Page 23 of My Starry Valentine

Even though Chuck’s my closest friend and a happily married man, jealousy tackles me. “And why would I do that?”

“Because it’s customary for friends to confide in one another, and as I remember, I’ve told you more than you probably have ever wanted to know about my personal life.”

I nod, though my friend can’t see me.

What greater harm can any of this do? It’s not like I’m ever going to see Luna again. But she’ll always be an integral part of my life experience and one I still have to process. So, I do something unthinkable. Maybe all the years of therapy have finally gotten to me. I put my cell phone on my Jeep’s Bluetooth device so I can drive and talk hands-free, confessing everything.

I’m still on the phone by the time I reach my driveway.

Chuck’s voice sounds exasperated as he asks, “So, you’re telling me you finally found a woman you’re interested in, and she’s obviously into you, and you didn’t even get her number? What the heck, Ledger.”

“It’s for the best,” I grumble, entering my cabin and looking around the sad, quiet space. Every place my eyes glance, a memory of Luna greets me. I see her in the kitchen, arranging pepperoni slices on pies like a mosaic maker. Her face greets me from the fridge as she kneels, looking for a cold one. Both of us lie wrapped beneath the blankets on the couch, falling in love with each other in the still of the early morning.

“You’re an idiot,” he says flatly.

“I’m an idiot, I’m ugly, and I’m lonely. What’s new?”

“Seriously, Ledger. God delivered you something precious and special…something to cherish, and you rejected it? What’s your problem, man?”

“It would’ve never worked out,” I growl, feeling far worse than Chuck could ever make me, already drowning to the depths of my soul in regret. “It was the only decent thing to do if I really claim to love her.”

“So you say…”

I sigh, my eyes falling to a white folded sheet of paper on the kitchen counter. My throat knots as I walk over, retrieving and opening it. I stare at a watercolor portrait of me, one half of my face shrouded in darkness and hair, but the likeness startlingly accurate. Turning it over, I read the words scrolled on the back in pencil: “A man worthy of love…”

I swallow loudly, my chest constricting.

“Ledger, are you still there?” Chuck hollers.

“Yeah, I am. Hold on a sec.” After taking a couple of deep breaths to pull myself together, I explain to Chuck what I hold in my hand, feeling like the biggest fool to inhabit the planet. “What does this even mean? I know the conversations we’ve had about God over the years. Why is He doing this to me? It was hard enough to go through all the pain and horror of acclimating to this future. Why rub salt in the wound?”

“Everyone deserves love.”

“Not me. Not with the hand I’ve been dealt. It’s curse enough for me. I can’t put this on someone else, too.” Guilt seizes me in its steel grip. Guilt for surviving when my comrades died. Guilt for wasting the second chance I’ve been given because of self-pity. Guilt for wanting things I can’t have, even at the expense of others…because my having Luna would come at the expense of her future.

“I think you’re being a stubborn idiot right now. Especially over stuff that’s ultimately so superficial. But here’s the advice I’d give to anyone who felt unloveable. Don’t let her go. Figure out how to deserve her.”

“Easier said than done…”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “As long as you stay mired in self-pity and self-loathing, I agree with you.”

Silence.

“You’re a former Marine and Pacific Coast surfer. You ice and rock climb. You horseback ride for weeks at a time in the backcountry on cattle drives and jump out of planes for fun. None of these activities leave room for giving up or giving in. You’ve got to bring that same energy to this situation.”

“It’s not the same thing. I can’t become her burden…”

“So, you’ll curse her to be as miserable as you are? From what you’ve told me, she digs you just as hard. And she put herself out there for you even more, if I understand everything you told me correctly. By making this decision for the both of you, without consulting her, you’re denying her love and a future, too.”

I sigh, thoughts of the past couple of days pressing in on me, making me miserably lonely without her. My mind spirals, and I can’t find the right words to articulate my feelings.

“Are you still there, Ledger?” Chuck asks.

“Yeah,” I say tensely.

Silence.

I have to hand it to Chuck for his patience with me over the years, and his forbearance now as I process everything that happened this morning.

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