Page 64 of Perfect Tragedy
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.
15
My heart stalls in my chest.
He’s here. Blake is here. He stares and me and his eyes take a journey from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I realize that I’m only wearing a tiny tank top and short shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination.
The fire in his eyes makes me realize that perhaps for the first time he’s looking at me completely unguarded and holy hell batman, I know without a single doubt that Blake finds me attractive.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly.
“Can-” his throat sounds dry and he clears it and tries again, “Can I come inside?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Of course,” I say when I realize he’s still on the porch and I’m leaning against the door stupidly staring at him.
He walks inside and I close the door. He steps into my house, pauses, and looks around curiously. I realize he’s never seen the home I’ve created for myself, which makes me wonder, “How did you know where I live?”
He laughs softly, “Jack. All I’ll say is that he’s pretty pissed off right about now and probably trying to fall back asleep as we speak.”
I return the slightly uncomfortable laugh imagining my angry brother.
