Slow Spinning Redemption

He hadn’t decided whether or not he should open the letter yet or simply throw it in the fireplace. He hadn’t watched the DVD that had been sent with it. That was locked in his closet until the night he got too drunk to keep himself from watching it. But a letter was different than videotaped memories. Bam was always videotaping memories. But seldom did the skater boy care enough about something to handwrite what seemed like four or five pages and then remember to send it, correctly addressed and with proper postage.

What the hell? What could it lead to that hadn’t already happened? Too much liquor, crying over photographs, and cursing out a woman he wished he could be. Fingers tore open the envelope. Only two pages, not five. Large handwriting, skipping every other line. Ville smiled.

Ville,

If you’re reading this then you probably know all about Missy, the wedding, the TV show, and.

Well, everything, I guess.

If you’re not reading this then it’s probably in the fireplace and I probably deserve it. I wanted to send you that notebook so you could read all the times I wrote down that I was sorry, but since I’m getting married I’ll probably be needing it soon.

Ville’s mind traveled backward in time to a day in the summer a few years past when he had been looking for a scarf of his that he knew his boyfriend had stolen. He had gone through dresser drawers and come across a five-subject notebook. He opened it up, eyes widening at what he saw.

Ape, I’m sorry I broke that angel thing.

Ape, I’m sorry I made a bonfire out of all those books.

Ville, I’m sorry I took your scarf.

Ville, I’m sorry I screamed at you. It wasn’t your fault.

Ville, I’m sorry I didn’t give a shit about whether or not you came.

Ville, I’m sorry I--

“What the fuck?” Bam’s hands snatched the notebook out of Ville’s hands, shutting it and slamming it back in the dresser. His blue eyes were . . . bright, but the emotion was one Ville couldn’t place.

“You’re not going to kill yourself and leave that next to a suicide note, are you?” Ville asked.

Bam shook his head, quiet.

“Babe?”

“I’m not good at saying sorry.” Bam said. “Even if I want to.” He closed his bottom dresser drawer with his foot.

Ville took his cue. “Babe, where the hell’s my scarf?”

I proposed after I saw you and her together. I guess I must have fucked up too much for you to take me back this time, huh? I know I did. You told me so when you were packing, but I guess I hoped anyway. I’ll never love anyone like you Ville.

I’m trying to be good to Missy like you told me that I always could be. You said I could be a good boyfriend and a good husband one day and I just want to prove that you weren’t wrong about me. I want you to not think about broken promises and wonder who will get what in the divorce if you see a picture of me and her in a magazine.

I wish it could be you, but I guess it can’t. My fault. Everything was. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you and I cheated and I was just the world’s biggest dick, I guess. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you deserved.

You were right. I didn’t want to grow up at all. I didn’t want to accept responsibility for myself or the things I did. I just wanted to be eighteen forever. Skate, shoot videos, party, and fuck. I didn’t care who I hurt.

You came back so many times I didn’t pay attention to your warnings. And then you didn’t come back.

...

I want you at my wedding, Ville. Please. I want to show you how well I’m doing. And I want to apologize to your face.

I’ll always love you.

- Bam

Ville closed the letter and put it back in the envelope before going to his closet and locking it up with the DVD. He would not be responding. He would not be going to Bam’s wedding. When the invitation came, he would throw it in the fire.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Bam.

It was that, even though he was relieved that Bam was finally taking his advice and being the person Ville always said he could be, Ville couldn’t stand to see it.

Not if the person Bam changed for wasn’t him.

Love burns jealous.