Lorelai,Post backdated to 12th October 2015
I’ve never been good at writing letters.
For the most part I can attribute it to not having the practice. Sure, writing to people was kind of the thing to do even before emails and text messages. It was something you might have done to a distant relative or if you didn’t have access to a phone, conveying whatever message you needed in verses rather than speech.
The only time I might have written letters was when I was in juvenile detention back in Italy, but the problem was always the same: I had no one to write to and so I just didn’t.
You haven’t met my blood relatives yet and there’s a good reason for that. If they were or are living, it’s probably because they are too ******* stubborn to die and either way, they’re not the type of people you want to have a friendly chat with. And where friends count, I’ve probably only ever had the one anyway. You’ve met him as it happens.
I’ve never been good at writing letters, Lori, but I can read them really well.
I don’t know if you’ll hate me for this, but I read your letter to Leo. You left it on the dresser and I’m nosey. I’m a lot of things. A lot of shitty things. I could probably tell you that I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy, but I wouldn’t want to lie to you. I’m trying to stop doing that as it happens.
You have no idea how hard this is, going against my very nature to suspect every single person of every dark deed imaginable. What makes it worse is, I’ve seen so much and done so much that I can imagine a whole hell of a lot. I know it’s not fair to accuse you, but when I know you lie to me, it makes it harder and harder not to suspect you’re lying about other things, different things, more dangerous things.
But that’s my problem and not yours. And that’s why I wanted to write this for you. The secrets that you’ve kept from me, about the pregnant woman and about your issue with that other side of you, well it could have been a hell of a lot worse. Let me tell you.
These secrets you think are so terrible are dandelions compared to the manure pile and rotting cesspool of my expectations. If I were you, I wouldn’t be ashamed of them. If I wanted something badly enough, I would take it – one way or another. I know we can’t have children now, not in the traditional sense, but we can talk about our options. You and me this time. Together. Hopefully.
As for the other thing. We can figure something out about that too. Just let me know what you want to do and we will get there.
Because I also know you’re better at writing letters and emails than you are at saying what you want to say. I remember how you get tongue-tied and frightened when speaking to me face-to-face. You’re not alone there. A lot of people piss their pants around me. I know I can be intense and unpredictable, but more often than not, volatile.
Believe it or not, I don’t want to be that person to you. I’m just too used to being that person in general. When we met I kept you at arm’s length because I knew I would terrify you, or hurt you, but most likely both. Weird as it sounds, I think from the minute I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you. I was just too stupid and obnoxious to realise it and far too proud to accept it even when I eventually did.
Things are different now and maybe it’s moving too quickly, but I feel like I have to make up for lost time in a lot of ways. I kept you in limbo for far too long and I understand why you might not trust me because of that, including who and what I am. But I do want you to trust me and I don’t want you to be afraid of confiding in me. I’m not going anywhere and I won’t abandon you. Not now. Not ever. Not unless you want me to.
So if you want to talk, you can always write to me. Leave me a letter or an email, or even a text message if you need to. It might not be conventional, but if it works for us, then I don’t care.
I think you’re making the right decision in writing to Leo, by the way. If it helps you find peace, amore. I encourage you to continue.
Ti amerò per sempre, Lorelai.
I will love you forever.
Regards,
Levi.