by Tory Jane
“When I opened the box, I realized something. I need to apologize.”
“For what?” he whispers.
“I'm responsible. When you left, I behaved like a child. I hid from the truth. My parents protected me because I lost my shit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After you left? I grabbed the essentials and ran to my mother. I left everything behind. I begged my parents to clean out the cabin and to put everything in storage. I didn't leave a forwarding address when I moved to the carriage house. I even changed my number. I wanted to escape.
“The first letter you left for me at the cabin? I never saw it. I thought you left without a word and no way to contact you.” I start to sob, my shoulders shaking.
“I was so angry with you. I hated you for so long, and I hated what you did to me. Jack, my behavior has been inexcusable. I'm amazed Julia and Wallace have tolerated me for so long. My choices? Well, I'm not proud of the things I've done. There were dark days, dark years.
“And it’s my own fucking fault. If I hadn’t run, if I’d found your letter….”
“Have you read it yet?”
“No, I ran straight here when I saw the envelope. I needed to tell you. To take responsibility for my actions.”
“You may still hate me after you read it. I was a mess. Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. However, it was also one of the most important steps towards becoming a man. I wanted to return to you a successful, self-sufficient man who didn't live in a cloud of smoke.
“I could tell you the whole story, or you can read the letters and understand what I was struggling with at that time. Anything I tell you now, I will tell with the benefit of hindsight. If we choose to move forward, we need to do so with clear eyes and complete honesty.”
“Wow. I said the exact same thing to my father tonight. Your letters will give me a contemporaneous account of how you were feeling then.”
“Don’t be angry with your parents. They did what they thought was best.”
“That’s the point of my apology. I have to take responsibility for the fact that I dumped my life, my grief, in their hands and begged them to handle it while I…um, well, I’m not ready to confess my sins.”
“My mischievous pixie. Do you think I believe you saved yourself for me and lived like a nun? I can guess how you managed. Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll, baby. The three greatest escapes. Did they work for you?”
I slap his hand. “No comment. You know they didn’t. They may numb the pain, but they don’t heal the wounds.
“I’m angry with myself. The pain came from not knowing the truth. I didn’t understand. I could have prevented that. I lost five years.”
His voice takes on an edge. “No. You didn’t lose anything. You gained life experience and wisdom. Something we both needed desperately. As magical as our bubble was, we had to burst free. You are who you are because of the entirety of your life experiences. Bella, you are beautiful, inside and out. You are accomplished, successful, and still a little sprite, dancing and twirling through life. Are you ready to see the truth about yourself? About me?”
“Are you?”
He places his hand on my neck and kisses me. We go from zero to sixty in seconds, touching, tugging at each other, our mouths dancing. He stops suddenly, and I whine in frustration. I can see him smirking. Then he stares at me intently and nods his head.
“Yes. I am.”
I can only stare back at him, my mouth hanging open in shock. I’m ready, too. There is so much to learn about the man before me.
“Run home, little pixie. I need to get back inside. Can I come visit you? Tomorrow night?”
“I’d like that. I want that.”
He kisses me again, slowly, more intimately. He steals my breath.
“Damn, Jack.”
He laughs. “I know. We’ve still got it, Bella.”
My Bella Belle
I don’t run home, I float on air. We are ready. It is time to acknowledge the past and put it to rest. What is the biblical quote? It is from Corinthians. Mama would know. There is a time to put away childish things and to think and understand as an adult.
I stand at the kitchen counter with my glass of wine and carefully lift out the packet of letters. Caressing the silk ribbon, I open the past. I want the letter on the bottom. I'm overwhelmed by how often Jack wrote. Yet, he warned me that I might still hate him after I read this good-bye letter.
As I slide my finger under the glued flap, I think back to the last time I saw him.
***
After five years together, I looked around and realized that life was passing us by. We were adults with successful businesses. I wanted children. I wanted to marry Jack. It was time to discuss our future.
I was too late. Jack made plans that did not include me. With two weeks’ warning, he casually announced that he was leaving to attend the School of Design at the Art Institute of Chicago. He loved me, but needed to pursue this dream, for himself and for us. Although he would be gone four years, we weren’t breaking up. We would stay in contact and visit each other. He would always love me.
His parents fully supported his decision. He'd even spoken with my father.
I was the last to know.
“How could you have hidden this from me? If this was your dream, why didn’t you share it with me? We share everything. Why am I the last to know? Why can’t I come with you?”
“You still live your life with a child-like wonder. I need more, Belle. I want a career, not a hobby. You need to find your own way.”
I was furious. I shook the clouds from my head and found shreds of my former identities. “You're blind if you don't see how strong I am. What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing? How dare you patronize me! I have been committed to your success, our success. I've supported you! I've allowed you to be the man you've become. Where would you be without me behind you? Propping you up, encouraging you? You selfish asshole!
“You’re going to leave me? You have to be fucking kidding me. Who do you think built the farming business? That was all me. I run my own successful business. I’ve helped you build and market yours. I’ve created a home for you. I’ve played the role you wanted me to play. You can’t change the rules without telling me. I can be whoever you need me to be.”
