From Wrath...
Dear Adam, I know you said you never wanted to hear from me again.
Adam Morgan held the match over the letter and paused for a moment, mesmerized by the dancing orange flame. It burned so brightly in the desert night. He dropped the flame into the darkness—and watched it spread.
I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before, and you won’t listen—but I’m not going to stop. I can’t, not until . . .
The envelope had arrived on his doorstep after dinner. She hadn’t even had the courage to stick around. Probably too afraid of what he’d say. But Adam had promised himself that he wouldn’t say anything at all. Not ever.
I know you think I betrayed you—betrayed what we had. But you have to understand, it’s only because I love you. And you love me, I know you do.
He hadn’t bothered to read it. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, he’d climbed into his car and driven out of town, down a long stretch of deserted highway. He’d pulled over to the side of the road and climbed out. Scrambled over pebbles and spiny cactus brush, with nothing to light his way but the crescent moon. Fifty yards into the wilderness, he’d stopped. Crushed the letter and flung it to the ground.
Lit the match.
If you would just let me explain, Adam. I had to get you away from her. She wasn’t right for you. She couldn’t give you what I could. She couldn’t love you like I did. Like I do. We’ve been friends forever—more than friends. You can’t give up on us. I can’t. I won’t.
The flame was slow, almost deliberate. It ate into the letter, blackening the edges. The pages curled in the heat. The letters swam in front of his eyes, nothing more than meaningless black scrawls. None of her words meant anything now; everything she’d told him over all these years had added up to nothing but lies.
For a moment, Adam was tempted to stick his hand in the flame. Maybe a physical pain, torn and blistering flesh, would steal his attention from the other, deeper pain that refused to go away. But he kept his hand still. And the letter burned.
I’ll keep apologizing until you hear me. Until I can make you understand. I can be a better person. I can be anyone you need me to be. But I can’t do it without you.
The letter was almost fully consumed. Adam was getting cold, and knew he could stop now, stomp out the fire, and leave the remaining fragments for the animals and the elements.
But he waited, and the fire burned on.
I miss you—don’t you miss me?
And on.
I need you. We need each other.
And on.
Please.
And then there was just one smoldering fragment left, curling into the flame.
Love forever,
Harper
Adam stamped out the glowing pile of ashes and walked away.
|
