May 2000: Will

If I knew where we were headed, I would have played it like you originally intended. It was a slip, a lapse of judgement. Two lonely people in a lonely predicament, grasping at something that lets them know that they have someone other than themselves. And once that was proven, everything could go back to the way it was. But you grabbed onto my curiosity and wouldn't let go.

I just wish I had something to show for it.

Nothing killed me more than leaving you in that hotel room on our last night together. But I knew I couldn't wake you up and tell you what happened. Because if I did, I knew you would disappear, like you always used to. Only this time, it would be for a different reason. And this time, I would have a front row seat to watch as you walked out the door. I thought it would hurt more to watch you go than to be the one to leave.

So I did.

It was my turn to disappear. I'm still not sure which option would have been better. If it would have saved you any anguish to leave me, instead of the other way around, then that's what should have happened, and I'm sorry that I was so selfish. I promised never to hurt you. And I probably ended up becoming the very thing you wanted to get away from.

You've got to understand. The night in Vermont hooked me. The night in that Village café reeled me in. And the moments after that gave me more than I ever would have thought to ask for. I never wanted to push you into doing anything you didn't want to do; after all, it's part of the reason you came to me in the first place, you told me one night. And I kept telling myself I didn't want to get in over my head. We were merely dipping our toes in the water, getting a feel for whatever our connection had morphed into. But then you pulled me down below the surface, with a smile on your face and the taste of my lips on yours from the kiss you gave me the second before. And I realized that once I was completely submerged, I liked it better below.

Which is why I never blamed you for disappearing into thin air in the beginning. You would agree to stay the night in my apartment, but at the first sign of intrusion from the outside, you vanished. We could have been caught, you kept telling me. It wasn't fair of you to out me when you were the one who was doing this as a form of escapism.

But as I kept telling you, it went both ways. You were escaping a bad marriage and thoughts of failure. I was escaping from the loneliness of my failed relationship that had kept me in such a hard shell, that it was nearly impossible for me to get out of. Until Vermont. Vermont broke through. Vermont let me see the light I had shunned for so long. Vermont led me to you, a piece of you that was so rarely seen.

And then what happened in the hotel, while you were sleeping, made me realize that I probably wasn't the only one you were showing it to. It made me realize that there was another life for you outside of the room, outside of our trysts. Outside of me and any affection I had for you. And even though I tried my hardest—you know how much I tried—to make everything easier, smoother, when you were with me, I realized that even lying next to me in bed was complicating your life that much more.

I wish you would answer your phone, so I could tell you that. I wish that I could explain myself, and try to make things right.

Hell, I just wish I could hear your voice again.

Once I had given up hope that I would ever hear you on the other end of the line, I found someone and I tried again. Alex. He was perfect. We read the same books, listened to the same music, had the same sense of humor. God, we even had the same job, so we could honestly relate to each other on just about every level. He told me he would take me out for coffee.

He ended up taking me to the same café I brought you to when we tried to talk out our kiss in the cabin. And I knew that all I would be able to focus on was the memory of you. I still tried with Alex, if how I acted when it came to him can be called trying, but I knew it was doomed. You were the only one I wanted.

I still do, Karen.

I knew I needed to get away, and I needed to do it now; on top of everything I had experienced with you, Grace's love life made it so that my personal life mixed with my work life, and any attempt to separate it would have been futile, even though I did try. It got to be too much. So I left a message for Grace and Jack to find, hoping they would, and hopped the first plane to the Virgin Islands, thinking that it would do the trick. And for a little while, it was exactly what I needed.

Until Ben figured out where I was. And I was sucked back into reality.

But at least the time before he found me gave me a few moments to think.

This is what I know: I love the way it feels when you smile against my skin. You looked softer around your eyes every time they locked with mine. Even though you knew I would try as often as possible to make you laugh, you would indulge me anyway, because you knew I loved to hear it. When you weaved your fingers with mine, I felt recharged, revived, alive. When you were fast asleep between the sheets in that hotel room, I wanted nothing more than to climb in with you. When you were fast asleep, I kissed you on the forehead and hoped to God—or whoever was listening at the time—that you would feel it and not shrug it off as a dream.

Closing the door behind me while you were still on the other side was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

When I look at the sunset here, I wish that you were here with me, so that I could take you in my arms and show you what life should be. I know you have probably been here thousands of times; business trips Stan has dragged you on, random vacations over the years. But it would be different with me. It would be like you're here for the first time.

I agreed to help Ben out with a client here for a few reasons. I knew I needed my job back, and although I knew he wanted me back, I might as well start kissing some ass now to make up for the way I left, and the way I handled my re-employment negotiations. But mainly, I did it to take my mind off of everything I left behind in Manhattan. If I had something to do here, besides merely reflecting on everything that's gone wrong, I'd be able to clear my head. I'd be able to come back refreshed.

I'd be able to go back to the way things were before the cabin trip was ever a thought in Grace's mind.

It hasn't worked yet.

But I'm hoping it will.

Until then, I've been playing out scenarios, ways that we could have ended differently. But they all come back to this, they all come back to now. I wonder where you are. I wonder what you're doing. I wonder if you will ever pick up the phone when I call, or even go one step further and be the one to dial.

If I knew where we were headed, I would have played it like you originally intended.

Oh god, that's such a lie.

When it comes to everything that happened before I left you, I don't regret a thing.