Perfect Tragedy by Jennifer Miller
14
It’s been two days since Blake walked away from me. I’ve gone to his house and pounded on the door demanding he talk to me, but he won’t answer. Maybe he wants me to believe he’s not there, but given his rental car is in the driveway, it’s a dead giveaway. I even got Jack to call him and then took the phone from him when he answered, but I just got a brusque, “Not right now, Sienna,” which was very frustrating.
It’s been a long day at work. I’ve participated in a couple meetings meant to motivate by brainstorming and collaborating with fellow practice managers. Normally they’re a great way to kick start a week and leave me feeling pumped up and motivated, but I’m struggling to hang onto any kind of positive feeling right now. Blake’s attitude and shutting me out is really messing with my head, not to mention my heart.
Focusing is difficult but I throw myself into my day and help train a new assistant, respond to emails, interact with patients, decide on a marketing strategy for the month, and work on organizing the upcoming team meeting among other things.
I’m grateful when the day finally comes to a close and decide before I go home to head by Blake’s once more but drive on by when I don’t see his rental car there. Not feeling like going home, I decide to make a stop on my way and swing into Vanessa’s driveway.
She and her little family don’t live too far away from me. When I knock on the door I’m not waiting long before my friend stands before me with no makeup, a shirt that has a substance on it that I don’t recognize with a tired look in her eyes, but a big grin on her face at the sight of me.
“Sienna! Hi!”
“Hi. Sorry I didn’t call first.”
She grabs my arm and pulls me inside, “You never have to call first. My door is open to you always, you know that.”
“Yeah well, it’s dinner time. I don’t want to interfere.”
“You’re not. Scott’s got Sam in the bath and I have a few peaceful moments to myself.”
“You sure I didn’t interrupt you going to take your own bath or shower?” I grimace at her in mock horror and she smacks my arm.
“One day when you’re in this position I plan on plastering my face to the glass windows of your home so I can enjoy the pure entertainment of you slowly going insane. Meanwhile, I’ll just laugh and tell you it’s not so funny now, is it?”
“Well, that’s fair,” I shrug and we laugh.
“So, spill it.”
“What do you mean? Why would you think I have anything to spill?”
“Oh please. I made one trip to the grocery store for milk and got an ear full all about Blake being here - which I totally called by the way…”
“Yes you did and thank you again for the heads up.”
“You’re welcome. I heard all about how great he looks, how bad Virginia looked… well dead…”
“Vanessa!”
“What? I’m just repeating what they said.”
I sigh and grab the chip bag from her counter, “Go on,” I tell her and place a BBQ chip in my mouth and chew happily.
“Hungry?” Vanessa teases me when I hum in happiness.
“I was so busy… well keeping busy… that I didn’t each much today.”
“Well, help yourself,” she says and snags a few of her own out the bag to munch. “I heard how handsome your brother looked.”
“True. It’s the uniform - the ladies love it. According to him anyway.”
“Anyway, I guess Blake has been all over town getting his mom’s affairs in order and I know that my best friend has to be feeling all kinds of things, so why don’t you fill me in on everything I’ve missed.”
So I do. I tell her everything from how it felt walking into the funeral and seeing Blake again after so long. How angry he was when we briefly spoke. The things Jack told me and how it lead to the conversation I had with Blake by the treehouse a couple days ago. Through it all she’s a rapt audience. Scott popped his head out once and saw our intense conversation, smiled, waved, and disappeared with Sam again. I’ll owe him one - busting in on their evening like this.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asks with eyes wide.
“Well, isn’t that the million dollar question?”
“It’s sad, that he would think that way,” she muses.
“It’s heartbreaking. I just don’t know how to get through to him.”
We’re quiet for a moment and then Vanessa’s eyes get big. “I know that look. What are you thinking?”
“What did he tell you he lived for when he was away? The way he still felt connected to home when he wasn’t here.”
“You mean when I’d email him?”
She nods, “When you’d email him.”
