Coming Home

Just in case I wasn't clear enough earlier: I AM SO, SO SORRY FOR HAVING BEEN A STUPID BITCH.

I don't know if you can accept my apology or if you even can forgive me. I do know that I don't deserve it, not after the way I treated you that day and the next few weeks, but I'm hoping nevertheless. And I also know that I still love you. I never stopped loving you. When you cut the remaining links I had with you and kicked me out of all the social media, it felt as if a piece of my very soul was cut out of me. I wallowed in the pain it caused because I knew I deserved it. I can't count the number of nights I cried myself to sleep, longing for even the slightest piece of information from you, dreaming of a day where you'd grant the forgiveness I don't deserve.

I went overseas to forget you, to move on, but I failed. I never even came close to being able to forget you. Since I've boarded the plane home, I knew I would attempt to find you to at least try and rebuild a friendship. I'm prepared to accept that you won't want that. If you're reading this letter, it will most likely mean that you gave me what I deserved and sent me away. Don't worry. I have no intention of hurting or even killing myself. I don't deserve to shorten or even lessen the pain I feel.

If you ever manage to forgive me and need anyone to talk to, please think of me. I'll take every scrap of attention you're willing to give, no matter how little it is. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, yet at the same time, I know there's nothing I can do but hope.

I LOVE YOU! I ALWAYS HAVE! I ALWAYS WILL!

I AM SORRY!

Forever Yours

Veronica

xxx xxx xx xx

I sat there, my mind in turmoil, not knowing what to make of it. Even if it were true what would it change? How could I know that she wouldn't do the same thing again the next time she had a hormonal mood swing? And the dumping was one thing. Brian was another. I found it hard to believe that she grabbed the next best guy to make me jealous. Three days! Three days after she had dumped me I saw her kissing Brian. I just couldn't believe that she hadn't been with him before.

I didn't understand what targets she pursued with this letter but I wouldn't let her back into my life. She had messed with me before. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice ...

I rose slowly from the couch and folded the handwritten pages in half. After only a moment's hesitation, I tore them up. I stacked the pieces together and split them once more. On my way upstairs, I dumped the scraps in the trash can. I knew what was about to happen and needed to make sure that my sister wouldn't get to see me in this state of mind. Shortly after moving back home to care for my sister, I had moved into the master bedroom with the annexed bathroom. Today was the first time I was really glad I had done so because I could make sure that I would not be disturbed. I locked the door to my bedroom, entered the bathroom, locked that door as well, shed my clothes and walked into the shower. By the time the water had reached an acceptable temperature, the tears were already running down my cheeks. I stayed in the shower crying for more than an hour. When I was done I was so exhausted I just dropped on my bed and fell asleep immediately.

But sleep wasn't the escape I had hoped for. I dreamed of Veronica, of days long gone by, happy days, only to inevitably have the dream turn into darkness at some point. When I finally woke up, I felt whacked. Since the first few days after my parents had died, I hadn't felt so horrible. But one thing had become clear to me. I needed to talk to Veronica or I would never find the closure I needed to really move on. I decided to think it over for a couple of days and would then send Veronica a text and ask her to meet me. Somewhere public. Where the chances of either of us making a scene were smaller.

My sister tiptoed around me that morning until I convincingly assured her that I was fine. Surprisingly, I really felt better. The decision to talk to Veronica caused that. I hoped that it was the first step on my way to a healing.

+

Two days later, on Friday morning, I was working at the hardware store after I had dropped off my sister at her school. I was sweeping the floor in the storage when a woman spoke my name.

"Will?"

Surprised, I looked up, customers weren't supposed to be back here, and recognised Mrs Masterson, Veronica's mom.

"Mrs Masterson. Good morning. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Thanks. And yourself? I heard about your parents. I'm really sorry for your loss. I was actually there during the funeral but kept away from you as I didn't know how you'd react to my presence."

Wouldn't that ever stop? They had been dead for almost two and a half years. I had other things to worry about now and didn't need to be reminded of their passing.

"It was worse for my sister. She was so young and suddenly alone. Being eleven years older, I was better prepared for something like that."

"From what I've heard, your sister is really lucky to have you as her brother. You're taking good care of her and it shows great responsibility."

