by Megan Rivers
His eyes pleaded now. “Please believe me, it's better just to be friends. For me. Please?”
I nodded, holding myself up because I wanted nothing more than to collapse on my couch and cry. I wanted to mourn for what we could have had. After he watched me walk in the door of my building, I walked up the stairs to my front door and fell onto the couch, still an emotional mess.
XVII.
Letter of Fighting Decision
“It Will Rain” – Bruno Mars
We tried to keep up our friendship, but it was strained by the words that tarnished it. I hoped that planning something special for his birthday would help mend things. So on February 28th I met him at his apartment after I got off work. I was trying really hard to erase the strain that wedged itself between us, so I wore a black dress to work instead of my usual skirt and blouse, and showed up on his doorstep with a wide smile on my face.
“Happy birthday!” I greeted, with simple birthday card in my hands.
He opened the door in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt. “Oh, thanks,” he said. “Should I open it now?”
“No, it's just something small. Besides, we'll be late!” I tried too hard to sound enthusiastic.
He turned and went to place the envelope on a table nearby as I walked inside. “Is this okay?” he asked pointing to his outfit. He didn't know where we were going and I gave him a vague dress code. “I'm not sure what you meant by 'dress like you'll be going back in time'.”
I smiled. “Yeah, you're fine.”
As we walked down the street, awkwardness became a heavy coat we carried on our shoulders, a barrier from our usual conversations. We asked each other questions with short answers to fill in the time, but we both felt the long term effects of our New Year's conversation.
The trip didn't take too long and our awkward conversation was cut short when we arrived at the theatre. There was a sign out front advertising the attraction we were there so see: a Rat Pack impersonation show. Galvin always idolized Dean Martin and since he never got to see him live, I thought it was the next best thing.
“No!” he exclaimed. “This is awesome!” His face lit up and he radiated excitement. Just what I had hoped! He could barely contain enough patience to pick up tickets, walk through the crowd, and find our seats.
As we waited for the show to start, Galvin's leg jiggled up and down in anticipation. I smirked at my cleverness. “This is brilliant,” he said. “Best birthday present ever. I can't believe it!”
Throughout the performance his eyes were on the stage and a smile danced on his lips. He relaxed for the first time since that night. I watched him as he laughed at the comedy routines and I caught him lip synched to a few songs. Sitting next to him felt normal again and we were at ease. This would fix things, I was sure of it.
For a week or so, our relationship seemed to be back to normal where he'd meet me after work for a walk, we'd send each other text messages, and we'd have our ritual Pizza Fridays. Then, without warning, we seemed to spend less and less time together. At first it wasn't noticeable, but when he cancelled our pizza night, I began to notice that, much like the full moon transitioning to a new moon, he was slowly disappearing from my life.
When April popped up on the calendar, Galvin made plans to fly to California for Phoenix's eighth birthday. I hadn't seen him in about nine days when I got his text message. I was busy with paper work to start some of my graduate degree classes in the summer, so I shrugged his negligence off as conflicting busy schedules.
A few days after Phoenix's birthday, however, I hadn't heard from Galvin and I wondered if he had come back into town. Secretly, I hoped he'd be back in time for a Pizza Friday. I found a copy of “The Princess Bride” in the five dollar bin at Walmart and wanted to save it for our next comedy... and I missed talking to him.
A handful of days passed with unanswered text messages and unreturned phone calls. I was getting worried and about to call Trey to make sure Galvin even made it to California, when a UPS delivery arrived at my door one Saturday morning. The man in the brown uniform had me exchange my signature for the envelope. I sat on the couch and opened it. Inside was a smaller envelope filled with lined notebook paper. It was covered in his long slanted writing.
April 20, 2013
Christie,
I love you.
Please don't think I feel anything less than that. I have always loved you and I will always love you.
But I can't do this. I just—I can't.
I will hurt you. It's bound to happen... and you don't deserve that. I can't bear to do that to you again. Each day I see how your face lights up, how much you want me in your life, and I can't do it. I'm not as strong as you.
