November 9: A Novel

It took four years for me to fall in love with him.

It only took four pages to stop

In her darkness, she is silent.

In my darkness, she screams.

I’m not finished falling in love with you yet.

lies were written, I would erase them

But they are spoken; etched within

With convalesced truth, I scream out my atonement

Let me repent against your skin.

part of you capable of forgiving me, you know where I’ll be. Tonight, next year, the next, for eternity.

I know I said in my previous letter that I didn’t write this for your forgiveness. While that’s the truth, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not praying on my knees for your forgiveness, hoping for a miracle. I’m not going to act like I won’t be sitting at the restaurant for hours upon end, hoping you walk through those doors. Because that’s exactly where I’ll be. And if you don’t show up today, I’ll be there next year. And the next. Every November 9th I’ll wait for you, hoping one day you’ll be able to find enough forgiveness to love me again. But if that doesn’t happen and you never show, I’ll still be grateful to you until the day that I die.

You saved me the day we met, Fallon. I know I was only eighteen, but my life would have turned out so different had we not spent that time together. The first night we had to say goodbye, I drove straight home and started writing this book. It became my new life goal. My new passion. I took college more seriously. I took life more seriously. And because of you and the impact you had on my life, the last two years I spent with Kyle were great ones. When he died, he was proud of me. And that means more to me than you will ever know.

I know I said in my previous letter that I didn’t write this for your forgiveness. While that’s the truth, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not praying on my knees for your forgiveness, hoping for a miracle. I’m not going to act like I won’t be sitting at the restaurant for hours upon end, hoping you walk through those doors. Because that’s exactly where I’ll be. And if you don’t show up today, I’ll be there next year. And the next. Every November 9th I’ll wait for you, hoping one day you’ll be able to find enough forgiveness to love me again. But if that doesn’t happen and you never show, I’ll still be grateful to you until the day that I die.

I’ve never loved someone I hate so much, and I’ve never hated someone I love so much.

Fallon,

I’ve spent most of my life preparing to write something as important as this letter. But for the first time, I don’t feel like the English language has developed enough letters in the alphabet to adequately express the words I want to say to you.

When you left last year, you left with my soul in your hands and my heart in your teeth, and I knew I would never get either of them back. You can keep them, I don’t really need them anymore.

I’m not writing this letter in hopes that you will forgive me. You deserve better. You always have. Nothing I can say would ever make my feet worthy enough to walk on the same ground you walk upon. Nothing I can do would ever make my heart worthy enough to share a love with yours.

I’m not asking you to seek me out. I’m just asking that you read the words on the pages in this box in hopes that it can allow you, and maybe even me, to walk away from this with as little damage as possible.

You may not believe me, but all I want is for you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I’ll do anything to make that happen for you, even if it means helping you to forget me.

The words you’re about to read have never been read by anyone but you, nor will they ever be read by anyone but you. This is the only copy. You can do whatever you want with it when you’re finished. And I know you owe me nothing, but I’m not asking you to read this manuscript for me. I want you to read it for yourself. Because when you love someone, you owe it to them to help them be the best version of themselves that they can be. And as much as it crushes me to admit this, the best version of you doesn’t include me.

Ben

as much as it crushes me to admit this, the best version of you doesn’t include me.