I sighed at him and looked both ways in the hall before I walked out of his room and quickly made my way into his father's room. There were no lights on, so the only illumination was the moonlight through the window, which actually proved to be surprisingly sufficient. I was glad, because I didn't want to turn any lights on. His dad was at the store, so he could pull in anytime, and I didn't really want him to see his bedroom light on.
I walked softly into the room as if I might disturb it, and I immediately saw the shelving unit Derek told me the movie was in. I glanced over it once quickly, but didn't find it, so I went back over it again. I couldn't see the top shelf very well because I was too short, but I stood on my tiptoes, ignoring the picture in the left side of the shelf, which showed a much younger Mike with a very pregnant Sarah standing outside of somebody's house. I only glanced at it for a moment, then I went back to scanning titles of movies.
Suddenly I frowned, not finding Scarface, but noticing that there actually was one lonesome book in that shelf. The way the moon happened to be positioned, I couldn't quite make out the title at first, but I was curious to see if it was another diet book. I inched my fingers up there and wedged them between the book and the movie next to it, and I yanked it out, pulling it down.
My pulse skittered when I saw that the book just so happened to be Wuthering Heights.
When my heart started beating again, I stared at the book for a few seconds with wide-eyes, thinking of my mother's last journal entry. Maybe it was just a coincidence, I reasoned quickly. Maybe it had nothing to do with my mom.
Still, the book was hidden up in that corner, and it was the only book he seemed to own.
But if my mother had indeed been the one to loan him that book, that would mean... that she actually saw him. As far as I knew, my mother hadn't actually seen Mike... well, she hadn't spoken to Mike in years. But if he was the person she had given the book to...
I carefully opened the book, lost in thought, and I flipped through a few pages until I came upon an aged, folded up piece of paper. No, a couple pieces of paper.
My eyes widened a little and I peeked over my shoulder, making sure no one was witnessing my snooping, then unfolded the worn pieces of paper. The first words I saw were, "Dear Mike," and they were in handwriting that I knew better than I knew my own.
My heart skipped another beat as I realized it was a letter from my mom. And he had kept it.
This is supposed to be one of those letters that you write to someone knowing that you'll never actually give it to them. The reason I'm starting this letter that way is so that I'll be completely honest, get all my feelings down on paper, and then maybe I'll burn it or throw it away.
But I’m already pretty honest with you, don't you think?
; Well, here's some more honesty.
I meant everything that I said to you the night I told you that I still cared about you, that I didn't want to let go, that I wasn't going to go away that easily. I made up my mind –my heart—that night to fight for you, to stick it out as long as it was what we both wanted, no matter how long that might take. But that night I still felt like you cared about me. I still care about you more than you know, but lately I feel like you're pulling away from me. And I can't fight this battle on my own, Mike. I need to know that you're on my side. I realize you have other things you're dealing with right now, but why do you have to handle it all alone? Why can't you let me be there for you?
Now, I'm going to be completely honest. I want to keep holding on, but I need more from you. Can't you see that holding on like this is killing me? I don't know if it just seems like it isn't as hard on you, or if it really isn't, but it really is hard on me. I don't like having to sneak around, but I am willing to do it if that's what it takes to be with you. Honestly, I hate that I am willing, but I am. I can't help it. I just can't seem to walk away from you, no matter how hard I try. I also hate to tell you that, but...
I have asked you at least a dozen times if you want me to let go. You give me mixed signals. Don't get me wrong, if you felt good about cheating, that would definitely be a problem, but...
I guess that’s the problem. You see it as cheating, I just see it as being with you part-time.
I don't want to do it anymore. Not like this. I would do anything for you—including letting you go, if that was what you wanted. I've asked you over and over again, and you won't come right out and say it, but you insinuate that you don't want me to let go, then when I push you to clarify, you tell me you give me "clear enough" answers. Well, my interpretation is that you don't want me to let go. If you do, please don't think you're being kind by lying to me. You're not. If you want me to let go, then let me go. I will go away just like that, Mike, all you have to do is tell me to. It will hurt, I won't want to, but I will. Eventually I'm sure I'll even get over it.
But I need you to make a decision. I'm sorry, I've tried to just take what you could give me, but it's not right and it's not what I want. I know that you're back together, but you told me that was just because of the baby. I've given this a lot of thought, and I want you to please think about this.
If you're just with her out of some sense of duty and responsibility, I understand, but it doesn't have to be this way. Your duty and responsibility is to your child, not to Sarah. You don't have to be with her. You can be with me, but it's your choice to make. You have to do what you want to do. I love kids; I already told you that night in the break room that that wasn't enough to make me walk away. I have tried to be patient and understanding, and I will continue to be understanding. I'm more than willing to compromise with you, to work with you and try to make nice with Sarah to make your life easier. You're not even giving me a chance. I feel like you've just decided that it won't work, so you're not even going to try.
If that's the case, I obviously don't mean very much to you. If you cared about me the way you claim to, you would be willing to try.
You don’t have to pick me, but I do need you to pick one of us. I just want you to be happy, whatever you decide to do. Whether you return the feeling or not, I care for you very deeply, and I want nothing more than your happiness.
I need to know what you want.
If I didn't care so much, I wouldn't be doing this to myself. I would just keep what pride and dignity I have left and call it a loss. Instead, I find myself baring my heart to you time after time. So what's one more time?
I don't want to let you go. I don't want to get over you. I still want to be with you, to hell with the complications. We can get through each and every one of these complications if we want it enough. But if you don't want to, I need you to tell me. Please.
If you don't, please just let me go.
Whatever you choose, be happy. The one thing I cannot stand to imagine is you being unhappy. But I need an answer. I can't keep going on like this.
Love always, Jamie
I stood there, just staring at the note for a few seconds. I lightly rubbed my thumb over her name, feeling bad for the girl she had been.