Many years ago you once told me that you had nothing in the world anymore except for me, and it made me so damn sure I had you forever. I took advantage of that. How could I go through life and not hurt you like that again? I'm a huge mess on the inside, Christie. It wouldn't be fair—it wouldn't be right to bring you into that.
So, I'm doing the only thing I can think to save you from me. I'm leaving New York. It's an awful thing to have to tell you in a letter, but I cannot bear the look you'd give me if I told you in person. You would talk me out of it and we'd continue with an awkward friendship.
You probably don't think so, but please believe that this is the best solution.
I'm so terribly sorry that it has to be this way. This is the only way I can protect you from being hurt again.
Please believe me when I say I love you. Always. Nothing will ever change that.
Love,
Galvin
I read the letter five times, then stared at it for ten minutes before reading it three more times. It just wouldn't sink in. Instead of being mad, angry, upset, or sad, I was confused, dumbfounded even. Before I knew what I was doing, my fingers were on my cell phone, calling the person I trusted the most: Meadow.
“Frister! What's up?” she asked in her energetic, bouncy tone. Music was filling the background.
“Are you busy?” I asked.
“Nope, just doing laundry and dancing around to Mr. A-Z. Whatcha need?”
I pictured her folding one of her ridiculously bright t-shirts she wore as pajamas with the phone balancing between her shoulder and chin. “Advice.”
“Shoot!”
“You might want to get some Oreos...” I trailed off, hoping she took the hint.
“That bad?” she asked. I noticed that she muted the music and when I didn't answer she responded, “Okay. I'm ready, hit me.”
Up until that moment I kept my New Year's Eve outburst from any of our conversations and played off my life as nothing but normal. Now I spilled everything, ending with Galvin's letter, reading it aloud twice, upon Meadow's request.
“What do I do?” I asked. I did not cry and I was surprised by that. My chest ached, but deep down I knew not all was lost. I had to keep it together in order to fix it.
“Well,” Meadow said, starting out slowly, “what do you want?”
“Him.” The answer was simple.
I pictured her smooshing her lips to one side of her face as she thought about it. “As what?”
“I love him, Meadow. I know he's not your favorite person right now, but he... I...” What was it I was trying to say? “He's gone and it doesn't feel right.”
“You're sure? So soon after Antony? Are you sure he's not just a rebound? It's not a mistake?”
These were points I often thought about and debated. I shook my head, though she couldn't see it. “Somehow I found the old us. Deep beneath the layers of dust and time I found that link that threads us together. It feels right, Meadow. We chipped away at all those things that hurt us in the past and became stronger. Being with him I feel put together, like a completed puzzle.
“A few weeks ago we were walking down the street and I thought to myself how content I'd be if I got to walk next to him everyday. Him and me, together. Like salt and pepper and pea
nut butter and jelly. I want something more with him. I want to try a relationship with him again.
“I'm not saying I want to run off and marry him, but I want a chance to finish what we started. I already love him. We already have a history. I'm not going into this like a love-sick puppy. And it's not that I couldn't live without Galvin. I can. I did. This time, though, I'm making the choice not to. I know there will be difficult times ahead, but I'm so sure about our foundation. I just want that chance.”
It took a few moments before Meadow responded. I heard her munching on an Oreo and I wished I had a stack of them next to me. Finally, she said, “You sure you're strong enough? It's going to be bumpy road if this is the road you want to take. I support whatever you do, but I'm just warning you. It's never been easy for you, being his girlfriend.”
“Galvin used to say he'd do anything for me.” Even if that meant leaving me for my own good, I realized. “It's about time I fight for what I want. This is what I want.”
“Then go get him.” She said it matter-of-factly like it was a no-brainer answer.
“Go get him?” I asked, still not quite clear on what that precisely meant.
“Go get him,” she repeated. “He's gotta be in L.A.--check the return address.” Sure enough, it was Trey's return address. If nothing else, he'd know where Galvin would be.