It isn’t long before I’m sharing the same wide-eyed look. I jump up, and she does too, I throw my arms around her and squeeze. “You’re brilliant. I love you. I’ll call you later.”
“You better! And I want all the credit after the sweet, sweet, love, got it?”
“Deal!” I smile and laugh. “Give Scott and Sam a hug for me.”
“You got it.”
I drive straight home, my mind already swirling with all the things I want and need to say. Could she be right? Could emailing him be the way to reach him? To get him to pay attention and actually hear what I have to say? And where do I even start?
Not knowing any other way, I start at the beginning, I start where we left off.
Dear Blake,
Leaving you that night, getting in Vanessa’s car and driving away was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. When the emotions I was holding in threatened to break me I did everything I could to push them away. I went to the graduation party, like I planned. I pretended to have a good time, even though I was broken and lost on the inside. I kept telling myself I was doing the right thing, that the only way to move on and to let go was to cut all ties. I lost count of all the times I thought about texting you or emailing you. All the times I almost broke and got in touch with you anyway, but stubbornness is a funny thing. It’s definitely one of the things I got from my mom that I both love and hate about myself. I’d like to tell you that if I had to do it all over again I would have made a different decision, but the truth is that I probably would do the same thing again. Looking back I realize that it made me stronger, made me realize that I can get through loss, that everything about who I am isn’t tied up in my feelings about a person even though sometimes it seemed like I didn’t know where I ended and you began. But know, that not one day went by where I didn’t miss you. That the loss of you wasn’t felt. Even though it was my own doing.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake,
College was pretty fun, but hard at the same time. As you know, I always planned on leaving our town if I could - knowing there’s so much to explore out there and wanting to be a part of it. That didn’t work out like I thought it would, but that’s okay. I stayed in Montana for college and so did Vanessa. That meant our friendship only became stronger, and together we learned we really had forged a friendship that would last a lifetime. We made other friends too, ones we still stay in touch with even now. All of us would go out together and through them I discovered a love for partying, laughing, and drinking and oh my gosh sometimes there was way too much drinking. For instance, did you know that after five shots I had better stop drinking or I suddenly think it’s a good idea to take off my clothes? It’s true. I’d feel like my body was on fire and needed air on my skin. How do I know this? Because those so-called friends have photo evidence. Maybe I’ll show you one day.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake.
One time, I met a boy in one of my classes. He flirted with me and asked me out constantly until I found myself saying yes. We spent every minute together for a while and I fancied myself ‘in love.’ One day we were supposed to meet for coffee at our favorite place on campus, but he didn’t show up. Worried, I went to his place and as I got to the door saw him kissing a girl goodbye as she left his place disheveled and well… let’s just say she looked like she’d been rode well. When he saw me, he tried to make all kinds of excuses, but I never spoke to him again. The sting of betrayal hurt and it took me a little while to get over, but it also taught me what true love should look like. Like the way I love you.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake,
Remember how we used to despise our English teacher Mrs. Dooberry in high school? Not only because saying her last name was almost impossible to do so without smiling and wanting to laugh, but because she made us read the worst books and then made us write five hundred word essays. You know it’s funny - those stupid expectations she had about how a paper should be written made a couple college classes a piece of cake. Guess she knew what she was doing after all.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake,
I hate you. Why did you choose her? Why wasn’t I enough for you? I miss you more than I can even express. Some days I am so great at pushing thoughts of you away, I can go without thinking about you, but that’s when you creep into my dreams. Dreams of what our lives could have been like if you had only seen me. Dreams of what your life is probably like now without me. This hurts. So much. Sometimes, I wish I could go back and do that night differently.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake,
If I had sent you an email when my mom passed - I know it would have read like this.
