Malena sat by herself at a small cafe on a warm summer evening, she chose a small round table next to a bay window, the last rays of sunlight seeped through the clouds. Leaving a warm yellowish trail across the blue sky. A summery breeze plays with her long dark hair, bringing the smell of gardenias with it. Her long red dress follows the curves of her full hips. As she inhales the warm sweet smell of gardenias, she goes back to her letter. Should she mail it? Maybe she would just burn it, or something corny like that. She fiddles with her black pen, her right hand cupped behind her neck, and she continues to write.
My dearest Rafael,
I’ve been staring at this page trying to think about how to start. Or even if I’ll show you this letter. Then I figured I’d just tell you that I didn’t really know what to say. I wanted to avoid an awkward start. We usually can’t avoid those, mainly because I’m weird and partly because you are too. It was one of the things I loved about us…
I wanted to tell you that I don’t blame you for anything, things got weird and we fell apart. We didn’t know how else to work together, how to pull to the same side. These things just happen, maybe you were right, we were still too immature to handle what we were trying to build. Truth is these things are not just one person’s fault, and they do not happen overnight. I have come to learn that sometimes things just fall apart and that’s ok, we keep the good memories, let go of the bad ones; we start again.
I also wanted to say thank you, thank you for everything we shared. All of it, the good and the bad; even the ugly. Thank you for being there for me, for spoiling me, for putting up with my craziness. Thank you for trying so hard to make me happy when I had no idea how to be happy on my own. I’m sorry for all the hardship we put each other through. Thank you for all the time we spent together, all the experiences shared. Thank you for bringing me into your beautiful family, for teaching me how to write a check, about cars and bikes; for venturing in the kitchen with me… Thank you for our lazy Sundays –when we were able to have them– for staying in bed until noon. Our bodies gossiping for countless hours, enjoying each other’s’ souls…
I miss you often, what we had… I miss knowing how you are, seeing your smile, your deep brown eyes… Overall, and to this day, I miss our friendship… I’d like to know that you’re well and happy. I want you to be happy.
I picture you getting uncomfortable as you read this, emotions are always a challenge to you. My intention is far from doing you harm or trying to make you feel uncomfortable.
I just had to tell you –regardless of how long it has been– thank you for the adventure we shared together. Thank you for sharing your beautiful soul with me, for taking the time to create the magical moments we managed to create; even within all the negativity that surrounded us…
Lastly, I wanted to remind you to not inhibit yourself from everything that you are capable of, you have the potential to achieve everything you set your mind to. I have always seen it, I hope you allow yourself to see it too. Though things are a blur and you may be “re-routing”, don’t sell yourself short and lose sight of who you can be.
Good-bye, my love, my best friend, my ex-husband, you will always have a place in my heart and a piece of my soul will always be yours…
As she wrote the last words on her paper chest –she was determined to let go of it all– she felt a tear sliding down her left cheek. She reached out with her right hand and wiped it off. She let out a deep sigh. As Malena stared out to the busy avenue, her eyes were almost yellow in the buttery sunlight of the evening, she got lost observing the people that walked absentmindedly down the sidewalk. Most of them on their phones, some of them talking to other people. She could hear the loud chatter of the busy restaurants, the noise of the cars driving by. And yet the sweet memories of her first love made her smile quietly, she would keep and treasure those. She would remember his deep brown eyes fondly.
Malena closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the evening on her face. Warming up her body. Warming up her soul. She would go to the ocean. Stand at the shore. Dig her toes into the wet sand. Feel the sand in between her toes, up to her ankles. Let the water surround her. Nurture her soul.
She took the letter and held it to the candle on the center of the table, once the paper caught fire she put it down on the empty plate she had asked for –just in case she decided to burn the letter– and watched it burn. She liked the sweet smell of burning paper. There, she said what she had to say. Her words incinerated to ashes, her emotions renewed. She reassured the nervous waiter, nothing was wrong, she just burned a chapter of her life. He gawked at her beautiful smile, unable to say much. She thanked the waiter for the tea –on the house–, got up and headed east. She walked toward the beach, she could feel her heart longing for the salty breeze and the freshness of the water. The waiter watched her walk away, enchanted by the swing of her hips. The wind blew away the last pieces of burnt paper, with them, Malena’s torment.
An incurable passion for writing; a poet at heart. I am a writer on the road.