Page 140 of Van Cort
Or not.
What would you prefer?
I don’t know how it will all work, really. I’m easier than him, though. Whatever makes you happy, will make me happy. But I don’t have the responsibility he has either. So, I guess, we’ll have to find a workaround for Van Cort and business.
And children – I want them. For lots of reasons.
When you’re ready.
He does, too.
I don’t know how that will work either.
Am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling now.
He told me to go home a while ago and deal with the house, with the past. He said that I needed something to do. I’m not like him, though. I can’t refocus or divert myself. I yearn, ache. There’s only one thing I need to do. You. I need to do you, Andie. Let me. Please. Don’t let the way it started ruin what can come, and don’t let the idea of three be so different from normality that it stops you letting the experience be exciting and new. Yes, it’s bold and unusual, but it’s just us, Andie. Just us three.
It can work.
It will work.
Everett didn’t show love in the same way. I already knew that. He also wasn’t as open in his first letter. But there was time, and this was part of that process. So after the first attempt from him, I wrote back, and asked him a question I needed to have answered. What did being Mrs Van Cort mean to him now? Had it changed, knowing I might not want to be her?
River.
I don’t know how to write these words to you.
But I assume you know that, don’t you?
You’re pressing me, and you’re right to do so because I have never given an inch more in terms of emotion than I’ve had to – with anyone. Until you. I’m not sure if you can understand why that’s the case or not, but I need to explain some of it so you do.
I’m sure West has given you quotes of undying love, of romantic vacations and words that will linger in your heart for the rest of your life. He means them. With every fibre of his being. He will, without doubt, whisk you off your feet at everygiven moment and ensure that each second of the time you spend with him is filled with enjoyment and laughter. I would if I was him, too. I’m not him, though, and whilst I will never begrudge him or you that happiness, you should understand why my idea of you, us – the two of us alone together, will always be different from that.
A long time ago, a boyish me tried to rescue his brother. I was determined, with everything I had at the time, to save him. In some respects, I did. In others, I failed. Both of those factors made me choose to remain distant with anyone other than him. Not because the thought of closeness frightened me, but because there wasn’t any point in being close with anyone else but him. He knows me. He is me.
Whilst I can’t hide myself from him – no twin can – forming a barrier around myself, a shield, protects me and those around me from past experiences that have nothing to do with them. Perhaps, without them, I’d be more like him because those experiences, no doubt, altered my way of being. They altered my approach, my thoughts, and, more importantly for you, I’m sure, my heart.
I have no desire to discuss them, dissect them, or relive them, other than those small words.
They are gone. They are the past. You are my present and future, if you still want that.
You ask what being married to you is, what being Mrs Van Cort looks like for me? I don’t know. I only know that she does look like you, River. She has never looked like anyone else but you and, for me, having you beside me for the rest of my life is all I need marriage to be.
If we’re being truly honest with this open communication, I need you to hear that and understand that I have no ability to tell you what else marriage is because I have never wanted it before you. I’ve thought for hours about howI could tell you all the things you need to hear - some more romantic notions of love tied with silk ribbons, but the fact is that those kinds of words will only show you a shell of me, a performance. We’re past that. I refuse to show you anything other than the Everett Van Cort you can pull from me – the one who never really lived before you. Although you should know, I am lost as to what he looks like. I’ve never known him.
Instead, I’ll tell you this:
Every time I touch you, the memories disappear.
Every time you touch me, the future calls in a way I never thought possible.
And every time I wake up next to you, something eases inside me.
For me, you are the gold rays in what has always been a storm-laden sky, River.
I don’t know how you do any of that, or why, specifically, it’s you who managed to break through. It could be your smile, or your analytical approach to me, or even the way you refused to allow my sanctimonious bullshit to disrupt who you are. I don’t know those answers. I wish I did, because – as we both know – I always know everything, but I think, after hours of reflection and pacing, that’s the point of us, of you. You challenge me to think of something brighter than my own thoughts allow. You inspire me to be better than I have been. You’re my journey into a future I knew nothing of before us. You’re my endless rivers of gold.
Will I be there every day for you? Yes, without fail. Even if I’m not there, I will drop everything to ensure you get the best of me.
