“…I was devastated when we were through. I didn’t know how to live without you…
…I’ve moved on. We’re over now, I know that…
…I’m with someone else now. He’s better than you. He’s more successful than you. He’s bigger and much better in bed than you…”
My mouth dropped open as I sat there reading the letter. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. This note went on for three pages and was written ten years prior to me first reading it.In 2003 I was sitting at Charlie Brown’s, a little dive restaurant slash coffee house on campus. The décor had not been updated since the late 80’s early 90’s Kerouac poetry coffee house era. The lighting was dim, the seating was crowded, and the stage now was host to extra chairs. The one update to the place was they served food. Very bad food. The only redeeming quality about the place was the thousands of books that lined the walls of this little restaurant. Old, obscure books that most people probably never had heard of. A lot of these books came from the University’s library, as the University library stamp made that obvious. The books were probably purchased or donated from the library when they moved to the new upscale location.
My friend and I were selecting random books off the wall while we waited for our food to come. I stood on my seat to reach books higher up on the wall. I pulled one off the shelf and sat down. I don’t remember anything in particular about the book itself. It was what I found inside the book, pressed between the pages, was a three page letter to Jeff from Monica written in May 1993.
The first paragraph of this post are excerpts taken from the letter. The ones I remember anyway. It was unclear what Jeff did to deserve such a “screw you” type letter, but I’m sure Monica felt better after writing it.
As a person who had been on the receiving end of such type of letter, I must say, I had never been given one written so well and painful to read. This letter, Monica’s letter, shot daggers through my heart. I read it as what every girl who had ever delivered their letter to me intended to say to me but could not quite put the words together as well as Monica had.
By the time I had read Monica’s letter, I had written one such letter myself. I never gave it to the person. I knew whatever I had to say was just a reaction. I had things I wanted to say, things to get off of my chest, but my words would not make a difference to the intended recipient of my letter. So, I kept the letter. That is until I read Monica’s.
I’m guessing Monica felt the same way as I did. She just had to get everything out of her mind, but knew she could never give Jeff the letter. That kind of stuff is permanent. It’s hard to erase. So, Monica wrote her letter and didn’t want to keep it. Everything she wanted to say was out of her mind, now she wanted the letter out of her life.
I was able to picture Monica taking the letter out of her pocket, randomly choosing a book off the shelf, placing her folded three page letter inside the book, returning said book to the shelf and walking off without looking back.
I wanted that type of closure.
I took my letter and did what Monica did, pressed it between pages of some old, obscure book that maybe ten years from then someone would pick up.
I don’t really have a moral to this story. The memory of Monica’s letter popped into my mind this morning. I haven’t thought about Monica’s letter or the one I wrote in a very long time. I know I haven’t thought about it since before I got married. I guess my desired outcome of getting rid of the letter worked.
Now I write on this blog. I don’t get extremely personal on here. There are times when I want to, because I always have stuff on my mind that I want to dump somewhere. I would really like to sometimes. There are things I want to say to certain people if for no other reason than to appease my desire to put a fine point on it. But I don’t.
“…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m hurt. I love you. I still love you. I will always love you, but I know we will never be together again. Goodbye, Monica”
I guess if there is a moral to this it would be, don’t piss Monica off. She can write a really nasty letter that will sting you to the core.
The truth is, I don’t know how Monica’s letter got in that book. I don’t know if she put it there intentionally. It might have been Jeff. Who knows? But, I like to think it happened the way I tell the story. It brought me peace of mind when I needed it the most.
