I Miss You
Chapter 11: If I Said I Miss You
She has fallen into a funk. Three days after New York City and she still can't get that five minute conversation out of her head. When she had applied to the study abroad program months ago, she had never taken into consideration that he might not want her back. That he might have moved on. But from the moment she bumped into him to the sight of him turning his back on her that second time, she had felt the distinct, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach warning her that things could never be the same between them again.
She knows in her heart that she did cheat on him, despite the acknowledged break up. The relationship they had shared had gone far deeper than any words that might end it. Their feelings were far too powerful to be flicked off like a light switch; the unspoken understanding between them was that she would take a time out and discover what she wants in life, not date other guys. Maybe if she had discovered that she could fall in love with someone else then the dating might have been understandable. But that had not been the case. She knew she wanted Tristin, that she would never find someone who was more perfect of a match.
It's not as if she had walked away that night plotting to break his heart and make them both miserable. She had fully intended to examine her feelings, to come to some sort of conclusion. But somewhere along the way, something had happened. She realized that she had been terrified, of him, of them, of the future in general. She had looked into his eyes and found herself falling head first into a love so unconditional and pure that it had frightened her. Was she ready to make the same commitment he was declaring to her? Ten months ago, the answer had been no. But today...today the answer had changed.
Too late. Time had changed her, and time had changed him as well. She had let too much time fly by. Time had taunted him, each passing second feeding his fear that she no longer loved him. The confirmation that she was indeed seeing other people had broken him. Why would he question it? She had given him no reason to believe otherwise. Too late.
Even in that five minute conversation, did she give him any sign that she still cared? Every word she had said to him sounded hostile and petulant, even to her own ears. What he must have been thinking, if he still cared by that point...
She can't let things between them end like this. Something in her heart cries out for one last chance to mend the tattered remains of what might have been, what still could be. But how can she even begin to explain what she is thinking? Her thoughts are too muddled, too disjointed.
Slowly, she opens her desk drawer and removes a sheet of creamy white stationary. She stares at the blank page for a few minutes, wondering how she can fit all she needs to say on one sheet of paper, or ten sheets of paper for that matter. Picking up her pen, she delicately cradles it between her thumb and forefinger. Taking a deep breath, she begins the painstaking process of filling up the page.
***
Dear Tristin,
There aren't enough words for me to tell you how sorry I am. My actions were inexcusable, and I will understand if you decide that maybe we are better off apart. I can't explain the reasons why I have been ignoring you these last few months. I never intended to leave things the way I left them and I don't fully understand myself why I allowed them to happen.
Ten months ago, when you presented me with my birthday present, I was not ready to embark on the journey that you had proposed. I loved you then, as I still love you now, but for some reason, as I stood there awed by the power of your emotions, I found myself terrified...terrified that I was incapable of that overwhelming, wholehearted type of love. Instead of being honest with you and telling you my worries and my doubts, I hid them from you. And that is something that I will never forgive myself for.
I fear that you have moved on, that you no longer love me. Though I can't blame you for that, I ask you one question: Would anything change if I said I miss you? I wasn't ready then, but time has changed that. Has time changed you?
All my love,
Rory
***
The unassuming little envelope is tucked among the rest of his mail. He avoids looking at it for all of five seconds before the curiosity overwhelms him. He knows instinctively who it is from. There is just something about it that has Rory Gilmore stamped all over it.
He turns it over and over in his hands. It looks harmless enough. But the right combination of words from her always had the power to bend him to her will. He had never been able to deny her anything, and he isn't anxious to see if that still holds true.
Is there anything she could possibly say that he would be interested in? No, he firmly decides. He tosses it in the trash can and sorts through the rest of his mail.
His eyes wander back to the contents of the trash can of their own will. Maybe it's a nasty letter, in response to the harsh words they had exchanged a few days earlier. If that is the case, what could be the harm in reading the letter? It would only serve to help him get over her. On the other hand, what if it's not a nasty letter, but the opposite? Can he survive being hurt by her again?
He reaches into the trashcan and retrieves the letter. He isn't ready to open it, not yet. But perhaps later...He folds the slightly crumpled paper and sticks it in his shirt pocket.
Long enough! He eagerly reaches into his pocket and tears into the envelope. A wave of nostalgia washes over him at the sight of her familiar handwriting. Her small, precise script is the same as it was four years ago, when it covered his history textbooks and doodled in his calculus notebook.
His shoulders tighten and his jaw clenches when he reads the first few sentences. Does he really want to rehash all this? Just as he had started getting his life back on track, she comes strolling back into it. The question is, will he let her? He plows through the rest of the letter stoically, vowing to read the whole thing before he passes judgement.
Slowly, he refolds the letter and sticks it back in the envelope, only to take it out and read it again. And again. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Is he seeing correctly? She wants him back. She still loves him, even after the way he had treated her at the dinner.
He folds his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair. She had been afraid of him, afraid that she hadn't been capable of loving him fully and completely. She hadn't trusted him enough to surrender her heart. Without trust, can there be love? No. She claims that she is ready now, but if she were to stumble with insecurities later on, would she tell him or leave him again? Though he suspects that he will always love her, he cannot bring himself to devote himself fully to someone who is not willing to take the same risk. Having made up his mind, he takes grim satisfaction in knowing that he is finally finished with that chapter of his life.
***
She receives no response to her letter. She knows that the decision has been made. It is over. At least she knows. Maybe someday she will be able to put it behind her.
11/21
No death threats please! Despite appearances, there is still more to this story. The road to redemption is never easy...
