Page 84 of Perfectly Us
“What are you going to do with the letter?”
“I don’t know.”
“We could burn it.”
“So you’re a stalker, a serial killer,anda pyromaniac?” Shiloh tsks. “I sure know how to pick them, don’t I?”
I bump against him in our playful way. “I’m bein’ serious. Fire destroys, but it can also bring about change. New beginnings.”
“Like I’m burning the old me and embracing the new?”
“No. I don’t think you need to destroy the old you. You need him as a reminder of where you’ve been. Burning the letter can symbolize you letting go of the guilt though. Finally letting yourself be free from the weight of it.”
“Free,” Shiloh says, tipping his face toward the darkening sky. “Is that even possible?”
“I like to think so. It’s worth a try.”
So that’s what we do. A convenience store isn’t too far away, so we pile into Shiloh’s car and drive that way. I buy a lighter and add in two Cokes and a candy bar so it doesn’t seem suspicious, and then we head back to the lake.
The sun is completely set by the time we return to the spot near the dock.
Shiloh’s hands shake as he holds the letter between them.
“Do you want to read it first?” I ask. “You don’t have to read it out loud. It can be to yourself.”
He nods and opens it, using the light from his phone to see the words. As tempted as I am to read over his shoulder, I don’t. I face the water and rub his lower back, knowing this is something he needs to do himself.
“Okay,” he says moments later, voice shaking. “I’m ready.”
I hand him the lighter. “Light it up, baby.”
He cracks a smile as he grabs it from me and holds the letter above it. The flame spreads slowly at first, burning the corner of the page, then moving higher. The fire consumes it within seconds, the orange embers penetrating through the darkness.
Shiloh watches it burn, and I watch him. His expression is sad, but there’s something else too. Relief, maybe. Like maybe the fire set him free after all.
I thread our fingers together between us.
The breeze catches the ashes after they fall to the ground and carries them away. Weird how Shiloh’s the one who let go of his guilt tonight, yet I feel better too. All of this has weighed so heavily on his mind over the past several days.
I understand it now. Why he held me so close after sex. Why sometimes our kisses seemed to last for hours and how he crushed me to his chest, like he dreaded the thought of letting go.
It wasn’t because he was saying goodbye to me. As I stand beside him at the lake, our hands linked and my head on his shoulder, I think it was the opposite.
He was living.
Appreciating every moment.
***
Dad’s waiting for me in the kitchen when I get home. It’s after ten o’clock, so I’m surprised to see him out of his study. The place he goes to hide away from the world. Away from the memories that are ingrained into every inch of this house.
“Where were you?” he asks.
“With Shiloh.”
He nods and throws back a beer, drinking deep before setting the empty bottle on the counter. He’s not drunk, but I can tell he’s had a few drinks. It’s about the only time he ever really talks to me, as if he needs the alcohol burning in his veins to speak to his son.
“I know I haven’t been the best dad to you,” he says. “I can place blame on my own dad for being so strict. I can make up excuses and say I did my best. But truth is, I’m a shitty parent, Alex. I feel like one anyway.” He grabs another beer from the fridge and pops it open before taking a swig, a tremble in his hand. “I didn’t see what I was doing to you. What I was doing to him.”
