2020 NY – APARTMENT
It's a funny feeling. Arriving home, where everything is familiar and as it should be, when I myself, feel completely different. I leave my luggage by the door and head to the small office at the end of the hall.
"I see you made it home," Chris says, lifelessly, without looking up from his computer.
I hover in the doorway, listening to the tick of his computer keys, before I answer, "I did." After a few quiet moments, he glances up.
"Sidney, what the hell happened?" He asked, noticing the cut on my lip.
I lean against the doorframe with a sigh, "You know how crazy LAX can get."
His brows pull together in question, and then he shakes his head. "Sidney, listen. It's going to take some time. For me at least. But I do love you, and I want to work through this."
I lower my head, feeling the warmth of fresh tears. "Chris. I can't. I'm so sorry."
He's silent for a few seconds. "You chose him."
"Yeah, I did. But –he wasn't mine to choose." I walk into the office and sit down at my desk, turning the chair to face him. "You and I, -it has nothing to do with him. I just, realized some things, while I was gone."
Chris looks away, seemingly in thought. "Like what, Sidney? We've been together for years. What things, have you all the sudden, realized?" I hear the frustration rising in his voice.
"You deserve better than me, for one." I shrug. "I mean, look what I've done, Chris," I sit back and sigh. "We don't ever fight. Ever."
"So?"
"I want to fight!" I say, standing up. "I know it sounds crazy but I want to fight."
Chris shakes his head, laughing under his breath, "Yeah, you're right, Sidney. It sounds crazy."
I begin to pace, "You're amazing. You really are. Any girl, would be lucky to be with you. I mean that. But –I'm just…I don't know, fucked up or something. I want to fight, I don't want it to be easy. I want to wonder, sometimes what you're thinking, instead of it being… -simple."
Chris watches me for a moment, before he speaks. "I think you mean, boring."
He stands up, leaving without another word.
A few days later, I look around the half empty apartment, ready to fill in the blank spots where Chris' things once sat. I decide to move my desk into the living room. I always wanted it there anyway, but there wasn't room. I walk into the office. Every surface is cluttered with things, from where Chris dug his stuff, out of the closet, and left my things out. Among the clutter, I find the 1920's Underwood Typewriter.
"Hey there, beautiful," I smile, running my fingers across the gold strikers.
After I get my desk set up in the living room, I place the typewriter, front and center. I sit down, running my fingers across the keys.
Bo,
I don't know if I'll actually give you this letter….
After that day, I attempted to resume life as normal. Well, at least a new normal. I got back to work, writing better than ever, in my opinion. Something about hiding away from your own mind, really allows you to explore the space of minds being created.
A few months later, my heartbreaking reality was confirmed. Coming to me, in the form of a text. A group message, I forgot I was in, with the writers at Pratt Studios.
The text read: You guys think, now that Elle's engaged, she'll stop being such a cunt?
My immediate thought was, No. She won't. But my heart might stop beating.
2021 – DANVERS, MA
After having two children together, Morgan and Paul are finally getting married. It's going to be a fairly small occasion, and a reception in the backyard at moms house. Apart from when I lost dad, this is probably the most reluctant I've ever been, returning to Danvers.
I mean, for the wickedly broken hearted, what could be more fun than watching two people commit for life among the boneyard of your lost love? I glance down at the folded sheet of paper sticking out of my carry on. The letter I typed to Bo.
Besides witnessing my sister tie the knot, my main mission, is to leave the letter in the Pool house. Maybe he'll find it one day, maybe he won't. But either way, it'll be where it belongs. In the place it all started.
I finally arrive at the house in the late evening. In the distance I see Scott and Pete in our backyard, sinking huge wooden poles to string lights for the reception the next evening. It tugs at me. It's so sweet of them to help mom. Because dad can't. I give my round of hugs to the collective family, and head upstairs. I'm always so exhausted after traveling and frankly, I just want to get this trip over with.
As I drift off, I lower the walls around my heart, just enough to remember what it felt like, laying in this very bed, with Bo's head, tucked against the back of my neck.
The morning time rush was a total blur. By the time we got seated at the church and began to relax, the ceremony was over. So, much to my relief, the day has flown by, and now, I find myself sitting at an elegantly decorated, reception table, in my own backyard. Dinner has been served, the cake has been cut, the toasts have been toasted. My mood is lifting by the minute, because I know it won't be long before I can go to bed, and flee back to New York tomorrow. I watch the reception crowd, swaying to the music under the insanely gorgeous strands of lights, strung into a canopy over a vast majority of the backyard.
