I want to lie to you and tell you that I don’t love you and that we can’t be together anymore to make this easier for both of us, but I can’t. You deserve more than that. You deserve my honesty.
I love you so much it hurts. It hurts not to be there with you right now. It hurts to know that our dream won’t ever come true. And it hurts because I finally had you just to lose you all over again. My love for you is the only thing that is pure in this tarnished body of mine. And I refuse to taint it with my selfishness. It is because of that love that I’m letting you go, my eternal summer.
I’m setting you free.
I can’t let you sacrifice your career for me, Ronan. Not when you’re so close to achieving everything that you’ve dreamed of.
You were meant to soar, to be adored.
You deserve all the success that you have coming your way, and the last thing you need is someone like me holding you back. Our short-lived daydream painted such beauty, such hope, but I would never forgive myself if you gave it all up to be with me. Eventually, you would grow to resent me, maybe even hate me, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you did.
I hate to say good-bye to you like this, but I’m weak. I don’t think I would be able to let you go if I saw you again. I would fist fight through the pain and all the righteous reasoning to keep you close to me.
Maybe one day we’ll meet again, but if we don’t, know that I will always be waiting for you in that place between sleep and lucidity where dreams come alive. That’s where our love will always exist.
Don’t look for me, please. Move on. Live. Love again.
Yours always and forever.
Blaire.
Something falls out, catching my attention. Bending down, I pick up Blaire’s paper ring. I grip it tight in my fist as I sit down on the bed and will myself to feel something. Anything. But there’s nothing left inside me.
It is all gone.
Blaire
Two months after…
NUMB.
How can I go on?
Will I ever be able to?
Blaire
Six months after …
THERE’S A FOG THAT HAS settled around me. Grief holds me back and I can’t break past it. I panic. I breathe in and exhale. Tell myself that it will get better. It must. So I keep walking, with my arms outstretched, hoping to eventually find my way.
Blaire
A few years later …
“HOW ARE YOU DOING?” my mom asks on the phone. “Are you excited?”
I throw the rest of my breakfast away and wipe the counter of my small kitchen clean. Gripping my cell tighter, I smile. “You have no idea. I can’t believe that I’m going to Paris in a few days.”
“Don’t forget to buy a nice gift for Joanna and Jacob, honey.”
“Already got it, Mom. And I also called them yesterday to thank them for giving me the job.”
A couple years ago, heartbroken and unsure of what to do with my life, I went back home and spent the rest of the winter and spring with my mom. It wasn’t easy at first, but every single argument was worth it in the end. Together we found forgiveness and eventually love.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, I came to the realization that somehow, unbeknownst to me, a part of my core had changed. My mom had told me that if I wanted change, it had to start from within, and she was right.
I couldn’t go back to sleeping with men for money. The thought alone made me sick. There was a time when I could have given my body to a man who I didn’t love. He would finish, I would go home, sore between the legs, numb, my pride in shreds and with a bank account full of money. I wasn’t happy. However, I was safe. But how could I go back after everything that I had shared with Ronan and when every part of me still belonged to him? It was unthinkable.
Change doesn’t happen overnight. But the hunger, the thirst to make something of myself bloomed like a flower in early spring. And suddenly the barren landscape that my life morphed into wasn’t so barren anymore. That’s when I decided to go back to New York City, enroll in school, and get my art degree.
It hasn’t been easy. Far from it. But for once in my life I can say that I’m proud of myself. Learning to forgive and love myself came later … and that took a lot more work than I expected. It’s no easy feat to let go of a lifetime full of hang-ups. It’s a daily battle.
“Are you sure that Elly’s husband won’t mind you staying in their apartment while you work there?” my mom asks, concern embedded in her voice.
I pick up my bag and keys, locking the door behind me. “Nope. Alessandro is the sweetest man. He told me that his parents own another apartment that they can always stay at. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m hoping to save enough money working at Joanna and Jacob’s art gallery to be able to afford my own place.”