by Sarah Cole
“Girl, I know what happened to you and Abby was beyond shitty. My heart hurts too, and it hurts for you even more, but somewhere deep in my gut I feel like there is more to this than we know. Don’t dismiss something wonderful because of a mistake. Especially one that will follow him forever.”
“I just feel so… I dunno, betrayed? I don’t even know if that is a good word for it. He knew my situation, knew how my life got so broken, but didn’t care to find a way to tell me that he was guilty of the same crime that destroyed everything in my life?” I croak.
“Charlie, I know you think you hide it well, but believe me when I tell you that I know you are still holding in all that rage and hurt. I feel it, Jay feels it. I hear your nightmares. I know Andrew helped you forget about your problems, but he didn’t make them disappear. Only you can do that.” Laney says, her fingers stroking though my hair.
I hate admitting it, but I know she is right. Andrew brought the fractured pieces of me back together, and made my world whole and happy. However, I can’t rely on him to be the glue that holds everything together. That’s entirely on me. It is in these few minutes of thought that I realize, I know Andrew. I know him with every cell in my body, and I know he isn’t a cruel, careless, ill-tempered man. He is kind, genuine, and loving.
I know I am not angry with him for his mistakes, I am just angry at the world in general. I don’t want to admit that yet, though. It is easier to blame someone else than to look internally and fix the root cause of this pain. This was just the catalyst that brought reality crashing down and crushed this lie I’ve been letting myself live in. I’m not coping, I’m pretending. I know I need to let Andrew explain the situation, and I know I will forgive him eventually because I know deep down in my heart that he is my other half, but the other thing I am one hundred percent certain about, is I need to make sure my half is solid before I can commit myself to a future with him. It isn’t fair to me or him if I am nothing but a fragile façade filled with anger and darkness.
“You talked to someone months ago, but maybe you should again. You need to find a way to forgive Charlie because that bitterness will eat you alive if you let it.” Laney says breaking the silence.
“I think you are right, Lane…I’m just not sure I know where to begin.” I cry.
“Why don’t you start with that stack of letters from the Cook County correctional facility that you have hiding underneath that sofa cushion?” she suggests, motioning to the cushion to our left. How she found those, I have no idea, but I am willing to bet it has to do with her stress cleaning habit.
It has been two days, and Andrew has tried calling, texting and every other possible form of communication. I have walled myself off in my room, wallowing in self-pity and old photo albums of Abby and I. I’m beginning to realize that I never really got to truly grieve Abby. I feel her absence every single moment, of every day, but I never got to mourn her loss or say my good-byes. I was too busy fighting for my own life during that time, trying to survive the best way I knew how.
Laney and Jay have tried repeatedly to get me out of the house, to eat, to shower, and I can’t. Because not only am I finally grieving Abby’s loss, I’m grieving the loss of Andrew. I think I have royally screwed things up, but once again I’m trying to avoid the reality of the situation. Yeah, I’m a hypocrite, and I realize that, but I’m not sure how much I am capable of dealing with all at once.
Sitting cross legged on my bed, I stare at the stack of unopened envelopes before me. It seems like I’ve been staring them down for hours. I probably have. With shaking fingers, I hesitantly reach for the first unopened envelope, fingers searching for the seal. I take a deep breath. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. Unfolding the hand-written letter, I begin to read.
Dear Ms. Adams,
I hope this finds you well. I understand that you may never respond to this correspondence or even read what these letters have to say, and that is OK. I’m not sure if I am writing this for you, or more for me, but I feel there are things that need to be said. First, let me begin by conveying my deepest apologies. I know that can never be enough, and believe me, I truly do understand that. I recently lost my family, and the irony is not lost on me. However, no amount of condolences can bring them back to me. It was never my intent that night for anyone to get hurt or lose their lives. I am not even quite sure how my life managed to spiral that far out of control in such a short time. My actions and the consequences are something that I can never take back or undo, no matter how hard I wish. I will forever regret that and I will shoulder that guilt until my last breath. Second, I know that this kind of letter is far from typical, and usually only sent out of respect and with an agenda in mind. Let me assure you, that is not my intent here. I will serve out my sentence, and never accept less, unless I am forced to, even then I will live in my self-imposed prison for the crimes I have committed. I genuinely just wanted to apologize; not only for the loss of your loved one and your severe injuries, but also for the pain that you now carry with you wherever you go. I’m not searching for forgiveness; I don’t want it. Feel free to respond with any questions you may have. I will try and answer them honestly, and to the best of my ability. I know if I were in your shoes, I would want to know the “why’s “and every single detail surrounding the accident.
Sincerely,
Samuel H. Forrester
I sit here in stunned silence as my wet tears splash the handwritten words, blurring the ink on the page. My heart breaks for myself, and for this man. I reach for the next letter, and the next, and the one after that. They are more of the same, never asking for forgiveness, but only sharing fragments of the pain that is also plaguing him. I never responded, but that didn’t stop Samuel Forrester from trying to share as many details as he could.
