused. You were right. You're always right. Clever, beautiful, wonderful Billy. I miss you so much.
I want to see you. I can't stop crying. Just like every second before this, I can't get you out of my head, and even though my heart feels mostly broken, you're there, too. I love you, Billy. I realised today that I don't even know what that means. "I love you." Do you know what that means? I can't really explain it. I think it's a whole bunch of things at once. Like "I need you with me" and "I never want to see you crying" and "I love the way you smile at me" and "I dream about you all the time" and "I want to share a home with you" and "I love hearing you hum when you wash dishes" and "I hurt so badly when I can't see you, even if you're just in the next room." You know? That's how it feels. That's how it feels all over. And everything about you, when I think about you, falls somewhere into the words "I love you." It isn't even about touching or being touched. It's... it just is. Something about our hearts and souls coming together. Something about us becoming one person when we're together.
I'm so afraid to lose you, Billy. I'm afraid of being alone. I haven't been alone for almost a year now, and just this one night without you has made me realise how much I need you with me, every night. I've lived on this earth twenty-seven years and I've met so many people. There are so many people out there Billy. And out of all of them, I've found one whom I truly love with all my heart. It's so easy to take for granted how rare that is. Do you know how many people go through life not believing in love because they've never found it? I was so blessed to find it in my lifetime; I know that it's real. Being with someone who knows you, who makes you feel like you're at home, and who cherishes you, isn't only a dream. You made me feel like I was important, like I deserved to be loved the way you can love. You gave me a home and a place beside you every night. You touched me in places no one else knows, and you've seen all of me, and haven't ever laughed or shied away. I remember when we first spent the night in the same bed, on Christmas Eve, and we woke up on Christmas to spend the whole day without any clothes on. I felt safe with you; you held me beneath our blankets and you didn't mention anything about letting me see you. You didn't try to cover anything up. You trusted me, right? I trusted you too. Just after one night together. With other people, I've tried to cover myself before coming out of the covers in the morning; and they've made me leave, so I wouldn't see them dressing. That isn't as honest, I don't think. We really loved each other. We were so comfortable. Like when I ask you those silly questions I usually make up; you always answer them. No matter what they are. I know I've asked you about your first sexual experience, and the strangest place you've had sex, and whether you like tops or bottoms best... You don't make faces at me or turn away. You laugh and smile and tell me what you think exactly. I like that. I like how you take my hand without saying anything and lead me places where we can kiss and cuddle and ask silly questions like those. I like how you buy cookies and cream ice cream every time you buy groceries, just because you know it's my favourite. I like how you beckon me in bed every night, even when we're both tired, just because you know I want to make love to you at the end of the day, no matter what. I like how you touch my skin; especially my neck, because I told you that was my favourite spot. I still remember your favourite spot is the small of your back. You told me that once. And when you wear your glasses now, I get the feeling you do it because you want me to notice. I've been the luckiest man in the world, to wake up to a kiss every day, to eat breakfast with you smiling over your mug of coffee, to drop you off at work with a second or maybe third kiss, and then come back and pick you up for another, all to come home and hold each other on the couch, in bed, outside, and make love until we fall apart. You've always had me. You've always been my favourite parts of the day.
Billy, being with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don't think I'll ever find someone else in this huge world who could see me and smile without laughing a little. I don't think there's anyone out there who could hold my hand without asking first. I don't think there's anyone who could talk to me about making love when we're walking down the street, or who could see through me and love me, even when I don't get the best presents on birthdays, or any presents on anniversaries. You know me better than anyone. I don't want anyone to know me anymore. Just you. I just want you.
If I live the rest of my life alone, if you don't want me anymore, I'll be okay in a while, I think. If you're happy, I know I'll be okay. If you fall in love again and find someone who knows you inside and out and treasures every part of you even more than I did, I'll be happy along with you.
This is just me, apologising, Billy. This is just me saying I love you more than I could ever understand. This is just me saying, I didn't mean a thing I said last night, because there's no room for things like that in my heart anymore. There hasn't been since I met you. If I somehow meet you again somewhere in the future, and you smile at me like you did every day when I came home from work, or picked you up at school, or woke you up Sunday morning, then maybe we can start again, like we did a year ago. I'll go as slow as you want; I'll wait to kiss you; I won't touch you until it's exactly right. I'll wait for you all my life.
I'm sorry for hurting you, Billy. I don't think I've ever loved you more than at this very moment. I love you forever and ever. I'll never stop thinking about you as long as I live.
Make our home a beautiful place. I love how you do that. Smile all the time. You're lovely, just like I've always said you are. Plenty of other people are bound to think so too. And when you finally find that one person who you love and hold onto as much as possible, who you want to lie on that pillow beside you for the rest of your life, I want you to look at them and say, "I'm so glad this happened." Because you need things like that; you deserve to feel like the most precious thing in the world. And if you ever need to tell someone about what happened to you, I'll be waiting for you. I will never stop. I will always love you.
You have been the best part of my life.
Love, all the time, no matter where I am,
Dom
I cried again today. I didn't think I had any tears left after this weekend, but I guess I regenerate them quicker than I thought. Sitting at the kitchen table, hands covering my face, I cried again, realizing for the first time just how close I came to losing him. He wrote this the morning before he came home... he hadn't been intending to do so, not at first. He was going to leave without saying anything, hoping this letter would be enough. It wasn't.
I got up and ran upstairs, gripping the letter tightly, tears streaming down my face as I looked for Dom. I found him in the bedroom, writing in his journal... and I began to sob again. I yelled at him, though I don't remember what I said, yelled at him until I couldn't speak anymore because of the tearful look that crossed his face. I collapsed on the bed then, pulling him into my arms and apologizing, over and over, for not only the words I just uttered but the ones I uttered last weekend, and anything I had ever said that had hurt him. I can't bear the thought of hurting him again, ever. I was so shaken by the idea of losing him again. I held him tightly until my own tears subsided, and then I kissed him, long and lovingly. I love him so much, I can't even hold it in anymore, not even for a second.
I made love to him all evening, until we finally got hungry enough to go get that dinner, and then we came back to bed and made love some more. I read the letter again, in bed, with his arms around me and his head on my chest, but this time when I finished it no tears came, just a smile and many kisses. Because all though I came so close to losing him, the fact that I didn't just reminds me so much more how much he loves me. How much we love each other. My beautiful fiance. I don't need letters to remind me of that every day. Just him.
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