Chapter 64

64

I found the letter sitting on the

night-stand a few hours after she had left.

Two pieces of paper, standard, 8x11,

that she must have taken from my office.

They were folded into thirds and held

tightly together by three staples that she

must have slammed into the paper with

purposeful force. I had to rip them open to

get to the words within. She began:

I have and always will be a woman consumed by love.

I have spent my entire life searching for that Hollywood perfection, that Rosalind Russell /Cary Grant sort of love that’s playful and knowing, smart and confident, and most of all...unbreakable.

Not every little girl dreams of marriage.

Not every daughter dreams of their father walking them down the isle.

But every girl, every person rather, dreams of being in love. Richard, when I met you, believe me, that dream came true.

When I showed up on your doorstep, half drunk, rain-soaked and broken, I had no interest in staying for long. Simply a night, maybe two, and I would vanish. Perhaps I would have left a note, a simple thank you letter, but I wasn’t planning on loving you. I was planning on moving to Portland.

But one night became many and began to include days which strung together like a passing train. You swept me up in the whirlwind that is loving you and soon my thoughts of flight hovered much closer to the ground.

I’ve grown so accustomed to us that now, now that it’s time for me to say goodbye, I barely know which foot to begin with. I hate leaving you like this, Richard, but this is fucking killing me.

I could dam a creek with all the things that I just can’t do anymore. I can’t sleep one more night alone. I can’t make dinners for two and then eat them by myself. I can’t pretend that I’m o.k. Above all, I can’t sit here and watch this die. With a little time and support we could have survived the loss of our daughter and eventually, we could have tried again. I could of handled that and we would have been happy again. But I can’t lose the love you and I created together. I can’t watch from the other side of your office door while we fade like photographs. I just can’t do it anymore.

You’re in there now, locked away in your office, drinking, smoking, staring at your typewriter, desperately hoping that the keys will begin to clack by themselves, the words necessary to reason through our loss appearing on the blank page like the ghosts they’re meant to reveal. But they aren’t coming, are they? And yet, you’re still staring.

Don’t you know that I’m staring too?

Don’t you know that I lost everything too?

I can’t bear your burden any longer, Richard, my love. My everything will remain here long after I go, obediently sitting outside your office door. I hope, for our sake, that one day you’ll open that door and return to the life you’ve left behind. After everything we’ve been through together, we deserve that. I love you, but I can’t bear witness to this death.

Until we meet again -
Jamie