Apparently the week before our accident, he had buried his entire family; wife and two teenaged children that had perished in a house fire while he was on a business trip. The man had not only lost his home and all of his belongings, but literally his whole world in one night. He explained that he was consumed with grief, and guilt for not being with them, or checking the smoke detector more often, or being home more often while they were still here. He only wanted to numb his pain, to feel nothing for just a little while. He doesn’t have details, because he can’t remember most of them himself. He only knows what people have told him and what his original intentions were that night.
He does remember what he wanted to do that night. He was drinking at the corner bar near his temporary hotel, and had gotten beyond intoxicated. The bar tender took his keys, but he remembered wanting to go visit the cemetery so he could end his life be with his family for good. After the bartender took his keys and called a cab, he apparently found his way into the back alley, and stole a parked delivery truck that had been unloading at a nearby restaurant. That truck is the very same one that broadsided Abby and I sending us into a busy intersection.
I know that this man is harboring more guilt and sadness in his heart than I will never know in my lifetime. After reading all of these letters, thinking about my situation and my losses, and discovering Andrew’s past, one thing has become clear. I think I, myself need to learn to forgive in order to begin healing myself. I need time to myself to finish grieving and to figure out how to move on so I have a future that isn’t riddled with the ghosts of my past. So I make a decision. I’m going home, but first I’m going to pay a visit to Samuel H. Forrester.
Chapter 21
Andrew:
It has been four days. My phone calls go straight to voicemail, my texts are going unanswered and I am falling apart. I have managed to make it to the hospital and home. Parker and Ethan have tried to get me to go out with them, but that isn’t happening. Cami has been camped out in my apartment for the past four days just trying to get me to eat, but every time I try I just end up getting sick. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. My sheets still smell like Charlie, and yes, I may have slept with a sweatshirt of hers I found on my closet fl
oor because it smelled like her. I have been stalking her social media sites and the band’s… nothing. Radio silence.
I’m lying on my couch replaying a video clip of Charlie on my phone over and over just so I can see her smile and hear her laugh. She’s so gorgeous it kills me to not talk to her, touch her, taste her, and hold her. She is the sun that my world orbits around.
“Andy! That’s enough, brother. You look like hell, you smell like shit, and you are never going to get her back by sitting here stalking her from the couch.” Cami says hitting the button on the wall to raise the blinds.
“Jesus Cam, a little bright…” I say squinting against the light. “She told me she wanted time to think, and she’s not answering any of my texts or calls.”
“Eventually her smell is going to wear off that sweatshirt, and then what will you have?” she asks crossing her arms. “Yeah, you know what I’m talking about.”
“Camille, I’m not giving up on her but I honestly don’t know where to start. She knows the facts already, but not the story.” I don’t rehash all that again.
“You start by getting her to talk to you. If you can’t get in touch over the phone, you know where she lives. Do something to put you both out of your misery. I won’t let you screw this up. Neither will Mom and Dad.”
“I know. I know I should have told her everything a lot sooner and I tried. I’m just not used to letting it out. I’m just not sure how to approach this. It’s been locked up for ten fucking years, Cam.”
“I think the first step in your approach should probably be showering and getting a haircut.” She says patting my shoulder.
I keep wiping my palms across my jeans as I enter the code to Charlie’s building. Approaching her door, I am both ecstatic and terrified at the thought of seeing her. I take a cleansing breath and knock as I can hear the heart beating in my ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. I hear movement from inside, and as the door opens I definitely do not see the fist flying at my face. A sharp, heavy pain lands me square in my jaw causing my teeth to snap together and my neck to whip to the side. I stumble, and as I start to recover I look up just in time to see Jay coming at me again.
“Jay!” Laney snaps from behind him yanking him back by the hood on his shirt.
“What? It’s not like this motherfucker didn’t have it coming.” He explains. I hold up my hands in surrender when he gives me another death glare.
“Look man. I know. I deserved that and I know I fucked it up, but I’d let you beat the shit out of me repeatedly if I could just come in talk to Charlie.”
“She’s not here, you asshole.”
“Jameson, seriously cool it for like five seconds. Andrew, come in.” Laney answers wedging her body between Jay and I.
“What do you mean she isn’t here? I can wait.” I reply looking around for any sign of her.
“Just sit down and let’s talk this out for a minute. I got fragments of a story and a heap of paperwork that includes your rap sheet and mug shots. So I respectfully ask, what in the actual hell is going on?”
“Alright, it is honestly doing me no good keeping it all to myself anyways. I will tell you everything I can, but first where is my girl?” I ask.
I learn that Charlie went home to her parents’ house to stay and over the next few hours I lay it all out there for Jay and Laney, starting from the very beginning with the loss of my brother, continuing onto the night of Abby and Charlie’s accident, how we met, and how I figured out who she was. Then I proceeded to go into detail about my plans of proposing, then finally the shitty ending that should have never been. By the time I’m done I’m crying like a fourteen-year-old girl that missed out on One Direction tickets and I don’t even give a shit. Laney is sobbing into a super-sized glass of pinot noir, and even Jay looks a bit stricken.
“And there you have it.” I sigh, dropping my head into my hands. “The worst part is that it looks bad. Shit. I know it is bad, believe me because I’ve been living in that guilty hell for a decade, but I never got to explain the whole story.”