I glance over my shoulder at the Pool House, not too far away, and I decide it's time. I go in the house, heading upstairs and grab the letter out of my carry on. As I cross the lawn, A gentle breeze of oncoming spring, whispers across the grass, sending sheer lilac fabric, dancing around my legs. Approaching the pool house, I can't help but to smile. With all the pretty lights, our little empire is looking particularly elegant tonight. I open the French doors, go inside, and flip on the light. I look around the empty room, filled with the ghost of memories. I walk over to the couch, and open the letter, to look over it one more time before I leave it behind.
Bo,
I don't know if I'll actually give you this letter, but I just had a thought occur to me. We're turning thirty this year. Can you believe it? I don't mean to say that to strike up depression. It just came to me now, when I was thinking of how long I've known you. 17 years, Bo. 17 years. How did it go by so quickly? I guess it's the memories that don't fade with time. Those are the ones that make life feel like it's moving so quickly. Seems like it wasn't so long ago, we were middle schoolers, writing songs about whatever the hell would piss off our parents.
You still kind of do that.
Either way, I've come to the realization, that our story has come to an end. I'm not sure when I'll be able to accept that, but I'll work on it.
My point, is that I never thanked you. So, here it goes.
Thank you. For the hardest laughs in my life and for the deepest feelings I've ever felt. Thank you for the good talks and the even better fights. Thank you for giving me the confidence that anything I wanted to be in life, was obtainable without question.
But most of all… Thank you for loving me, when you did. And thank you for teaching me, what love is supposed to feel like.
I don't know if I'll ever fall in love like this again. How often does lightning strike twice? But either way, I'm just happy knowing it struck at all.
I love you.
Even when I beg my heart not to.
I always will.
-Sid
I fold it back up and lay it on the couch. I head back to the door, turning to look, one more time around the room, before I turn out the lights, and head out into the wash of music and dancing.
"Beautiful night, isn't it, Sid?" Bo stands there, under the lights. Head tilted with a grin. Hands casually tucked into his black, suit pockets. My breath leaves my body and I just stand here, staring at him. After a few seconds I decide to play it cool.
"You're a little late aren't you?" I say nodding towards the reception.
"Better late, then never," he muses.
I smile, rolling my eyes. "Well, glad you could make it," I say, starting past him, back to the reception.
He grabs my hand, lifts his arm and spins me. Sliding his other hand around my waist, he pulls me in, swaying lightly.
"You just crash weddings and slow dance now?" I ask, looking up at him.
He smiles down at me, "Just shaking some shit up, Sidney."
There's a few quiet moments as we, slowly sway under the lights, listening to the music in the air.
"You kept the hair. Good." I say, after watching it toss a little in the light breeze. He looks a lot more polished and manicured than at the Guest House. But the smooth, length is still there.
"I decided to look feral for my thirties," he laughs, gently. I watch him closely, his whole demeanor is genuinely, light and playful. I haven't seen him like this in a very long time.
"You seem happy," I say, feeling guilty because it shouldn't make me hurt. "Congrats on the engagement, by the way."
His smile fades, "Sidney," he says, looking away from me, gazing off over my shoulder, "I'm sorry, I really am. And I'm sorry you went through all of that, with Elle."
There was a stretch of silence and I shrug. "I am too."
His eyes, thoughtfully sweep over my face, "You know, I told her for so long I didn't really believe in the whole marriage thing." His arms fall away from me and our dancing sway comes to an end. "Elle has her own ring. But -during some spring cleaning," he said, reaching into his coat pocket, pulling out a blue ring box "-she found this one." He opens the box, revealing the square cut diamond ring. "-The same one you found," he explains. He pulls the ring out and slips the box back into his pocket. "This ring, right here. This is the reason we argued. This is the whole reason she left for Maine, to begin with."
He holds it out to me, "Take a look."
"I've seen it, Bo. Trust me."
He rolls his eyes. "Don't be so damn stubborn, Sid." He grabs my hand, and drops the ring into my palm. "Look. Closer."
I sigh, looking down at the stone, sparkling under the lights strung above us. I nod. "It's a beautiful ring," I say. I'm about to hand it back to him, when something catches my eye. An inscription on the inside of the band. I look at it closer.
"It's not her ring, Sidney."
