I imagined that if you agreed to it, I’d send you pages with reflective thoughts. You’ll send me a page with a joke or two. I miss many things about you, but your humor is one of the biggest ones—also, your company.
Am I allowed to tell you how I feel?
I have hundreds of emails I’ve written to you since I left the hospital. Of course, they are all hiding, like me, in the draft box of my old email. Do you remember when we first got those accounts?
Well, you set them up. [email protected] was mine. Yours was [email protected].
I remember you saying once that you’d fuck Han Solo, but you’d marry Luke—if you weren’t brothers. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. Solo was a cocky bastard who didn’t have a moral code. Luke worked his ass off to become a Jedi.
Sorry, I’m digressing here. I almost stepped into a conversation you wouldn’t want to have with me now or maybe never.
If you need anything, reach out. I’m here even when you don’t want me to be around.
Love,
Ethan
Ethan,
My guess is that you wrote that letter six months ago. I only opened it today. It’s been sitting in a drawer since I moved into the cabin. You might have questions about my relocation, not so much on why I haven’t opened the letter.
Have you noticed that your life is a minefield of lies?
As a person who one time considered you his friend, I suggest you work on your issues.
I didn’t tell Hannah or Tucker about the incident because, at the time, I wasn’t in a good place. Know that once I’m ready, I’ll tell them about the mess and how that moment indirectly saved my life. For some, it might sound like an over-the-top statement. It’s not. I value my truth and my beliefs.
Those email addresses were stupid. We were dorks. Also, you were the one with the Han Solo crush. I just explained to you why the best choice was Luke. I suppose if I had to choose anyone, it would be Captain Kirk (Chris Pine version). Ask Nana. She agrees with me.
Zeke
From: ZJH <[email protected]>
To: EDK <[email protected]>
Subject: For you …
I’m allowed to receive calls, letters, and visitors. From time to time, I go to Silverthorne. If I feel adventurous, I make my way to Luna Harbor. Have you been to the cottage? The lawn is trimmed, the house looks clean, and the other day I thought I saw an Aston Martin parked in front of it.
That’s not important. I sent you a letter, and after I dropped it in the mail, I realized that I forgot to add one thing.
For you, I’m not available.
You upset the balance. I discovered that you let my negative emotions out quickly, and though I’m working on learning how to handle them, this isn’t the best time to test my patience. Though, you gave me an excellent idea. I’ll be using this old account to compose emails where I tell you in a million different ways how to go and fuck yourself.
It’ll be brilliant.
Zeke
P.S. Do you seriously own an Ashton Martin?
From: EDK <[email protected]>
To: ZJH <[email protected]>
Subject: Answers …
You said not to contact you, but you sent a couple of questions, and I’m guessing you want to know the answers.
I go once a month to Luna Harbor to give some TLC to the cottage. I have a service that goes every week to clean the house and another that cares for the garden, the trees, and changes the flower beds every season.
Yes, I have an Aston Martin (Not Ashton. I see what you’re doing there.)
Do you think we’ll ever sit down to at least get closure?
Love,
Ethan
From: ZJH <[email protected]>
To: EDK <[email protected]>
Subject: Closure?
I hope your day is better than mine.
I told you to stay the fuck away. I spent the last one-hundred-and-twenty minutes debating with Mr. Arnes about you. That email set me back at least a few weeks. Just when I thought that I’d be celebrating Halloween at home, you fucked it up.
Let’s begin with…can you look up the definition of closure?
It is knowing the reason why a romantic RELATIONSHIP ended. Well, it never started, so we don’t need fucking closure.
You should get closure from Lori. That’s a fucked up relationship. Unless you’re back with her. Wait, that’s me again digressing. I can’t believe you dated her. She’s the opposite of what you’d want in a relationship. Then again, I stopped knowing you years ago. It might’ve been when you became a suit.
Stop emailing me,
Zeke
P.S. Ash might like his new nickname. If I see him again, I’ll ask him, maybe key the name on the side of the door to see if it looks like an Ash.
From: EDK <[email protected]>
To: ZJH <[email protected]>
Subject: Anger management?
You should try to seek help before you key my car.
We didn’t name our relationship, but we had an emotional attachment. The day the feelings and the pain are gone, we will have that closure. If we’re lucky, we might start a new healthy relationship.
It’s a thought.
News flash, I don’t know myself either. To be honest, I got lost around the time the band started. It was easier to pretend I wasn’t me. Since I bring you so many negative emotions, I’ll stop sending you messages.
Love,
Ethan
P.S. Are you the one who left a pot of lavender outside the house?
From: ZJH <[email protected]>
To: EDK <[email protected]>
Subject: Halloween in a kit
It wasn’t necessary to send me a Halloween in a kit.
Thanks, I guess. Yes, it was me, the one who left the pot of lavender. How can you have a place in Luna Harbor and not have lavender in the garden? I’m confused.
Hannah might’ve told you that I’ll be out of here soon. Please keep your distance.
Zeke
Chapter Nine
Zeke
I’m free.
By that, I don’t mean I’m out of the rehab center and ready to start a new life. I’m actually referring to the feeling of not having an enormous weight on my chest sinking me to the bottom of the ocean.
Though, I am on my way to Seattle to start a new life.
During my stay in LR&R, I learned a lot about myself. My triggers, my relapse warnings, and I think I’m prepared for what my counselor called post-acute withdrawal syndrome. I recognize emotions, and I’m ready to learn how to handle them in real life. In theory, I should be able to ask for help, tell others how I feel, and let them take care of me.
“I am enough” is a phrase I’ll repeat from now on when I feel like I need to go out of my way for others so they’ll accept me. Those times when I want to numb myself because I don’t accept myself either. That cocky mask I wore as a teenager, where I pretended to not give a fuck, cracked long ago. I learned to use drugs, alcohol, and sex to replace it.