“Shit dude. I’m really kinda sorry for punching you in the face like that now.” Jay says clapping me on the shoulder.
“We good doc?”
“Yeah man, we’re good. In all fairness, I did deserve it for not telling her everything when I should have. It’s just not really something I want to talk about, and I never wanted to ruin what we had. I guess in the end it did anyways because I never just took the chance. I don’t think you guys realize how much I love her because there aren’t even words to describe it to myself. I need her back, and I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
“I don’t think it will be as hard as you think Andrew.” Laney confesses.
“Charlie is a forgiving person, and besides you didn’t find her the way I did.” She shutters. “I honest to God thought she was dead or at the very least catatonic when I found her on the living room floor. I have no idea how long she’d been there, but Andrew she loves you. When she broke up with that fucktard, Tyler, she was completely indifferent, but this? This was earth shattering because you are her everything.”
It kills me that I caused her so much pain, I just hope that Laney is right and I will indeed be able to get my girl back. Luckily I am now a man with a plan, and the first step is making a call to Charlie’s father.
Charlie:
The snow begins to fall steadily, coating the fields in front of me in a soft blanket of white, and I pull the blanket around me a little tighter settling myself back into the Adirondack chair. Sure it is cold out, but being so deeply numb already I don’t notice much.
Over two weeks and not a fucking peep, and I miss him so much that its consuming me. He told me he wasn’t going to give up on me… on us, and in that moment I wanted him to because I was so angry and hurt that I couldn’t see around it. Then once I found myself back here, all I could do was think. Think about how much I missed talking, being wrapped in a warm safe hug, laughing at stupid jokes, listening to music, sharing my life with someone…no, not just someone. Andrew.
I’m still mad and confused, but my fingers are itching to pick up the phone and call him just to hear his voice. Every time I think about it and my pride gets the best of me. I know I am being stubborn and ridiculous, but I can’t bring myself to cave. I don’t know what would have happened had I stayed to hear Andrew out, and I hope I get the chance to see. I know I love him still… and always. I know that kind of thing doesn’t dissolve overnight regardless of how it ended, but right now I’m wondering if that will ever go away and I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
Somewhere in the back of my mind where the darkness lurks, I think I intentionally pushed him away and shut it down. Since the accident and losing Abby, I have this gnawing feeling that something terrible is going to happen to someone I love. It’s like when everything is going well for you and you are just waiting for the shit to hit the fan, figuratively speaking. If I pushed him away, at least I could lose him on my own terms and not be blindsided with pain that I can’t control. Then again and I’m an idiot and didn’t realize that this pain is so much worse in so many ways because it is avoidable and I’m the one that dug my own grave.
So here I sit, alone, with my head full of questions and no more answers than I had two weeks ago. I do know I am capable of forgiveness. I had a long face to face conversation with Samuel Forrester, and in the end I forgave him, and truly meant it. I gave him a hug, and wished him well. I tried to tell him that while I wish the circumstances were different, I am truly grateful for his contact. I also know that I have forgiven Andrew. I am pretty sure I forgave him that first night, but I still want to know every detail of his story. Not to judge him by, but so I can help him. I just don’t know if I will ever get that chance now. I am so fascinated by my chipping nail polish, that I don’t hear the door to the porch open and shut.
“Honey bun, its freezing out here. You should come inside. I don’t want you getting sick.”
My Mom insists blocking my view of the field in front of me.
“I’m fine Mom.”
“No Charlotte Lynn, you’re not fine.” She mocks putting her hands on her hips.
“You’ve been out here for more than an hour and a half with no coat or gloves. Get your butt inside before I call your father and have him come home to carry you in there himself.” She points to the door.
Grumbling I pull myself from the chair and shuffle my way back into the house kicking my sheepskin boots off in the mud room before heading into the kitchen.
“Let me get you some food.” She insists heading towards the fridge.
“For the millionth time, I’m not hungry Mom.” I snap as I slide onto a stool at the kitchen island.
“Yes Charlie, and for the millionth time I hear you, but you need to eat something. Honey, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be, but I think you might feel better if you just opened yourself up enough to let the man talk to you. I know we never got the chance to meet him, but I know how deeply you care. It wouldn’t be eating you up this way if you truly thought he was a bad person. We all make mistakes Charlie.”
“I know Mom, and I know you’re right. Obviously I’ve had time to think and I don’t know what he was like then or what the situation was, but I know he isn’t a bad person now. I know he loves me and I doubt he intentionally hurt me. I feel like I did just as much damage that day. I was so closed off I couldn’t even look at him. I just have no earthly clue of how to fix it or how to approach the situation, you know?” I say putting my forehead on the cool marble surface as she places a steaming mug of cider in front of me.
“Well munchkin, I think a good place to start is a warm bath and when you get done you can help me wrap some presents and do some baking. Then tomorrow is a new day and you can start fresh, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” I sigh as I grab the mug of cider and the blanket and head towards the stairs. A fresh start. I just hope that this time when I pick back up the pieces, I can keep them together.