November 10, 1991

My dearest M,

There are so many things I’ve been wanting to say to you. I’ve been trying to write this letter since the night I last left you, after we fought. And every time I try and write it, I rip it up or burn it. Then I start over, but I can never seem to get my words right. You’re the writer. Not me.

So now I’m just going to try and tell you the truth in a few, spare words. Maybe I’ll never mail this letter anyway. (I don’t even know where you live anymore?) So I’m taking a deep breath as I write this. Here goes.

For one thing, our fight. I promise you, I turned off the stove. I don’t know why the gas was leaking, but I remember going back into the kitchen and turning off the burner after I hit George over the head with the lamp.

For another thing, George was still breathing after I hit him. I didn’t even hit him that hard. I only stunned him, and then he was passed out drunk when you walked into the room and saw him lying on the floor.

And this is the most important—it was Annie who saved Will. They were hiding in the pantry, and I was tearing through the house and couldn’t find them. I finally found her dragging him out on her back when he wouldn’t wake up. I want you to know at least this much about my girl: My Annie, her heart shines like a star, just like I always told you. Just like the song. Annie saved Will’s life.

I know you blame me, you think everything was all my fault. And maybe I deserve the blame, in that me being there, being around you, made George crazy, made him drink too much that night. I could’ve left before things went that far. Maybe I should’ve left. But I was too happy being with you. I was selfish.

And yes, I did introduce you to him, back in college. You were right—that much was my fault. I didn’t know then what I know now, of course. I thought he was a nice guy, if a little boring. And if I’m really telling you the whole truth, that’s why I introduced you to begin with. Because—and this is the hardest part to explain—you were always a diamond, M. And George was just the plainest of rocks. I thought we could all have a little fun, go on a few double dates before you’d grow tired of him. But I never truly wanted you to be with George. I wanted you to be with me.

I tried to tell you how I felt so many times, M. And I know you didn’t or (didn’t want to?) or couldn’t understand what I was trying to say. Or maybe I never said it the right way. Maybe I was never clear enough. It’s easier to write it down, like this, knowing you’ll likely never read this. But here is the whole entire truth, I swear to you on Annie’s life: I never loved Max. I never loved Gaitlin. I love you, M. It was always you.

I told this to Max once, the last night I spent with him in Seattle, and then swore him to secrecy. He got upset, feeling like I’d lied to him, and he was right, I did. Maybe he had a right to be upset. He and I never spoke again after that night. And part of me thinks he told you what I said despite the promise he made to me. Maybe you’ve known this all along. But part of me thinks he didn’t. Because I know he loved you too. And as messed up as it sounds, the fact that I knew he loved you so much is why I stayed with him so long to begin with. Being with Max felt weirdly like the next best thing to being with you.

I realize as I get to the end of this, that I probably will never send you this letter. But even if we never speak again, I truly hope you’re happy wherever you are. I will always hold you in my heart.

With all my love,

B