The Letter

As I stare at the blank page in front of me I begin to realize the I have no idea what to write. How do you tell someone that you're sorry for all the pain and suffering you had caused them years ago? I had loved him, still do in fact. I can't believe that I'm thinking of him now after five years. I've tried actually to write this letter dozens of times. A letter that seems the right thing to do but cowardly as well. An easy way out.

How do you tell someone that you still love them but that you think in the end that love might not be enough? I know now that sorry is not good enough. I will never be good enough. He was good to me, to my family. My family loved him and his loved me. And I ran away, only to find out later that it was the worst mistake of my life. Maybe I should just write what I think and how I'm feeling now? I just hope that he will at least read these words that I wrote him. I have to try and find out if there is any way to salvage what I left behind.

I walked down the street and over a few blocks to the mailbox on the corner. I didn't want to put it in my own box at my apartment in case I changed my mind. This way I can't.

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~Week Later~
Don reached into his mailbox and grabbed the mail he had refused to get for a couple of days. Pulling it out he started walking slowly toward the elevator to get to his apartment on the third floor. All the while his was flipping though the various envelopes.

~bill, bill, junk mail, another bill~

Suddenly standing alone in the elevator he stopped flipping, almost dropping the rest of the mail in the process. He almost stopped breathing, his heart racing as he focused on one letter. One letter from someone he thought he had forgotten years ago. Now he knew. He stared in disbelief wondering if he was imagining it. He shook his head at his thoughts. He put the letter on top of the stack of mail he miraculously didn't drop. The elevator doors opened revealing his floor. He walked to his apartment digging in his pocket for the keys. He unlocked his apartment an apartment he used to share with the sender of the letter.

Once inside he took off his coat, his suit jacket, hid his gun and took off his badge. Now it was time for a beer. He put the mail on the kitchen table and opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Heineken. Standing against the counter he stared at the letter still resting on the pile of mail on the table. Taking a swig from the bottle he debated where to open the letter and read it opening old wounds in the process or just take the letter and chuck it in the trash with the junk mail and rotten food. With a heavy sigh and a surprisingly empty bottle of beer Don picked up the letter hoping that reading the letter was the right choice.

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I hope that I made the right choice mailing that letter. I know that it will probably turn out ok, but I'm stressing here. My mother told me not to stress that everything would work out and if I didn't hear anything back I had my answer. I think that is why I made sure I mailed it two blocks away so I couldn't change my mind. Now I'm still not sure whether I made the right choice or not. Damn.
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Don sat down on the couch holding the letter in his hand. He couldn't stop staring at the return address. She lived in California. When she ran away, she went to the other side of the continent. He couldn't believe after all this time she had written him a letter. At one time, and possibly still, Ava Monroe had been the most important thing in his world. The first thing to ever come before his job. Now staring at the still unopened letter in his hand with a small frown, wide eyes, and erratic heart he wondered if she still wasn't as important to him now as she was then. Gathering his courage with a still pounding heart he ripped the envelope open. His heart beat even faster as he started to read her words. He knew her hand writing and he could almost hear her voice reading the letter aloud to him.

Dear Donnie,
I know that this has probably taken you by surprise. I'm wondering as I write this whether it's the right thing to do or whether you will even read this. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, it's been five years after all. Five years. It doesn't seem that long at times and others it seems much, much longer. Truthfully, I don't know why I'm writing this. I know that anything I say will never erase the pain that my cowardly actions must have caused you. I don't know why it has taken me this long to fully realize that I was wrong and a coward. I was a coward for leaving the way I did. I also know that my saying sorry is not enough, especially through a letter.

I realize now, after growing up a bit, that I was wrong and should have trusted in you and believed in you enough to know that you would never leave. I let my insecurities and my naiveté get the best of me. Instead of confiding in you as I should have done I ran. I knew in my heart that you loved me and for some stupid reason I couldn't make myself believe what my heart was telling me. You proved to me time and time again that you loved me and I took that for granted. I didn't fully believe.