“Just get on a plane and get him?” I asked, clarifying.
“Fight for him,” she stated.
Her words echoed in my head. Fight for him.
So I did.
I tore out of my sweats and threw on a pair of jeans and a blouse. Hastily, I threw my wallet, phone, and charger into the sea of junk in my purse. Grabbing my jacket, I was out the front door minutes after hanging up with Meadow.
Not once did I think “What am I doing?” or “This is crazy!” I walked down the street purposefully and got on the train to the airport dedicated to this mission. My head was clear, not foggy with uncertainty. There was a rush of adrenaline, but my leg did not shake up and down anxiously as I rode the train. I was going to give our relationship a fighting chance.
Several hours later, when I walked out of LAX, I knew full well I could have taken a cab straight to Meadow's to think about this more, but I didn't need that. Decisively, I gave the cab driver the address. The whole ride, as I sat on the leather backseat, staring at the ID card of my driver, I didn't have second thoughts. I didn't even practice what I wanted to say. I only kept picturing what it'd be like to see him again, to be in the same room again.
When the taxi pulled along the curb of the house, I didn't hesitate to get out, though my heart started to beat faster. The sun was low in the sky and soon it would set. My eyes focused on the red front door as I walked up the sidewalk. The big droopy eyes of the Alice in Wonderland front door knocker held mine. The eyebrows were etched high above the eyes as if to ask, “You sure you want to do this?”
Yes. Yes, I do.
Leah was the one to come to the door. Surprise painted her face and then melted away with realization. Before I could say anything she smiled then called into the house behind her. “Who wants to go to the park?”
She motioned me inside, giving me a small hug. Children yelled affirmations about going to the park and the pitter-patter of tiny feet filled the hallway. “Wait here,” she whispered. “Phoenix won't leave if he sees you.” Leah walked further down the hallway and bumped into a pink tutu-clad Lexi. “Go get your shoes!” she encouraged as Lexi turned around and ran deeper into the house.
There was a large mirror on the foyer wall, framed in gold with celestial etchings carved into the painted wood. I avoided looking at my reflection, thinking that I would see someone who didn't deserve a chance to be happy. The person I saw in my mind's eye was level-headed, confident, and certain. I held onto that image.
“Last one to the garage is a rotten egg!” I heard Phoenix taunt.
I heard a heavy door slam and silence settled around the house like dust. My gym shoes squeaked slightly on the polished wooden floor as I made my way further into the house. The kitchen had a few plates at the counter with half eaten chicken nuggets in puddles of ketchup. The living room had children's toys scattered on the floor and a few children's books lying on the furniture.
The patio door was ajar and I heard a few stray notes of the acoustic guitar travel through. Quietly, I pushed the door open and stepped onto the patio. Galvin was sitting on the patio couch to the left. He was in blue board shorts and a white long-sleeve shirt. He was on the edge of his seat, a guitar in his hands and his eyes hovered over an open notebook on the table in front of him. His hair was damp, whether from a swim or a shower I wasn't sure. He hadn't cut it in a while and some sodden strands fell over his forehead and danced just below his eyebrows. He shook his head to the side to move them without letting go of the guitar strings. That's when he noticed me.
“Christie?” He looked surprised and a bit scared. He slid the guitar off his lap warily.
“You're playing again? When did that happen?” I asked, a small smile curling the corner of my lips. It was like a small sign of hope.
“Yeah,” he said looking down, placing the instrument in its case. Without looking at me, he stood up and admitted, “I haven't been able to stop since New Years.”
Being able to see him like that, hunched over his guitar, made me relax. I hadn't realized that my chest was tense with not knowing what I was walking into, but now the tension disappeared.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking a step forward, leaving his music behind him.
I slipped the purse off my shoulder and put it on the patio chair in front of me. “I wanted to respond to your letter, but I couldn't find a pen.” I hoped a little humor would lighten the conversation.
Galvin lifted an eyebrow, not laughing. His face started to transform into the mask that built walls between himself and the world. He clearly did not want to talk about it.
