Would You Bargain With Hell?

R,

So, I take it you’re avoiding me. That’s okay, if you’re safe, if you’re happy, that’s fine, then stay away from me. Grace told me you were overseas, I can only wonder why. So, I get this is really lame, and writing you a note isn’t earning me any street cred, but Grace also said you changed your number.

I worry about you, and I want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all. No attachments, just let me see you, please.

If you would be so kind, meet me at the bridge Wednesday around nine.

Sincerely,

M

And suddenly, as I dropped the letter I started crying, because in his words were the truth, and his jagged penmanship I could feel the pain. I left him. I was the bad guy.

Then, I figured I had three choices, Marry Patrick, be with Mason, or run away. Each had it’s pro’s and cons.

If I married Patrick, my life would be generally stable, but I wouldn’t really be happy, as hard as I tried and pretended I couldn’t be happy with that life. Unless, Patrick would give up that whole rich kid thing for me, but I would never ask him to do that for me.

So I pulled a picture out of my pocket, the picture Janice took of Patrick and I in the London eye. His arm wrapped around my waist and us both smiling. The picture with the bent in corners, and I set it on the tiled floor.

If I saw Mason on the bridge, I would probably fall right into his arms, I would be happy but my life would be unstable. Mason was the boy who saved my life, but I knew whatever I chose he wouldn’t care as long as I was happy.

So, I pulled out the first note, the not Mason left me the night he slept over because he didn’t have a home. The note that started my first love, and I set it to the right of the picture.

If I ran away, the outcome would be unpredictable, I could make it big or I could die inevitably.

And in that place I put a twenty dollar bill, money for bus. Money that could take me far away.

I stared at the line-up, remembering the moments and possibilities that each held. I had never been good at this choosing, I couldn’t see myself hurting them. I loved them both, in different ways that were very similar. I was thankful to both of them, for teaching me about love, and life, and showing me a happiness I had never known. They never knew what an impact they had on me.

And here I was, after all this time, back where I began. Crying, in my room –notably a much better room- except I realized that there could be a fourth choice. There was always a fourth choice, the choice I tried to make a while ago, with one, very permanent outcome.