August 6
Stella,
Remember when you ran into me in the lobby the night we signed our agreement? You mentioned a date should include dinner, drinks, and hand holding. Or, as an alternative, cuddling on a bench overlooking the river, followed by whispered sweet nothings and a goodnight kiss.
At the time, it was the most atrocious thing I’d ever heard, but if you ever come back to me…I have it all planned out.
We’ll have dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant in Columbia Heights. It’s a tiny place, barely large enough to seat a dozen people at one time, but they make the second-best gnocchi in the world (after my grandmother’s).
She’s not here anymore, but when I was a kid, I went to her house after school and she spent hours teaching me how to cook. Besides my time with you, those days were my happiest. Laughing with her in the kitchen, rolling the dough and getting flour all over ourselves while the old sixties music she loved played in the background.
Her gnocchi was my favorite dish. Unfortunately, her recipe was lost after she died, but when I tried it at this restaurant…it was the closest I’d found to how she used to make it.
I know I went off on a tangent, but I wanted to share that story with you. I’ve never told anyone about how I learned to cook before.
Anyway, I think you would love the restaurant. After that, we’ll have drinks at a bar nearby, then go to the Georgetown waterfront and sit on a bench by the river. We can kiss and hold hands and whisper however many sweet nothings you want.
Because if this date does happen, it means you’ve forgiven me. And if I have you back, I’ll never give you a reason to leave again.
* * *
August 12
Stella,
It’s two-thirty in the morning as I write this.
I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.
But I couldn’t go to sleep without telling you this…
I’m trying, Butterfly. I’m trying so fucking hard.
To stay away from you. To not think about you. To not love you.
My life would be so much easier if I could move on, but I know I can’t.
Even if you never forgive me.
Even if you never talk to me again.
Even if you move on.
I’ll still love you.
You will always be my first, last, and only love.