“Honestly,” I started, “I'm here to fight.” I said it matter-of-factly, without hesitation or quivering in my voice. “Because some things in life are worth fighting for. So I'm here to fight for you.”
Galvin scratched the back of his neck, clearly uneasy. The solar lights in the backyard began to grow brighter as the sun set deeper into the sky. Shadows began to come out of hiding and lurked in corners, waiting to pounce.
I side-stepped the chair and stood in front of it so nothing was between Galvin and me except six feet of empty California air. “Look, I understand why you wrote the letter. I get it. But I have feelings for you and you have feelings for me. Why shouldn't I fight for a chance?”
He licked his lips, his eyes traveling across every surface but mine. I knew he was struggling to find the words so I just stood there, giving him the time he needed. “Why should we take the chance?” he asked. “Why should we take something good and ruin it? Why can't we just leave it alone, without hurting it?”
My eyebrows knitted together. “Because that's not living, Galvin. Life is for the living and that means getting hurt. You can't live life in a bubble and expect to be happy. The hardest things are the things worth doing.” He looked at me briefly, meeting my gaze, so I continued. “It's going to be hard. We will get hurt.” I bit my bottom lip and dragged it under my teeth before I spoke again. “As long as we help each other get up and brush off the dirt, then it doesn't matter. It will only make us stronger. Hell, Galvin, we've been through more crap than most relationships already.” I tried to catch his gaze, but his eyes traveled back and forth across the ground.
He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to communicate. “I don't deserve you,” he said.
I lifted my eyebrows at this. “Says the selfless man who put his life on hold and moved across the country to help his ex-girlfriend get through the death of her fiance for the past twenty months.”
He sighed at the point I was making. “You'll get hurt—”
“Good. It will make me stronger,” I said firmly, th
en softened my voice to continue. “I've been hurt before. I'll be hurt again. I've lost my fiance, my mother, my father, you.” I counted each reason on my fingers. “I've been homeless, jobless, penniless and parentless. I think I have pretty tough armor going into this battle.”
Galvin shifted his weight and looked at my shoulders when he spoke. “I don't want you to regret it later. I don't want you to end up hating me.”
This time I sighed, but not out of annoyance. It was out of love; the type of love he had no idea I had for him. “I'm not saying we get married or that it will be forever, Galvin. It's one day at a time. You have demons and so do I. If I didn't come here to fight for you, that would be a regret.”
With a few steps I shorted the space between us. I looked up at him so he would see what I was feeling conveyed in my eyes. “You can't live each day scared of hurting me, or scared that you'll screw up, or scared that one day I'll wake up hating you. We can only control our own actions. As long as we live each day knowing we did the best we could for us, then it won't hurt as much.
Torment creased his brow. “But—” he started, and I cut him off.
“Galvin, I am standing here in front of you, after spontaneously traveling 3,000 miles, asking for you to take a chance on us. That's got to say more than words.” I searched his eyes for a hint of emotion. “Only say no if you don't love me and you don't see us together. Ever. But please, don't say no to spare my feelings in an uncertain future. For all you know, we could be happy. Don't throw away that possibility out of fear. Please don't do that to me.”
Night had fallen by now. The lights from the kitchen drenched the patio. Flies hovered around the security lights and crickets serenaded from the far corners of the backyard. Slowly, the wall Galvin built began to crumble.
“You know I love you,” he said, his eyes soft. “From the moment I saw you I loved you. I've seen you at your worst. And even in times of weakness you were still stronger than I could ever imagine being. I've seen you suffer through losing the people you love. I've seen you stuff two slices of pizza in your mouth in one bite and on Sunday mornings I've seen you with crazy hair and in old frayed sweats. I've seen you at your most stubborn, sleep-deprived, and irritable and I once saw you trip over flat ground.” I smiled at his description. “But all those imperfections made me love you even more.” He took a deep breath and there was pain in his eyes. “You haven't seen me at my worst. “