Lost Loves

"Why don't you love me anymore Bobby?" she asks, her eyes just beginning to water as she tries to suppress the tears.

"Jessica, it's been eight years since I last saw you," I reply. "We haven't even spoken since you were in school at Auburn."

"I know, it's just that..."

"And you married someone else," I remind her. "When you married him I had to let you go."

She looks away, covering her face in hands that tremble slightly to conceal her sobbing. For several moments she says nothing, silently crying as she sits beside me. I drape my arm over her shoulder to provide what meager consolation such gestures can offer, when she removes her hands and looks upon my face with tear filled eyes. Those emerald green eyes, the same ones I looked into all those years ago when we shared a love so innocent. Two college sweethearts she and I once were, for she was both my first girlfriend and first kiss. But that was so long ago, a lifetime ago, and as we sit together on the couch in my apartment I see only a relic from my past.

"I thought about you every day I was married to him," she confesses. "Every day for the past five years."

"Jessica, please don't..."

"Every day Bobby. I always wondered if I made a mistake letting you go. I always wondered what might have been between us if I had not told you goodbye. You are so different than any man I have ever known and I just...I just could not forget about you. I want to be with you again."

And there it is -- her confession. She has driven all the way to Atlanta just to see me, an unexpected reunion after eight years apart, a reunion that I was hesitant to agree to lest she surprise me with the admission she has just made. There was a time all those years ago when had she uttered those words I would have given my life to be with her, a time when she was the light of my world...but this is not that time, and the fidelities that her confession is trying to elicit have long since passed away.

"I'm sorry Jessica...I cannot give you what you want from me."

Her head sinks low as she mutters, "Why Bobby? I do not understand."

"Do not make me say. It will only lead to hurt feelings."

"Please tell me," she begs. "I came all the way to Atlanta just to see you."

"I did not ask you to come," I remind her.

She nods, looking out my bedroom window to see her car parked just outside. For a moment I can read the hesitation in her eyes as she wonders what to do next, if she should simply drive away forever or make one last attempt to understand why we can never be together again.

She takes my hand within her own. "Please Bobby...please tell me why you do not love me."

My answer will crush her. My answer will break her heart, but she has asked me for the truth, and so I shall tell her. I look into her eyes and say, "Because I am in love with someone else."

Her fingers loosen. She lets go of my hand. For several minutes she simply cries as I hold her and say nothing more. Finally her weeping subsides and she stands up to take her leave. We hug each other just before she walks out the door, a lingering embrace that we both know will be our last. I watch her drive away forever, knowing that she is taking a part of her heart back with her, a part she gave me all those years ago which I now return.

After she leaves at this late hour I spend several moments in quiet reflection before retiring to bed. But before I do, I check my e-mail for the last time tonight, just to see if anything interesting has arrived, when my eyes behold a single letter...a letter from you Ornela that makes my heart stop:

"Hey Bobby,

I'm sorry for everything that I have put you through. My wish was to come find you in Atlanta, hug you, and tell you that I'm sorry in person. It is a bit difficult for me to do that at the moment, however I did not want to wait any longer from contacting you again. I can't say much right now except that I'm willing to give us another try. But you need to know that I'm going through an extremely rough time emotionally right now, so we have to take this slow.

I am looking forward to giving us one last chance.

Love,

Ornela"

I read your letter a dozen times...again, and again, and again. And then I cry, for a happier moment I have never known.

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You think that I do not understand how you feel Ornela, but I have been down the path you now walk. Our lives parallel each other in more ways than you may think.

A week before you sent me your letter in June, an old girlfriend came back into my life. Unexpectedly, and uninvited, she sent me a letter asking to see me again. Though hesitant, I agreed to her request as eight years had passed since our last visit and I thought that perhaps she simply wanted to reminisce for old times' sake. However, I soon learned how mistaken my initial assessment had been. She confessed her feelings for me, feelings that I knew nothing about, feelings that she had withheld for eight years. She confessed that despite being married to another man for the past five years, she still thought about me every day and regretted ever saying goodbye, and what's more, she wanted me back in her life. She asked me to be with her again, but I knew that such a union could never be. The man who once loved her is gone, and a new man has taken his place...a man whose heart belongs to another. I knew that I could never ask her back into my heart because I had already given it to someone else, the woman I have fallen in love with...you Ornela.

I debated long and hard about whether or not I should tell you this, but I decided that if I truly loved you as much as I claim, then there could be no secrets between us. This woman, whom I once cared for very deeply, asked me back into her life...and I told her no. A day later you asked me back into your life...and I told you yes, a thousand times yes. The timing was surreal. You are the only woman I want to be with Ornela...you are the only woman I love.

You and I are not like most people Ornela. We are both much more sensitive than others and feel everything very deeply. Such a trait can be a curse because it means that the pain we feel from an emotional loss is much greater than most people can ever realize. It means that we carry our pain internally, our burdens becoming like a great millstone hung around our necks that we feel we must carry alone. I understand this feeling...I truly do.

But this capacity for emotional depth is also a blessing, for it means that we feel love on a level that most people will never experience. It means that we are capable of loving someone completely, unconditionally and without reservation. It also means something else. It means we can give ourselves to someone. That is the secret to love. You can only truly love someone when you have given yourself to them, just as I have given myself to you...just as I hope you will give yourself to me too.

I give part of myself to you every time I write you a love letter. Every letter I write makes me feel so close to you...I only wish I knew if you are still reading this journal. I simply have faith that you are. I have faith that if you are still reading these love letters I write to you, if you are still reading this journal, then it can only be for one reason...because you still love me. Why else would you be here?

Read the letter that you sent me in June again. Do you remember how you felt when you wrote it? You said that you would give us one last chance, a sentiment you echoed when you made me a promise just before we kissed at Logan Airport. Will you give me that chance Ornela? Will you give our relationship a real chance? I would like to ask you something very important, something that I first asked you six years ago, almost to the day:

Ornela, will you go out on a first date with me?

I would like to take you out for dinner and a walk around Boston Common Park. I want to start things out slow and build something special with you over time, the way a real relationship grows and matures. Just a first date, that's all I ask, and where we go from there is up to us.  

Ornela, even if your decision is no, can you please give me an answer?