I didn't feel comfortable being lauded like that. Especially not by someone I hadn't spoken to in more than six years.

"Let's go back to the store, you're not supposed to be back here. What can I get you?"

"It's ok. Charles is a friend of mine. He sent me here as I would like to talk to you in private for a minute."

I tensed immediately. There was only one thing that Veronica's Mom would want to talk about to me and I wasn't ready for that yet.

"I don't think I want that, Mrs Masterson."

"It's Gillian. You're a responsible adult now. Almost a dad."

"I still don't think I want to talk about Veronica with you, Gillian.

I felt weird addressing her with the first name but I was twenty-four by now and not a High School teenager anymore.

"If Carla was suffering and you thought you could do something about it, what would you do?"

"I would do everything in my power to help her."

She smiled at me.

"And that's what I'm trying to do for Veronica. Please listen to me."

I recognised her appealing to my parental instincts for what it was. A dirty trick to get me to listen. Unfortunately, it worked. I gave Gillian a short nod and invited her to follow me to the employees' breakroom where I poured us each a coffee. After offering her a chair to sit down, I took my seat across the table.

"Where to start? Six years ago, Veronica made a mistake. A big one. It's not just me saying that, it's her. She said it the first time the day after you two broke up."

"We," I emphasised the word strongly, "didn't break up. She dumped me."

She looked at me and I could see in her eyes how she understood that sugar coating wouldn't work.

"I told her to call you, to talk to you, to apologise as soon as possible but she was afraid you wouldn't forgive her. Instead, she created a scenario in her hormone-distorted mind that you would come for her if you saw her in the arms of another man. I tried to talk her out of it but I failed. In her mind, she had created a picture where you would come after her, fight for her and win her back. Instead, you did what every normal man would have done. You turned away from her."

"I would have done anything for her but if she wasn't willing to give her love freely there was no use fighting for it."

"I know. I told her the same thing, almost word for word. Two weeks after you broke up, after she dumped you, she was devastated. She had realised that her plan didn't work, she had seen you turn around and walk away when she kissed Brian to make you jealous."

I shook my head. This didn't match with the story I had created in my mind.

"I don't believe that she didn't see Brian before she dumped me. It just went too fast after she got rid of me."

"No, Will. Please believe me. She didn't cheat on you. She didn't see Brian while she was with you. I know that."

"Of course, you'd say that. You're on her side."

She looked at me in shock. That wasn't what she had expected.

"Please. Believe me. This is not about taking sides. They had been together for over half a year when I overheard him beg for her to finally put out. They hadn't slept together yet at this time. She didn't cheat on you, not even after you weren't together anymore."

"Would you believe yourself if you were in my place?"

"She has been crying non-stop for two days now and keeps looking at her phone. It took me a while to find out that she tried to speak to you on Tuesday."

As I realised that I couldn't believe Gillian any more than I could Veronica, I got out of my chair.

"If it makes you and her feel better, you can tell her I forgive her. If I'm ever ready to talk to her, I'll get in touch. Now, I have to get back to work."

"She still loves you, Will," Gillian interjected while also standing up. "She never stopped. She even fled the country hoping that her misery would be left behind. Not that she succeeded very well. You can't run from your feelings. I can see that you love her, too. It's written all over your face. Why do you torment yourself? What else does it need than two people in love?"

"Trust, Mrs Masterson," I told her consciously using her surname as I left her standing in the breakroom. "Trust."

+

I was cleaning the kitchen after dinner when the doorbell rang on a Monday evening, two weeks after the incident with Veronica's mother. I hadn't heard from either of them during this time and was assuming that they had accepted my decision but I hadn't yet found the courage to contact Veronica. I had attempted to call or send a text but had so far chickened out every time I tried. It wasn't something I was proud of, I didn't want her to suffer. From that perspective, I really seemed to have forgiven her.

"I'll get it," Carla called out before I had the chance to ask her for it.

It wasn't a minute later that she came into the kitchen, carrying a large bouquet of roses in her arms and a huge grin on her face. "You seem to have a secret admirer, Brodad."

The moment I saw the flowers, I knew what this was about. Veronica hadn't given up. She had just changed her tactics.

