~from letters one, three, and six
Wait. What? And double huh? If you’ve read any of Jean-Luc’s poetic prose from the excerpts I’ve posted, you’d know he had no reason to apologize. For anything.
It’s me. I’m the one that needed, no needs, to apologize.
After Tracey and I jaunted around Europe, I returned to school in August to find five of the seven letters waiting for me. I remember sitting on the front steps of my sorority house, sorting the letters by the postmarked date. At first, I was overjoyed. But then, one by one, I opened the envelopes and read the sixteen or so pages of beautifully words.
Words, I felt, I didn’t deserve.
Unknown to Jean-Luc, the confident girl he met in Paris was plagued with insecurities for reasons unknown to him. In the past, once somebody tried to get too close me, brick by brick, I always, and I mean always, put a wall up around my heart.
Trust me. This was much easier to do when the person was oceans away.
Brick by brick by brick by brick, afraid to get hurt, I’d shut myself off emotionally.
The sixth letter showed up a few weeks later, just as wonderful as the rest. The pressure was on. What could I say now? Do now? I tried calling him a few times, but the moment the other end rang, that strange European drone, I hung up. And I tried writing a few letters, but none of them were good enough for me, for him. It was November when the seventh letter arrived. By this time I felt so guilty, I went numb.
“I have never received any news from you, even a single letter with just a “How are you, guy?” ~ excerpt from letter seven
Instead of letting my heart take a risk, I ruled with my head.
I never wrote him back.
Not one word.
Hold your horses. Did I say never? Didn’t James Bond teach anybody anything?
Never say never.