A Thousand Letters

"But you love him. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe he loves you too, and if you guys just talked about it, everything would be fine. You could be together."

"It’s so much more complicated than that."

She stood, her face quirked with purpose. "You’ve just got to find a way to tell him how you feel, that’s all. At least find out for sure how he feels. Because look, what if you’re wrong? What if there is a way and you just haven’t found it yet? You can’t give up, not if you really love him. You’ve got to fight for him."

Out of nowhere, I felt exhausted, weighed down by the futility of Wade, of Rick, of my life. "I don’t know how much fight I’ve got. If I fight and lose—"

"But what if you fight and win? Isn’t it worth knowing?"

"Of course, but … Cam, it’s not the right time."

She took my hands. "Just think about it, okay? Be open to the possibility, and take the opportunity, if it arises. Does that seem reasonable?"

I squeezed her hands, thankful for someone who believed in me more than I believed in myself. "Very reasonable."

She smiled. "Good. And see? People love telling me their secrets."

And I couldn’t help but laugh.

Truth in Darkness

In the darkness

In the cold grip of night

When the light disappears

And the shadows swallow the sharp edges

This is where

The truth lies.

* * *

-M. White

* * *

Wade

"Here," Sophie whispered as she handed me a tent and a couple of sleeping bags. We stood in the foyer, Elliot passing things in from the stoop that she’d brought, all my concentration spent on keeping my eyes everywhere but on her. "Take this into the living room. We’ll put it together there."

"I’ll bring up the trees, too," I whispered back, and she nodded, smiling.

It was too much to resist, and I looked at her, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes — hers were on the ground as she brought in a couple more sleeping bags. I walked past her to deposit everything in the living room. She looked fresh and crisp, her cheeks rosy, dark hair falling over her shoulders, and I watched her as I passed through the room again, willing her to look at me. But she wouldn’t, just kept her eyes on her task or on Sophie as they moved things into the living room quietly.

She had every right to ignore me.

I trotted down the stairs and into the basement, grabbing the first Christmas tree I came to. We’d bought half a dozen on clearance the day before, and I’d hauled them all downstairs so they’d stay out of sight.

I kept on wishing things between us would get easier without effort, kept on hoping maybe she’d walk through the door and somehow I would be able to find the words. If nothing else, I hoped for cordiality at least, to be polite, pretend. It was so much easier to pretend.

And then again, it wasn’t. Being around her sent me into a tailspin, my sense of direction lost, the horizon constantly moving. Still she called to me without saying a word.

Elliot.

My heart flinched at her name in my mind, thinking about the day before, thinking about how angry I’d been and how bad I’d been at hiding it. She hadn’t forgotten about it either — she seemed smaller today, and it was my fault. I wanted to apologize, wanted to make it okay. But I kept hurting her.

The best thing I could do for her, the only way to protect her, was to keep my thoughts to myself. As if I could verbalize them anyway.

Time had burned my anger down to an aching smolder — as much as I hated seeing her with him, she wasn’t mine. The takeaway: I had no rights to her, and being angry or jealous about it wouldn’t change that fact. But Ben’s words echoed in my thoughts. We hadn’t talked, and I hadn’t asked Sophie who Jack was or what he meant to her. It could be nothing. It could be everything.

The more striking thing about the moment was the overwhelming desire to be the one to make her laugh. I wanted to be the one to touch her back with possession. But the world in which that possibility existed seemed like fiction, so far beyond me, so far out of my reach.

Futility. That was the thing I felt the most.

I trotted up the stairs and set the first tree under the window in the living room, and Ben headed down to grab another. I followed, finding him waiting for me, standing in the middle of the space with an accusatory look on his face.

"Tell me you’re going to talk to her."

I moved past him and picked up another box. "I don’t know, Ben," I answered impatiently.

"Because that was ridiculous. You two aren’t fooling anyone into believing that you don’t care that the other one’s in the room." He stepped in front of me as I tried to pass him. "You didn’t ask Sophie, did you?"

"No, I didn’t." I sidestepped him, but he blocked me again.

"Wade, you have to talk to her."

"Ben, it’s no use."

He still wouldn’t let me pass. "You have to at least try."

My teeth clenched and released as I put the box down, since I’d clearly not be leaving until I heard him out. But I didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t have to. "And say what?"

"You could start by apologizing."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Who says I need to apologize?"

"You’re telling me you were the picture of politeness when you got Shanghai’d yesterday? Because if I’m going by her body language, I’d say you weren’t pleasant."

I scowled at him.

"That’s what I thought. Just talk to her. You don’t have to profess your undying love, but an apology might be a good place to start."

I just stood there, scowling.

"Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe that guy’s nobody."

I still didn’t budge.