He looked at me with pity. He shook his head. “Bella Belle. You play in the dirt. You play in your store. Where is your vision? Don't you see that I've been the one managing the businesses, handling the money, building our success while you float through life? We're almost thirty. What are we doing with our lives?
“I don’t want you to be who you think I want you to be. I want you to be you. Do you even know who that is?”
He stunned me with his blunt cruelty. We connected on every level. How did I miss this? Now, he saw me as an unrealistic child. I broke the connection because I’d been lost in the dream. This is what he believed?
“I do know who I am. I am the woman who has supported you and brought us success while you played and dreamed. You’re wrong about this. How dare you make a unilateral decision without bothering to discuss it with me? You’ll regret tossing me aside.”
“Belle! You have to listen to me. I'm pursuing a dream. That doesn't mean that I'm tossing you aside. This is temporary. Let me go. Let me do this for me, for us.”
He took my face in his hands. “Soulmates.”
“Liar!” I ran from him.
The last time I saw him he was packing. We'd been fighting for days. Fighting, crying, making love, and then starting over. I couldn’t grasp why he had to go without me.
He stopped responding. He ignored me as I ranted and raved. Calmly, methodically, he went about his business. Did he think if he ignored me, I'd calm down? Oh, no. It didn't work that way. Giving me the silent treatment only served to enrage me further. How dare he ignore me?
I escalated the fight to get his attention. I punched him with my tiny fists. Screaming, I smashed my preciou
s pottery. I stole a picture frame out of his suitcase—a beautiful picture of the two of us laughing and kissing—and hid it from him.
When he finished, he turned to me with tears in his eyes. “Please try to understand. I need you to keep your faith in us. I'm not leaving you. This has nothing to do with you. I have to do this for me and for our future.”
There was no reasoning with me. I heard nothing. Jack might as well have been speaking a foreign language.
I clung to him. Begged him to take me with him. He held me for a long moment and for a second I thought I’d won. Then he kissed my forehead and walked out. He left me. He left me lost and empty.
Sobbing, unintelligible, I called my mother. “Mama,” I wailed.
“We’re on our way, baby.”
***
If I read the letter now, will I finally hear him? Will I understand why he needed to leave to pursue a dream he never shared with me?
Sliding the letter from its envelope, I notice that, of course, he wrote it on beautiful, marbleized paper.
My Bella Belle,
I know you don't understand. I know you think I'm leaving you. I'm sorry you cannot see the truth. That you cannot hear me. How can you doubt that everything I do is in fulfillment of my ultimate dream—that we reunite as partners, lovers, and life-mates?
Please understand that I need to pursue my dreams. I must accomplish something on my own. It is time for me to put away childish things and become the man you deserve.
In the last five years, there have been three things that bring me joy—you, designing and creating furniture, and surfing. Before you, it was merely surfing and building. I’d dropped out of society and isolated myself. Until you, I had no purpose. Nothing for which to look forward.
I have not changed. I do not intend to become some corporate suit. I want a simple life with you. I love taking discarded objects and turning them into beautiful things to share with this world. I love creating. I didn't plan it. I fell into it. Once I did, I fully embraced it.
I applied for school on a whim. I needed to see a bigger world. I didn't tell you because it never occurred to me they would accept me. I was embarrassed and scared. Now that I have this opportunity, I see this is part of my destiny. This gift will allow me to fulfill my dreams.
I should have shared this part of my life with you. I denied you a part of myself. I see why you believe I’ve hidden something from you. I did. Not intentionally, but I did. Annabelle, I apologize.
We have built a beautiful life together. You have been an integral part of that. Do you even realize what you've accomplished? We own three businesses. We are successful and respected. Yet we continue to live our lives from day to day. You have accepted me as I am. You have propped me up and supported me, despite my lack of vision. You expect nothing of me.
The thing is? I want you to expect more from me. You deserve more. I must do it alone. Not because I don’t want you, but because I want and need you too much. Does this make any sense?
Do you know that I want children? With you? I dream of being a father to our baby. That requires me to grow up and become a role model. Your father is such a man, and he has been instrumental in helping me find my way.
I love you. Please support my decision. Promise me that you will live your life and realize your potential. You play the role of a girlish woman with child-like wonder. Yet, you are a smart, strong, intelligent, and savvy businesswoman. You have a vision. Embrace it and become the woman I know you to be.
Live and love your life, your family, your friends, and most importantly, yourself. Be kind to yourself, Bella.
I have not left you; I pressed pause. Four years. We can do this. If you give me this, I promise you we will build a future together of which people only dream.
Always, Jack.
P.S. I am including my contact information. I will need you on this journey. I will crave your love and support. Please, please do not turn your back on me, on us.
“Put away childish things….” He did not leave me. It had nothing to do with me. I was selfish and blind. Jack loved me. He saw me for who I was and loved me in spite of and because of my flaws. He begged me to understand and not to turn my back on him. I failed him. I failed us.
Jack ~ I'm sorry. How could I have failed you? Us? Of course, I don't hate you. I regret that I was selfish and blind. I missed too many years because I was a child throwing a temper tantrum. My eyes are open. I'm ready to learn from the past and move forward.
