“This isn’t therapy, Rose. You’re pressing pause on your life. You are not moving forward, and you must stop sending … No-Name … these letters. He hasn’t even responded.”
“I haven’t left a return address,” I tell her, hoping it makes her realize I’m being truthful about this being a selfish act of therapy.
“Rose,” she says, chuckling. “The postal service will stamp it with the county origin. Frankie knows your last name. Therefore, he could find you if he wanted to, sweetie.”
I didn’t think of that.
“Fine, this will be my last letter.” It’s so easy to say this will be my last letter, but I hadn’t considered the fact that there hasn’t been a response from the dozen letters I have sent in the last two months.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe that one when I see it,” she teases.
“Truthfully, I’m signing off in this letter.”
Dear no-name,
I am running out of things to say to you, so this will be my final letter. Did you know my parents have been together for thirty-two years, and they still love each other just as much as they did when they first met?
Throughout their married life, they have argued, they have said hurtful things without intention, and they have walked out of the house to take a long quiet ride. While growing up, I can recall the days they had arguments. They didn’t happen often, but when they did, I was very aware, and it hurt me to see their love tarnished, even if it was just for a few hours. However, you want to know the best part about taking part in an argument? It’s the part when you make up. It’s the part when you remember all the reasons why you love the other person and wonder why there was even an argument. Couples argue because they are full of passion—it is important for their partner to understand them because understanding makes up a very large part of a relationship. Understanding is like the glue between a couple, and without understanding, everything will eventually fall apart.
I still don’t know why you did what you did, but if I had done something wrong, I would have hoped you would have had some understanding for me. Understanding would have kept us together. On the contrary, someone could be the most understanding person in the entire world, but if the pieces of a relationship have already broke, even the strongest glue—understanding—won’t work because when something as gentle and vulnerable as a relationship breaks, it doesn’t just break, it shatters like glass. There isn’t a type of glue in the world that can fix that.
I have shattered. I will never be the same, regardless of the understanding I have maintained. You broke me, Frankie. You broke us, and forever, the us part will always be in thousands of pieces that can never find their way back together.
This is my final goodbye. I hope you find some understanding for the next person you love, and I hope the understanding is stronger than glue—enough to hold you through the hard times.
I understand, Frankie. I understand you weren’t strong enough to be faithful, but your weakness has, in turn, become my strength.
That strength is this goodbye. Forever.
Love (for the last time),
Rose
“Feel better?” Suzette asks as I slip the letter into the envelope.
“I do feel better,” I tell her.
Suzette smiles and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I knew you’d come around, eventually,” she says. “I’m proud of you.”
“How are you so strong?” I ask her. “I don’t understand why it has taken me so long to say goodbye.”
“I put a picture of … No One … inside of my closet door, and I throw darts at his head each morning when I wake up.” Suzette is as serious as I’ve ever seen her.
“Are you joking?”
She takes my hand and leads me down the short hall into her bedroom where she opens the closet door that showcases a picture of her ex-husband with thousands of little dart holes all over his face. “That is a piece of art,” I tell her.
“Right? I think so too. Look, sweetie, we all grieve in our own way. I just want to make sure you’re heading in the right direction—that’s all.”
“I am now,” I say, releasing a deep exhale.
“I know.” Suzette pulls me over to her bed where she plops down on the edge. She pats the space next to her for me to take a seat. “So. I have
a date tomorrow night.”
“You do not!” I yelp. Suzette has sworn off men since I moved in with her. “I thought you were never going to date another man again.”
“I know what I said,” she gushes. “But he’s a lovely man, Rose. I like him. He comes into the clerk’s office once every few days just to bring me afternoon tea. Who does that?”