I ran away mostly because I was scared. Scared that if I stayed and took that step and fully gave myself body and soul to you that I would somehow get hurt in the end. And I did. I hurt myself and you. You always told me I was hard to love because I never let people in. I didn't trust easily. You also said I need to pay attention to how I affected the people around me. I didn't listen to you and I really didn't listen to my heart. I listened to my head. I over think things. I always do. I still do but not nearly as bad. I had somehow convinced myself that I was making the right choice by leaving. I thought it was best for everybody. I was an idiot and maybe I still am. I'm still debating that topic.
I know that walking out on you was the biggest mistake of my life. And I'm not going to delude myself into thinking that you still love me. I'm sure by now that you have a beautiful wife and probably a couple of children. I'm sure they are beautiful too.

Anyway, I'm beginning to ramble. It's early morning here and I'm tired but I couldn't sleep until I wrote this. I guess the whole point of this letter was to tell you that I made a mistake, one that I probably can't fix. I also wanted you to know that I still love you and I always will. Also I'm going to be in New York in about two weeks. I don't know if you will want to see me, but I'm hoping it's a possibility. If so you can call or write me.
The best
Love Always Ava
P.S.
555-629-3126

His mouth was dry as he sat the letter down on the counter. As he had read he didn't realize he had started to pace. He couldn't believe that she was coming back. He didn't know if this was going to be something permanent or just a visit. Looking at the letter once more he picked up the phone. Listening to the dial tone his heart racing he dialed the number from the letter. As it began to ring his heart pounded louder then stopped as a voice came over the line.

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I was at the grocery store pushing the cart down the cereal aisle when my cell phone rang loudly. Searching through my purse I swore until I finally found it. Looking at the screen I didn't recognize the number. Normally I would just hit ignore if I didn't know the number but since I mailed that letter to Don I was picking up every time hoping it was him.

"Hello?" I said my heart racing hoping it was Don. It was always a letdown if it wasn't. For a few minutes there was silence on the other end. I could hear breathing so I know they didn't hang up. I was about to speak when a male voice can on the line. Unmistakably it was the voice of Donald Flack Jr. A voice I had missed too much.

"Ava? It's Don." At those words I almost dropped the phone. I was numb I didn't know what to say. My heart was beating erratically. Slowly I got my wits and answered.

"Don! Hey...um...I'm actually surprised you called."

"Yeah, I contemplated not calling, almost didn't, but actually needed to hear your voice to know it was actually you that wrote the letter." I heard him sigh. I sighed as well.

"Yes I actually wrote it. I wasn't sure that you would still be in the apartment so I was taking a chance."

"I'm still in the apartment obviously since I called. We need to talk."

"Yes we do. I have a lot of explaining to do." I replied. I knew that I had explained a lot in the letter but it didn't make everything alright. "I remember where the apartment is. Do you just want me to come over or meet somewhere?"

"Come over I'll be there."
"Okay See you then."

"See you then, Bye Ava"

"Bye, Don."

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~Two Days Later~
I got off the airplane and rushed through the terminal to grab my bags. I couldn't believe how nervous I was. Once I made it to a cab and got in, I was on my way. Finally I could marvel at the city I had loved but left behind. Much like the man I was on my way to see. I was nervous before but the closer I got to the apartment the more nervous I became. Eventually the cabbie stopped in front of the building. I paid my fair and grabbed my bags.

I slowly walked up to the doors gathering my courage as I went. I hadn't seen this man in five years. I felt like a little school girl. I pushed the button to Don's apartment and he buzzed me in. I pushed my way through the doors and got on the elevator. The elevator dinged as it reached the third floor. I felt my stomach was in my throat as I knocked on Don's door. The door opened quickly revealing Don Flack in all his glory. He still looked beautiful, even in sweats and a t-shirt. I started at him as he stared at me. Finally he spoke.

"Hi"

"Hi" I replied walking into the apartment. I gave a small smile to Don as the door closed with a click behind me.

The End