You read the letter I left for you. You understand it wasn't about you? Bella, we both need to learn from past mistakes, but we cannot become mired in them. Claim your role, but know that you aren’t to blame. We all played a part. I could have found you. I was afraid. I am here now and I see you.
A Gentleman Caller
Julia would be proud of me. I’ve arranged a cheese plate with fruit and fancy bread and crackers on a beautiful vintage platter. I have two bottles of sparkling wine chilling, glasses laid out on the counter with festive cocktail napkins.
I almost send Julia a picture, but I'm not ready to tell anyone that I'm seeing Jack. I take the picture anyway. When I do confess, and I know I will, I want to show her that I remember how to be a proper hostess, with no bong in sight.
A fire crackles in the fireplace; Christmas lights and greenery decorate the mantle. I play Classical Christmas music. My tiny Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner. I wish I had the decorations Jack and I collected over the years.
We used to have massive Christmas trees, we decorated with hundreds of tiny white lights, and whimsical decorations, butterflies, feathered birds, sprigs of holly and little frames with pictures of friends, our family, and ourselves.
We hosted Christmas feasts for each of the twelve days of Christmas. We filled our cottage with love, laughter, and music. How many nights did we end our evenings making love under those Christmas trees? Our lives were full.
I've come to realize how much I miss the intimacy, the richness of the life I once lived. I've allowed my life to become small. I have two best friends and my parents. Shouldn't I at least have a dog or a cat? It's time to open up my door and my heart.
I wait for Jack to arrive. Did he give me a time? I change clothes several times and settle upon a long, flowy skirt and a sweater that drapes off my shoulder. Of course, I'm barefoot. I've added tattoos over the years. Will he uncover them? He will surely see the ankle bracelet tattoo. It has a single charm inked on the inside of my ankle. The letter “J.”
I pull on a pair of Uggs, wrap a blanket around myself, and go out to the garden. The courtyard garden has tiny fairy lights wrapped around the trellises all year long. I stand under the lights with a glass of wine and sneak a smoke. I’d prefer a bowl, but I settle for a cigarette from the pack I bought the other day.
One turns into two as I wait. My phone chirps. Jack is on his way. I hurry inside, brush my teeth, wash my hands, and spritz on my favorite spicy perfume. I try to look casual.
Just as my doorbell rings, I look down and notice I’m still wearing the ugly Uggs. I tug them off, toss them in the corner and open the door to the most handsome man I’ve ever known.
“Bella Belle.” He sweeps me up and twirls me. A tradition that began ten years ago under the stars in the North Carolina Mountains. I will never tire of this tradition. At eighty, will he still be able to lift me?
We stand, stare, and grin at each other. He’s wearing jeans and a beautiful aquamarine cashmere sweater the color of my eyes.
“Please, come in. Join me in my cozy cottage. I have sparkling wine, or bourbon, if you prefer. Cheese, fruit….”
He laughs at me. “Look at you, my little pixie. Still quite the hostess. You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble. It’s only me.”
“It was no trouble at all. It’s because of you, for you. I want you to feel at home here.”
He pulls me into his arms and finds my mouth. Another breath-stealing kiss. “Whenever, wherever I'm with you,
I feel at home. It's been too long since I've had a home,” he whispers. Goosebumps cover my body.
He pulls away and surveys the room. “It is quite the cozy cottage, Belle. It suits you. It makes me happy that you’ve made a home for yourself. Show me your garden. I know you must have a garden.”
I giggle. “I don’t have the space I once had, but I have a courtyard with a container garden, pots of herbs and a few vegetables. There isn’t much to see right now. You’ll have to see it in the spring when everything comes to life. We can go out there later. Let’s sit and enjoy the fire and talk.”
“I know you’ve opened the wine, but may I trouble you for a bourbon?”
“Of course. Make yourself comfortable.” I carry the cheese plate to the coffee table and then busy myself with making him a cocktail. He's wandering around the room, inspecting pictures and knick-knacks I've collected over the years. His brow is furrowed. I suspect he is looking for evidence of our past. He won't find anything. Except for the box.
I left the box by the sofa, hoping he will read one of his letters to me. I see him reach down and caress the carved lid. He gently lifts it and peaks inside. I know he sees the letters. I re-tied them with the silk ribbon.
As I bring him his drink, he settles into the corner of the sofa and reaches for the glass and me. He tucks me in beside him. I still fit perfectly in the embrace of the arm he drapes around me. He's not as buff or as rough as he was in his surfer days. He is long, lean muscle with smooth hands. I want to tell him that he has become a corporate suit, but I won't ruin this moment. Instead, I let out a sigh of comfort. He pulls me in tighter until I curl into a ball with my head resting on his shoulder.
We sit in silence, easing into each other, enjoying the heat of the fire and the soft, soothing music.
I feel the rumble in his chest as he starts talking. His voice calms me. “I suspect you’ve been wondering what I’m doing now?”
“It may have crossed my mind. You look amazing in a suit, but you could be a coffee boy who dresses for success.”