My mom is gone. They say it happened fast, that she felt no pain and it’s completely irrational but I feel angry about that. I’m angry because she got to slip from this world painlessly while leaving an emptiness in my heart so vast I don’t know that I’ll ever recover. It feels hard to breathe. Is it because I can’t live in a world without her in it? Did she take all the oxygen with her because I’m suffocating. I think irrational things like did she know how much I loved her? Did she know that I thanked God that he gave me to her? That watching the love between her and my dad is what makes me want a genuine relationship so desperately myself? Why didn’t I tell her I loved her more? Spend more time with her especially on those days when I took time for myself and pushed her aside, always thinking there would be another time. Do you think she forgives me for my selfishness; for all the times I was inconsiderate and ungrateful? Do you think she was proud of me? That she also thanks God that he gave me to her? How do we do this without her? How will I ever stop feeling so lost, so empty? My dad sits and stares and I wonder what’s going through his mind? Is he reliving their life? Or is he imagining all the things they didn’t get to do together? Does he have regrets too? I wish you were here. I wish I could ask you these things or that you would just hold me in your arms and make me feel at least for a little while that everything will be okay. Because right now, I can’t imagine it ever will be again.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake,
I’m angry. I had plans. I had things I wanted to do. A world I wanted to discover and explore. Remember that list of places I told you about? I still want to see them - desperately. I hate this town sometimes. The gossips, the way everyone knows everything about everyone. I’m mad at you. I’m mad at Jack. Why did you both have to decide to leave me? Couldn’t one of you have at least stayed? Made a different choice? Because who else is left now to pick up the pieces? Dad needs help. He can’t do this. He’s lost. He’s floundering. He misses her and it’s breaking him. He can’t - or won’t - keep up on things like he should. I’m leaving college, dropping out, because he’s more important. I need to help him, keep him from losing everything. He’s behind on… everything. I need to be there for him, run things, get everything back on track and I can’t do that and go to school full-time too. I feel selfish because I’m angry. Then, the next minute I know this is my choice and not one he necessarily wants me to make. But he doesn’t tell me not to do this. Periodically, I want to pretend it isn’t happening, that it’s all been a bad dream, and keep living my life the way I want to. I want to follow my dreams - once I determine what exactly they are - and not have to worry about anything or anyone else. I’m young. Why should it be my job to take care of my parent? And I’m still healing too. I miss her too. How am I going to do this? Can I even do this? I have to. He needs me. That’s all that matters.
Yours,
Sienna
Dear Blake,
Do you still think about me? I shouldn’t, but I still think about you. I try not to but I compare any man I date to you. Isn’t it stupid? You and I.. we never had anything. We never even kissed. My feelings for you were immature… weren’t they? Am I just using the memory of you to make excuses when things don’t work out? When I’m unable to connect with a man the way I wish I could? Maybe something’s wrong with me… am I broken? Am I incapable of having a relationship, of feeling deeply? Why do I let an old unrequited crush dictate my life now? Why have I built this up to being bigger than it ever was?
I don’t know who I belong to.
Sienna
Dear Blake,
He cares about me. We have a good time together. We laugh, talk about places we’d like to go, things we’d like to do, accomplishments we hope to realize. He’s a good man. I could see myself being happy with him, having a future, maybe a child or two, a house and dog. But something’s missing. When he touches me, kisses me, holds me, I don’t feel passion. I don’t feel whole. How long will I continue to let the ghost of what never was between you and me haunt my life now? Will I ever let myself be happy?
Yours even though I shouldn’t be,
Sienna
And on it goes. I send him emails about everything he missed. Feelings big, small, insignificant or ones that are absolutely everything - they contain my whole heart and all the truths - even if they don’t put me in the best light - especially those. Those are important. I don’t hold anything back. I tell him all the things I wish I had been able to tell him had he still been here - had things been different. I send them one at a time - all the emails he may have received from me had we kept in contact. And then, I send him the email of all emails. I lay it all on the line.
Dear Blake,
Did you know that after I met you the day that I fell from the tree house everything in my life suddenly became defined by one thing? Everything became before I met you, and after I met you. It’s funny though because now I can hardly remember any of the before because the afters consume me – it’s like nothing existed until you walked into my life. That day I had no idea that you had started the process of ingraining yourself into my heart, but you did. Little by little, day by day, another chapter created another story and that story added to the book of us.
