Letter no.7

A short story about love & self doubt.

Going through social puberty in your 20s is both inconceivably embarrassing and yet one of the most freeing experiences of your life. You can finally date at the age of 22, but you don't know what to look out for because you didn't spend your teenage years developing a perfectly crafted radar for bullshit. After a few ill-fated decisions, you choose to not engage in dating again for fear of making a mistake that would tar you for life. And sure, that feels rational, but my god, wouldn't it just be easier to fall in love once and for all?

In Lucy's case, it often felt like she watched her life happen right before her eyes. All her peers passed by quickly instead of the slow-motion that seemed to guide her. She felt stuck. It wasn't the kind of stuck where you could use soap and oil to wriggle yourself out. It was the type of stuck where whenever she attempted to alter anything, it would all cave in on her—consuming her into the ground and rendering her dead upon arrival. So she sat there, in slow motion and stuck, not making an effort whilst days passed and nights vanished in a twinkle.

Tinder wasn't something Lucy enjoyed; I think I can confidently say that most users of the app are, in fact, the biggest haters of the app. But meet-cutes were definitely a bygone era of Tom Hanks and Kate Hudson rom-coms, and so, one night, on a drunken whim, she re-downloaded it for the 20th time and expected the worst. Instead, she found Anna.

The first time Lucy saw Anna's profile, she wondered how one could be so beautiful. If you saw her walking around, you'd most likely stop in your tracks to collect yourself in fear of looking like an idiot in front of someone so ethereal. She had a smile that cured any bout of anger one could hold, and her lovely words felt like an all-encompassing hug. She seemed so carefree and in love with life, which wasn't how Lucy spent her days. 

But what Lucy recalled the most were her eyes. She told me that eyes were her indicator of whether or not someone was worth falling for. And in her opinion, Anna's eyes felt like looking into a melted pot of love, comforting and frightening at the same time. It frightened her because Lucy had never felt love, not truly. She had boyfriends and dated people she thought loved her, but as men tend to do, they spun her beautiful and hollow lies to get closer to her. But here was someone who wanted her, and she saw Lucy as a person. 

Lucy knew that being seen was something she had longed for, that the parts of herself she hated and wanted to remove were now being audited by someone else. Lucy would often say that she was frightened of being abandoned, and that was why she pretended to be an easy-going girl. The girl that wouldn't be referred back to as a crazy ex or someone who felt too many emotions at the wrong time. So, she stayed silent, and the feelings rose until it was impossible to keep down.

The parts of her that she couldn't stand were what Anna loved. Anna loved how when Lucy thought too deeply about something, she scrunched her nose and began toying with her fingers. She loved how Lucy took her glasses off so she could properly look Anna in her eyes, that the caressing stare was not beholden to glass. Lucy would say she felt embarrassed by her glasses, and that's why she took them off.

Throughout their relationship, they had each written each other a total sum of 7 letters. Contents of 5 are unknown, but I suspect they contained a myriad of love notes and smelled of the heavy perfume each used when they knew they would spend time with each other. The sixth and seventh letters, however, are known.

It's the letter Lucy wrote when she began doubting herself and her capacity to love. Two months in, and she began to feel bored, that familiar feeling of stuckness crept back up. Lucy didn't know why or how to get rid of it. On paper, her life seemed to be getting better; she got a new job, she was in love with her girlfriend, and she was moving outside of her comfort zone. So, what was wrong? 

When she first read the letter in front of Lucy, Anna didn't respond; she smiled and gave her a kiss. Lucy thought that meant everything would be okay. They could move through her feelings of wanting to explore elsewhere romantically. What Lucy didn't know, however, was that she had broken the heart of the first woman to ever love her. There weren't fights. There weren't any vicious text messages or blaming voice notes. They didn't talk for a week, and then Anna asked to meet at a park. Lucy didn't know how to respond, part of her thought it would be easier to do this over text, but the guilt superseded her need to hide. 

The pair sat on a bench during an August breeze in the middle of the day; the sun shone on their faces as Anna handed Lucy a letter. They didn't speak much; their former pattern of telling each other every thought on their mind had fallen by the wayside, instead replaced by awkward silence. Anna said that she should read the letter after this was over. Lucy tells me that she doesn't recall Anna crying, but the stain of tears seemed to be present on top of her makeup.

The pair hugged and walked their separate ways. As Lucy waited for an Uber, she opened the letter. She still can't relay what Anna said but remembers feeling as if she had just committed a  crime. For even after their departure, Anna still loved her. She wanted Lucy to remember how important she was and that her stuckness wouldn't be there forever. Lucy doesn't recall the next part of the day because she got blacked out at a stranger's party. She just knows she got home at 6 AM, crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep for the next seven days. 

Perhaps this was an eternal punishment that she was meant to go through. Never truly knowing how to love people or accept the love given to her. But how do we ever feel settled if everything constantly feels like it'll collapse around us? 

It's almost been seven months. Lucy wonders if Anna's found love again. Lucy has, but that feeling of stuckness remains. She can't tell if it'll ruin her again. I hope it won't.

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Blah, if you’ve read this far, thank you for sitting through this. I can’t tell if there’s something here or if it’s worth reading but thank you.