Page 6 of Pull
I flipped through the pages, skimming over some of my poems and songs I’d written in the past few days. It was an outlet I never thought I’d turn to, butsurprisinglyit was helping me get outsome of theemotions which were always begging tobe setfree. I knew I’d never show them to anyone. This journal was myownsafe space, dedicated to capturing the words I wouldn’t allow myself to speak, or even think. Getting it out on paper helped. It pacified me, if even just for a few moments.
The journal was still practically new, most of it still empty, but I just loved the feel of the paper. It was soft and smooth under my fingers, and as I flicked the pages quickly with my thumb, brushing to the very end, something caught my eye.
There was writing on the second-to-last page.
My pulse immediately sped up as I hesitantly opened the journal to the page with the writing.
Dear Ryan,
I blinked hard, my lip quivering.
It was a letter. And I knew right away,without reading anythingelse, that it wasn’t from Jess.
It was a letter from Ben.
My hands began to tremble as my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I squeezed my eyes closed and slapped the journal shut fast. I couldn’t read that. No way. It would completely derail everything.
Whatever he had to say, I couldn’t possibly hear, or read, right now. I wasn’t strong enough.
But everything inside me was vibrating with a curiosity fueled bylongingthat was so strong itactuallyforced my hands to open the journal back up.
I peeked at the page, biting down on my lower lip as I began to read…
My eyes savored every single word he had written, absorbing them and letting them seep into my brain. By the time I reached his signature at the end, I had read the letter a hundred times and missed my stop, riding the train all the way to theend, where it turned around and came back. And I was still reading.
Still quaking down to my core.
Still hungry for more words… more declarations. More Ben.
He said he loved me.
No.Loves. Present tense.
He. Loves. Me.
My eyes were so wide I could feel them drying out. I couldn’t blink. Fuck, I could barely move.
I just kept reading that word, over andover and over againuntil I felt like every nerve in my body was being snipped at the end.
I love you.
I’ll never stop loving you.
Give me the chance.
He wants a chance.
He loves me.
Ben Lockwood loves me.
I felt crippled. Distraught. Wrecked down to my soul.
There was no way for me to react, other than to just keep reading it, and imagine him saying it, out loud, to me.
My grief turned into hope, then quickly morphed into regret, followed lastly by anger.
Why couldn’t Ben have just said these things when we were together? Why did it take me walking out on him to realize what I had known in my heart since day one?