All of the emails I shared contain pieces of me. Good pieces, bad pieces, embarrassing pieces, broken pieces. Do they make me less of a woman? Less worthy of love, happiness, completeness? Do they make me less attractive? Less desirable?
You told me that you losing your leg makes you less of a man, because it’s a broken piece of you, because maybe as a result of it you aren’t the same, - not as ‘whole’. Maybe things aren’t as easy as they used to be or exactly what you thought they would be. I think that the same thing could be said for all of us I’m sure, certainly I feel like that too given experiences I’ve endured. Experiences like losing my mom, feeling trapped into helping my dad and momentarily forgetting that doing so was ultimately my choice. Giving up my college experience and education, continuing to live in this town and losing parts of myself. These selfish, embarrassing, angry, frustrating moments are all broken pieces of me too. By your standards that makes me…what? Incomplete? Lacking? Deficient? Less than worthy to be enmeshed in the life of someone I love?
I certainly hope not.
You don’t understand how I see you or the depth of my feelings for you. You are more than enough. The total package. My feelings aren’t conditional, predicated on your physical stature or characteristics. I am not so vain, so superficial. I love you because of your heart, because of the man you are. I love the freckle under your left eye, the way you laugh with your whole body when you find something really funny. I love how you’ve always been caring and protective of me. I love how you cared for Mandy when your Mom couldn’t. I love the fact that my family is your family. I love your loyalty. I love how you’ve always treated me with respect and value. I love the way you run your hands through your hair when you’re nervous or stressed. I love how you’ve honored our country, that you gave up the likely role of a popular college jock – and then, literally a piece of yourself to serve it. But, Blake, I don't have blinders on either. I know you also have flaws and imperfections. Need me to name a few? Fine. How about how you can overthink things? You can be ridiculously overprotective, argue a point to death, are just as scared of spiders as I am, have a weird fascination with eating ketchup on all your meats and do you even floss? But the thing is, all of your experiences, characteristics, attitudes and attributes make you the man you are today - the man I've always loved. No matter what.
Regardless of never having taken vows, you can consider me all in, for better or worse. I made that decision a long time ago. No matter what you say, you can’t change my mind. I won’t let you. So, how dare you suggest that I’m not capable of loving you as you are. That some physical change would alter my impression of you, my thoughts toward you. Because it can’t. I have always seen you with my eyes wide open, in each stage of life, and accepted and wanted you as you were – and now is no exception. I take you as you are because loving you is a privilege. These things that we’ve been through, all of the tragedies, they’re all perfect, because they led us back to each other and if you can’t see that, I feel sorry for you. I hope one day you do, and until then, you know where to find me.
ALWAYS Yours,
Sienna
I laid it all out there. Said everything I wanted to say. The ball is in his court and while the thought of him remaining steadfast and stubborn to his way of thinking pains me, I know that I fully expressed myself and feel some level of comfort having done so.
When I look at the clock, I realize it’s very late. I grab a snack and force it down having missed dinner and knowing I haven’t had much of an appetite lately. I go through my nightly routine and collapse into bed. It’s far easier to fall asleep than I expected it would be.
Blake’s just out of reach. I keep calling his name over and over, my hand reaching out to him, but he’s beyond me. He goes through a door and I yank on the handle, but it’s locked, I can’t open it. I begin banging on the door, desperate to get through, desperate to reach him. He has to hear me, has to listen to what I have to say.
Suddenly I sit upright in bed, gasping for breath, realizing I was dreaming. Then I also understand that the banging is not just in my mind, it’s in my reality too.
I fumble my way out of bed realizing that the bang is coming from my front door; someone is on my porch. Squinting at my clock I see it’s three in the morning and my heart stalls in my chest for a minute worried about who it could be and what they might want at this time of the night. I proceed to answer with caution.
Hurrying, I yell, “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
I flip on the porch light and look out the peephole and my breath stalls in my chest as I yank the door open and blink several times wondering if I’m still dreaming.
Blake.