I look up at him, through a blur of tears. His eyes are no longer peaceful and happy. They're heavy with sadness, apology, and a thousand, heavy, thoughts. I look back down at the inscription that reads:
- Let's fly forever, Sid. –
I look him, feeling tears break from eyes. "I don't understand."
He drags his fingers through his hair, tucking his hands back into his pockets.
"Sidney, I bought that ring ten years ago. Not long after that New Years Eve, you spent with me in L.A. –That morning, before you left, you said bye to me from the doorway. I pretended to be asleep. Because I couldn't stand the idea of saying goodbye to you. Again." His eyes begin to shine with tears, and he lowers his gaze to the ground, laughing under his breath. "It's funny," he nods, raising his eyes back to me. "That night, I promised no strings –and the next morning I decided I wanted to marry you."
I covered my mouth, to catch the sobs.
"I was about to start the second half of my tour. And I thought –fuck it. When I finish it, I'll quit. Go get my girl." He looks up towards the lights above us. "So, I got that ring, and I, uh –headed to Stanford. And, I met Ian. You seemed happy. I didn't want to get in the way."
I shook my head, looking back down at the ring. Realizing that's the night he showed up and wanted to talk to me about something. If he had only known, I would have thrown Ian to the wolves, just to say yes, right there on the spot.
"Then, I got desperate, so I flew home that Christmas. Wound up pushing your boyfriend into a fireplace and losing you in the process," He shakes his head with a shrug. "I just never really found my moment. Thought, well? Maybe there's a reason for that. Between the universe and me, I never stood a chance, anyway." He moves in closer to me, as I watch him through streaming of tears. He reaches out, running his thumb across my cheekbone. "And then life happened," he said. He reaches up brushing tears from his eyes. "I was wrong, Sidney. When I said we weren't friends. You're my best friend. You'll always be my best friend."
I nod, handing him the ring, and I walk back into the pool house. I lean against the counter, trying my best to get ahold of myself. But I'm fucking shattered. More than I was shattered before. Because, he was so close to being mine, a long time ago. And the love of my life, just gave me the 'we'll always be friends' speech. I hear him come in behind me and I sniff back tears and try to regain my composure.
"You left something in L.A, by the way," he said, casually breezing by me, and into the kitchen. He reaches up into the cabinet and pulls out Red and Wembley. The two, horribly grotesque, Fraggle mugs, sitting them on the counter. Even in full devastation mode, I still can't help but to laugh, right past the tears.
He turns and leans, disappearing out of my view behind the counter. I hear him moving something around. I lean up on my tip toes and realize he's digging through the mini fridge. Back in its original spot from years ago. I didn't make it past the counter earlier, so I had no idea it was in here.
"You have to understand something, Sid," He says, re-appearing and placing a bottle of champaign on the counter. He pushes his thumbs under the cork, sending it popping into the ceiling. "I'm not sorry for being engaged to, Elle." He pours a little bit of champaign into each Fraggle and sets the bottle to the side.
His words sting. They feel cruel. "Um, you don't have to be, so. Okay," I say turning away from the counter.
"Good. Because I'm not engaged to her."
I turn back," What?"
He grins, "I never was. I broke it off with her, before you probably even reached your car. But, she is a prideful bitch. She was determined to marry somebody so, I guess she found her person, or whatever," he said, shrugging. He walks around the counter, and up to me. "So, I finished filming the show. It goes south, halfway through, just a forewarning. I was not in a good place. But, then I found out you and Chris ended things. And I decided, -fuck it. She's my best friend, and that only adds to the fact, that I'm out of my fucking mind, in-love with you, Sid." He moves in closer, only inches from me, look into my eyes, in a way I've never seen. "I'll beg, I'll plead, I'll follow you, all over this earth. I'll beat up every guy who likes you, -because I love you," His eyes are suddenly crowded with tears. He opens his shaky hand, revealing the ring in his palm. "I'm honestly really hoping, that maybe –I just found my moment."
I press my hands into my mouth. I can't believe this is actually happening. I look up, at my best friend, the love of my life. Seeing him from fourteen to thirty. All in one.
"Marry me, Sid."
"I'd marry you ten years ago," I cry.
Before I finish the sentence, he slides his arms around my waist, kissing me, like were making up for a decade. I understand the peace now. The happiness, I saw in him earlier.
After he slides the ring on my finger, he hands me Red, and picks up Wembley.
"Here's to shaking some shit up," I say, raising Red.
"And to never fading away," he says, raising Wembley."