"Who says that they are for me? You've become a pretty young lady, maybe they are for you."

"The card here says something different. See? It clearly spells 'William'."

I couldn't suppress a little smile.

"Put them on the table, I'll take care of them when I'm done here."

"As if," my sister stated as she went to the cupboard where we kept the vases.

She got one out and filled it with water. As she proceeded to put the flowers in the vase, I stopped her.

"You need to cut the stalks to keep the flower from wilting unnecessarily fast."

"And when did you become an expert on flower care?"

"That's common Brodad-knowledge."

She giggled at my rather lame joke before asking how she had to cut it. I quickly finished cleaning the surfaces and then got out a pair of scissors. I showed her on one of the roses how she had to cut it and then patiently supervised her while she practised on the other eleven. We then arranged them nicely in the vase and put them on the kitchen table.

"And who sent them?"

"I don't know," I lied, knowing very well that my sister didn't believe me. "Let me read the card."

I took the envelope from the table and pulled the flap out. In the envelope was a simple white piece of paper and on it, written in beautiful calligraphy, were three words in red ink: 'Whatever it takes.'

There was no name and no signature but to me, it was clear who had sent the flowers. My sister kept pestering me, trying to get me to tell her who my admirer was. She didn't believe me when I repeated that I didn't know.

The same time two days later, the doorbell rang again. This time I received a box of chocolates. It was accompanied by a similar card as the flowers. 'Whatever it takes.'

On Friday I got two tickets to the cinema for a showing of the latest Disney movie on Saturday afternoon. I was a bit hesitant to go because I was worried that Veronica would be there as well but finally I gave in to the begging of my sister, if only because I hadn't been able to treat her to something like a visit to the cinema very often in the past. Veronica wasn't there. Or at least I didn't see her.

On Monday, I received a framed picture of a beautiful pond. It took me a moment to recognise it as I hadn't been there for seven years. It was a photo taken from one of our favourite places. From the perspective, it was safe to assume that it had been taken from the precise spot where Veronica and I used to go to sit and talk when we didn't want to be disturbed. Written in the lower right corner using gold letters was her promise. 'Whatever it takes.'

Wednesday, I received a key, taped to the backside of the card. Only a key. I kept it safe in the coin pocket of my wallet. On Friday, she sent me a locked treasure box. When I opened it, it contained a small golden heart. Engraved was the sentence, I by now associated with her. 'Whatever it takes.' Damn, that was cheesy. Almost painfully so.

That night, I decided that it was time. Veronica and I needed to talk. I wasn't sure yet what would come out of it, I wasn't even sure what my point of view would be. I knew I still loved her. I learned that from the anticipation for and my reaction to the small gifts she had sent me. What I didn't know was whether it was enough to love her. What I still didn't know was if I could trust her.

After my sister had gone to bed, I sat down on the couch my mobile in my hands. It still was the same iPhone that had already been old when I bought it as a student four years ago. I went to my contacts and opened Veronica's card. The first thing I did was to unblock her. Then I changed to the message app and entered her name. I could just as well have entered her number which I still knew by heart and had recognised on the letter she had given to me a month ago.

'I'm willing to talk.'

That was not sufficient. It was too crude. She'd be unnecessarily worried about my intentions. I still wasn't sure what I would say but I didn't want her to suffer. That would be mean.

'I'm ready to meet and talk. Thank you for your patience.'

Was that too much? Was I raising hopes when there were none? I understood a little how she must have felt when she was trying to start her letter to me. My finger was already hovering over the 'Send'-button when I discovered a major flaw in the text. I hadn't proposed a time and a place. I was working tomorrow from seven to eleven thirty. Then I'd go home, prepare a lunch, eat, clean up and take a shower. That meant I would be ready by two or maybe two thirty. And where should we meet? I still thought that a public place would be safest but I didn't know if Veronica agreed. Well, there was only one way to find out.

'I'm ready to meet and talk. Thank you for your patience. I'm available tomorrow or on Sunday from three to six. Can you make that? Is Starbucks ok to meet?'

I had barely sent the message when my phone vibrated to signal that the reply had come in.

'Whatever it takes. Tomorrow at three in Starbucks. I'm buying.'

