September 30th
Dear Mom,
How did he know?
I can remember the look in his eyes while he sat next to me studying the sunset and allowing me the silent presence of another person. I knew at the time he could tell there was something wrong, but the extent of his kindness... I was so blind.
I regret not talking to him, not acknowledging his presence just a little more. I should have taken the advice of the imaginary you in my head and given him a chance.
I called him last night after spending the last few days mostly staying in my trailer, writing in my journal. I know I’m altogether too introspective, but I don’t want to call him just so I can have another human to depend on. I can’t expect him to heal all my brokenness, and it wouldn’t be fair to put that pressure on him or anyone else.
But I did call him. I’ll write down the conversation here because it was short and to the point.
Him: “Hello?”
Me: “Jasper?”
Him: “Yes?”
Me: “I don’t know if you remember me, but you gave me a hexaflexagon in June on the bluff above Nye Beach?”
I know my voice was quavering with nerves at this point, so I wasn’t surprised by his response.
Him: “Are you okay?”
I took a deep breath, trying not to cry.
Me: “I just wanted to thank you for giving me your words. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you about it.”
Him: “You’re welcome.” (Pause) “Are you okay?”
I stifled a laugh at his persistence.
Me: “Your words helped.”
Him: “I’m glad.”
Me: “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. Sorry to bother you.”
Then I hung up.
It was such a stupid move I immediately started crying. I feel like that’s all I’ve done for months and even the thought of shedding another tear is enough to make me angry.
Before I could start castigating myself though, my phone lit up with an incoming call from an Oregon number.
We talked for another hour, words interspersed with comforting silences. “Quaker Silences” as I’ve heard them called. I don’t think I’ve ever been on the phone with a man before who was willing to just sit in silence, letting the words settle before continuing the conversation.
He told me about the words in the hexaflexagon. He wrote them, after I left his workplace, and when he saw me return that night he folded the hexaflexagon to give to me.
He says it was the most impulsive thing he’s ever done and he was terrified of how I’d react. He was terrified of me? Ridiculous, though now I see where he was coming from because he is kind.
Jasper is the sort of man you bring home to meet your mother, and I’m frightened of the way I feel after one good conversation with him.
I will just have to keep reminding myself I don’t know him. That although he is handsome and flirty, and more than anything else kind, I need to learn how to live with myself before dragging anyone down with me.
I’m trying so hard to be the woman you raised me to be and I know I’m failing in so many ways. I hope in this one way you can look down and be proud of me.
I love you,
Bo
It feels like the last five months has been night, interspersed by the light of the stars. I've been moving forward, searching always for the slow fade of dawn, but it hasn't come. I know grief is this way, walking in darkness till you realize in a sudden moment that the sun's been shining all around you.
If I have to wait in the dark, I think maybe Jasper's my moon. And I hear myself. I know I'm attaching way too much importance to a man I've met twice and talked to once.
I know all these things, but I'm clinging to the life preserver while the flotsam of my life floats around me threatening to crush everything I have left.
So to future Bo, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for stumbling around in the dark and bruising every part of my soul. I hope you're in a better place where the sun shines and you're not too afraid to talk and build good things with all the pretty people in your life.
I hope I haven't ruined people for you by hiding away in my twilit cage. I'm sorry that you'll probably look back and be disappointed by all the places you didn't visit because I'm too tired and can't get up the energy to go.
But I hope you have grace for me now. I'm sorry to dwell in the dark, but I'm just holding on, waiting for the light to come.