Discarded Memories and Persistent Letters

Tearstains cover the letter she was holding. The writing was smudged and the letter edges blotted. Not knowing what to expect from it, she just continued to gaze at it. Staring at the stains, smudges and blots but not really reading through the lines.
The stains mean the writer was crying while inscribing his thoughts. The smudges signify shaking while composing the letter. The blots mean uncontrolled pressure. The letter seemed like a bomb waiting to explode at just the right moment. Waiting for the pin to be pulled perhaps.
She sensed desperation in the paper. She wanted to read it, thoroughly and fast, but there’s something stopping her. She felt the need to read it and the want was pressing her eyes to look at the letter properly. But she didn’t want to… She can’t make herself. She doesn’t want to remember the what if’s and what should have been’s. Not anymore.
She fixed her eyes instead on the back of the leaving postman, not wanting to have anything to do with the paper in her hands. But the memories came unstopped. They surged through her brain without consideration of what she would feel.

She heard a sound from the top of the stairs. She looked up and thought, “Trapped!”
Both of them were standing very still and looking at each other. She didn’t want to be the first one to talk and she didn’t expect him to, but she doesn’t want to lower her eyes too.
“Remember the day I said I love you?” he suddenly asked. “That is the day I also said goodbye. And you didn’t do anything about it.”
She kept quiet. She suddenly wanted the earth to swallow her whole. His eyes were misty but stern. They were piercing through her very self. She can’t handle those eyes, so she gave all her attention to the floor.
Hearing no answer from her, he stoically walked down. “Why?”
Heart thumping and body trembling, she raised her eyes and said, “Because I thought that was what you wanted. I though you wanted out.”
He was already on her step, but remained taciturn. She proceeded, “They say that if you love someone, set him free. I did. And if he comes back, he’s yours.” She reached for his hand and felt no resistance. “Are you coming back? Are you mine?”
He shook his head, as if in resignation. She gave up and almost walked away. Then suddenly, he hugged her tight, tipped her head high and brushed her ear. “Yes. I’m yours. There and then. Here and now.”
She cried in accidental bliss.

They were happy once. Having been together since their third year in high school, they lasted more than other married couples. They have borne witness to each other’s problems and triumphs, and even after many fights and misunderstandings they stood by each other and were still there to support.
Perhaps that was enough for her to read the letter. Maybe it should be a one last time thing. Just like that text message.

In the middle of the night, she texted, “Hey. They’re playing our song.” Yes, she wasn’t expecting any response considering the time and the situation. But at the back of her mind she knows that she yearns for a reply, even if it will be tomorrow.
After texting she switched the player to the next song. The song brought back too many emotions that were long forgotten and filed in one of the cabinets in her brain purposely labeled ‘Discarded Memories’.

She looked again at the letter she was holding. She sighs. She better get this over with. The sooner she reads this, the sooner it will be finished, and the sooner she will experience calm again. Even if she wanted to throw it out and just escape to the simple dream that there was never a “we”, she can’t for she knows that another will come in a few days if she doesn’t respond.
She sits in the swing chair in the patio and reads.

She was in the far end of the beach to rest her heavy heart and to seek refuge from the stifling atmosphere of the city and the burning pressure in her mind. She was looking at the horizon where flashes of orange, yellow and red reflect in the shimmering waters of the ocean.
The beach house was a gift from an uncle during their wedding day. He said that the house was once a testimony of his love for his late wife and hopes that it would hold the same for them. But now, as she gazes at the house and then back to the horizon, it is nothing more than a beautifully made building filled with nothing, no good memories or bad memories. It is just a house.
Thinking aloud, she said, “I thought with love anything is possible. If I love him, and he loves me, everything and everybody would be tolerable…” She bowed her head. “Well, it was. Everything and everybody else but us were okay. Us? Not anymore…”
She picked up a pebble from the shore and threw it to the ocean as she shouted, “But we still love each other. That makes this so complicated!”

The letter read:

My dearest, dearest Lily,

Attached is the final copy our divorce papers. I have signed all lines for me and it is only waiting for your signature for the divorce to be final.
I am very sorry that we have come to this point. I was just as sure as you were that our marriage would be a living testament of how true love survives to our friends, children and grandchildren. But I suppose we both have reached the end of the line of patience and understanding, acceptance and deference.
It never occurred to me that the day we would finally achieve the necessary fearlessness to say I love you repeatedly would also be the day that we realize how unfit we are for each other. Since then, every single time we say “I love you” to each other, we would feel that small twinge in our hearts saying that our love doesn’t make us happy anymore.
I thought that the love we feel for each other would be endless; that we will be able to handle every issue thrown to you, to me, and to us; that we will be able to deal with the difference of how we treat our lives and with the changes of everybody around us. I thought. And no matter how hard it was, we did. But we never learned to deal with ‘us’. No marriage counselor, friends or relatives can make us handle the problems between us. And I say it once again, we aren’t happy with each other anymore…
I know that you wish that we were never together to spare you of the heartache it brings now. I know your opinion on hell after heaven. I wish I could agree with you on that, but dearest, I am happy we were once a couple. I felt that I had found ‘me’ in another person. If anything else, that makes it all worthwhile. I hope you realize that too.
I tell you that I love you, and I truly do. I know you still love me too. There is no need to say these a thousand times. But I guess this is it—the inevitable goodbye.

For the last time,
Your loving husband,
Garth

She drops the letter, dazed and speechless at its contents. It was all true—their hopes and dreams of growing old together, the intolerance now, them giving up on each other, and most of all, the love they still have. If anything else, she feels remorse over that. For how could they still love each other truly and tremendously and yet they cannot stand each other? She loves him and he loves her, but why can’t they endure to live with each other? They tried a lot of times to patch things up, to try things out again. But to no avail.
They are in an old house in the mountains. The smell of pine emanates from the surrounding trees. The sound of crickets chirping is heard in the air. The hardwood floor and walls give a feeling of simple coziness. The seats on the right are hand carved, shaped along the natural contours of the trees they were from.
On top of the seats are pillows covered by hand-woven fabric of colors red, white and black. On their left is an open door curtained with beads. Set on the walls were black and white photos of the family. Fresh poppies and daisies are displayed in the center table. Several letters are on the counter. Simple coziness.
The hammock in the porch invites them out. From there, they see the sun reflected in the waters. Both are enthralled by the way the light strikes the lake. The orange, red, and yellow lights of the sun are dispersed in the water. Ripples cause the light to as if grow, making the lake seem to be a golden one.
She casually leans back to his body. He embraces her from behind. Slowly, as the sun finally does set, all the troubles they brought with them are forgotten. And a new beginning is found.
That was one of the few times that they lived amiably with each other in the latter years. Nine times out of ten instances they were not fine.
It seems like decades ago when she would drop everything and anybody just for him. But now, she needs urging to do the things she would have preciously have loved to perform in just a flick of a finger. In fact, the time that seems like decades is just several years. In a mere six years of married life, all things weren’t what they were before. Her love, her passion, and her self-sacrifice for him are all gone. She never wanted the outlook she had over him to alter in any way possible. She never wanted it to change because it would revolutionize every emotion she has had for everyone and everything, be it an individual, group, event, or place. Now, she has a lot of things to consider, and re-consider, and understand. And she simply does not have the energy to deal with all that right now…
She sighs and signs over the few dotted lines in the divorce document and sent it back with a single sentence note.

I love you.