I let out a deep breath. That was it. Now I just needed to know what I wanted to say. Was anything that she had written true? Had her mother told me the truth? I believed her that she was sorry for what had happened but I wasn't sure about the reasons. It's not as if I was the big multi-million-bucks-prize out there. I wasn't the most handsome, the tallest or the most muscular guy out there. I didn't earn much and my job had no development opportunities. I was the legal guardian of a teenager and would remain so for at least five more years. So what was she after if not me? But why me? After more than six years?

And what if she did it again? What if she dumped me again for some weird reason? In the past, my entire reasoning had been built on the assumption that she had cheated on me and preferred to be with the other guy. Maybe that was the reason I refused to believe both her and her mother. If she hadn't dropped me for another guy, none of my conclusions made sense anymore.

My mind kept spinning in circles and I found it impossible to come to a conclusion or stop thinking about it. At some point, I fell asleep but by the time my alarm told me that it was time to go up, I was already wide awake again.

+

My shift at work was pure torture. I was so distracted that I barely did anything right.

"Will, go home."

"I'm sorry, Charles. I'll focus. I promise."

I owed him a lot for all the help he had offered since I had first applied for a job in his store. It wouldn't do to hurt his business with my thoughtlessness.

"No. Go home. I don't want you near our customers or anything fragile right now. In the state of mind which you're in you'd break a crowbar, lengthwise."

Unfortunately, he wasn't totally wrong about that but I couldn't afford to skip the salary and told him that.

"I'll pay you in full for today."

He opened the cash register and took out a bill from the right side of the drawer where the bigger bills were held.

"I'll even pay for a takeaway pizza for you and Carla. I wouldn't want you to burn down the house or poison your sweet sister."

"Charles, I don't..."

"Shut up," he interrupted me good-heartedly. "Just come back normal on Monday after you've spoken to Veronica."

Veronica? What had Veronica to do with it? What did he know about Veronica?

"What?"

The wide grin on his face told me almost everything I needed to know but he still replied.

"You know that Gillian is a friend of mine. She's kept me up to date after she was here recently. She called me this morning to warn me that you might not be your usual self today and rarely has somebody been as right with a prediction."

"What?"

I had barely understood what he was trying to say. What did Mrs Masterson have to do with it? What prediction? Charles looked at my puzzled face and just started laughing.

"Just go. And don't forget to buy pizza. I like your sister way too much to let you kill her in your confusion."

When I didn't move he put a hand on my shoulder, guided me to the changing room, handed me my jacket and pushed me out the door. I did as he told me. I bought us some pizza on the way home, much to the delight of Carla. It's not as if I was a bad cook, just the opposite, but take-away pizza was a rare and therefore cherished variation.

After I had cleaned away the boxes, I told my sister that I had an appointment and would be gone in the afternoon. I went upstairs to shower and dress but Carla clearly didn't intend to let me off the hook so easily and started an interrogation during which she tried to find out more. My refusal to answer her questions did nothing to lessen her curiosity.

Finally, I ended the ongoing barrage and went to take a shower. She was waiting in my bedroom when I was done.

"Didn't I say it's enough?"

"Yes, you did and I won't ask any more questions," Carla replied. "I already know all I need to know. You're meeting your secret admirer who by the way is Veronica. I'm here to help you dress properly."

"I'm eleven years older than you are. I know how to dress."

Teenager condescension is difficult to experience without bursting out laughing sometimes.

"You know how to dress but you don't know how to DRESS."

"And what made you a fashion expert?"

"I'm a girl. I'm born with it."

I smiled and pulled her into an embrace.

"Thanks a lot for the offer but I decide myself on what I'm wearing."

It wasn't as if I had much of a selection in the first place and I didn't want Carla to see how many more clothes she had than I did. I had enough, no doubt about it, but my sister's clothing budget was about triple mine. After a few more minutes of discussion, she left my room pouting. I dressed in my better clothes: a rather new pair of jeans, a black polo, and my thin grey jacket. I reminded my sister to leave the house intact while I was gone, promised to back in time for dinner and left. I decided against the car which had been reluctantly replaced by the insurance company after my parents' fatal accident, and in favour of the bus, mostly because I wasn't sure if I'd be in the condition to drive after the meeting.