43. WORDS
"I love you."
No. That was too much. Too soon. Too much, too soon.
"Your support means everything."
Sincere. Honest, yes. But perhaps too desperate. It made him sound like he was struggling. He was. But she didn't need to know that. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, drag her down, make this minuscule flicker of contact any more painful than it needed to be.
"I cannot thank you enough."
That just sounded ridiculous. Perhaps even more desperate than the latter. Besides, he was making it sound like she'd just saved his life. Actually, maybe she had. She had given him his children back, after all. Both of them, really. And now, despite how he knows his actions have broken her heart, she has given him the most dazzling reference for a headteacher post.
And it has got him the job.
He couldn't see her. He knew that. So some fairly modest flowers, not too grand or gaudy or romantic, and a little card would have to suffice. Yet choosing what to write inside was killing him.
Words were exhausting. Numbers were much easier, because there was no interpretation. Numbers were the same to everyone. Numbers were numbers.
Whereas words…Words were knifes and warm blankets, threats or declarations, confessions and guns. Loaded.
He decides just to write the simplest and most true thing he doesn't have to think too hard about. Because she liked him best when he was like that; simple and unapologetically himself.
Thank you for everything, E x