Chapter 11: If I Said I Miss You
She has fallen into a funk. Three days after New York City and she still can't get that five minute conversation out of her head. When she had applied to the study abroad program months ago, she had never taken into consideration that he might not want her back. That he might have moved on. But from the moment she bumped into him to the sight of him turning his back on her that second time, she had felt the distinct, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach warning her that things could never be the same between them again.
She knows in her heart that she did cheat on him, despite the acknowledged break up. The relationship they had shared had gone far deeper than any words that might end it. Their feelings were far too powerful to be flicked off like a light switch; the unspoken understanding between them was that she would take a time out and discover what she wants in life, not date other guys. Maybe if she had discovered that she could fall in love with someone else then the dating might have been understandable. But that had not been the case. She knew she wanted Tristin, that she would never find someone who was more perfect of a match.
It's not as if she had walked away that night plotting to break his heart and make them both miserable. She had fully intended to examine her feelings, to come to some sort of conclusion. But somewhere along the way, something had happened. She realized that she had been terrified, of him, of them, of the future in general. She had looked into his eyes and found herself falling head first into a love so unconditional and pure that it had frightened her. Was she ready to make the same commitment he was declaring to her? Ten months ago, the answer had been no. But today...today the answer had changed.
Too late. Time had changed her, and time had changed him as well. She had let too much time fly by. Time had taunted him, each passing second feeding his fear that she no longer loved him. The confirmation that she was indeed seeing other people had broken him. Why would he question it? She had given him no reason to believe otherwise. Too late.
Even in that five minute conversation, did she give him any sign that she still cared? Every word she had said to him sounded hostile and petulant, even to her own ears. What he must have been thinking, if he still cared by that point...
She can't let things between them end like this. Something in her heart cries out for one last chance to mend the tattered remains of what might have been, what still could be. But how can she even begin to explain what she is thinking? Her thoughts are too muddled, too disjointed.
Slowly, she opens her desk drawer and removes a sheet of creamy white stationary. She stares at the blank page for a few minutes, wondering how she can fit all she needs to say on one sheet of paper, or ten sheets of paper for that matter. Picking up her pen, she delicately cradles it between her thumb and forefinger. Taking a deep breath, she begins the painstaking process of filling up the page.
***
Dear Tristin,
There aren't enough words for me to tell you how sorry I am. My actions were inexcusable, and I will understand if you decide that maybe we are better off apart. I can't explain the reasons why I have been ignoring you these last few months. I never intended to leave things the way I left them and I don't fully understand myself why I allowed them to happen.
Ten months ago, when you presented me with my birthday present, I was not ready to embark on the journey that you had proposed. I loved you then, as I still love you now, but for some reason, as I stood there awed by the power of your emotions, I found myself terrified...terrified that I was incapable of that overwhelming, wholehearted type of love. Instead of being honest with you and telling you my worries and my doubts, I hid them from you. And that is something that I will never forgive myself for.
I fear that you have moved on, that you no longer love me. Though I can't blame you for that, I ask you one question: Would anything change if I said I miss you? I wasn't ready then, but time has changed that. Has time changed you?
All my love,
Rory
***
The unassuming little envelope is tucked among the rest of his mail. He avoids looking at it for all of five seconds before the curiosity overwhelms him. He knows instinctively who it is from. There is just something about it that has Rory Gilmore stamped all over it.
He turns it over and over in his hands. It looks harmless enough. But the right combination of words from her always had the power to bend him to her will. He had never been able to deny her anything, and he isn't anxious to see if that still holds true.
Is there anything she could possibly say that he would be interested in? No, he firmly decides. He tosses it in the trash can and sorts through the rest of his mail.
His eyes wander back to the contents of the trash can of their own will. Maybe it's a nasty letter, in response to the harsh words they had exchanged a few days earlier. If that is the case, what could be the harm in reading the letter? It would only serve to help him get over her. On the other hand, what if it's not a nasty letter, but the opposite? Can he survive being hurt by her again?
He reaches into the trashcan and retrieves the letter. He isn't ready to open it, not yet. But perhaps later...He folds the slightly crumpled paper and sticks it in his shirt pocket.
Long enough! He eagerly reaches into his pocket and tears into the envelope. A wave of nostalgia washes over him at the sight of her familiar handwriting. Her small, precise script is the same as it was four years ago, when it covered his history textbooks and doodled in his calculus notebook.
His shoulders tighten and his jaw clenches when he reads the first few sentences. Does he really want to rehash all this? Just as he had started getting his life back on track, she comes strolling back into it. The question is, will he let her? He plows through the rest of the letter stoically, vowing to read the whole thing before he passes judgement.
Slowly, he refolds the letter and sticks it back in the envelope, only to take it out and read it again. And again. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Is he seeing correctly? She wants him back. She still loves him, even after the way he had treated her at the dinner.
He folds his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair. She had been afraid of him, afraid that she hadn't been capable of loving him fully and completely. She hadn't trusted him enough to surrender her heart. Without trust, can there be love? No. She claims that she is ready now, but if she were to stumble with insecurities later on, would she tell him or leave him again? Though he suspects that he will always love her, he cannot bring himself to devote himself fully to someone who is not willing to take the same risk. Having made up his mind, he takes grim satisfaction in knowing that he is finally finished with that chapter of his life.
***
She receives no response to her letter. She knows that the decision has been made. It is over. At least she knows. Maybe someday she will be able to put it behind her.
11/21
No death threats please! Despite appearances, there is still more to this story. The road to redemption is never easy...