Page 172 of Ghost Ribbon

Suddenly it was all dark.

III

Part 3

Find me in the stars

when you can no longer find me beside you.

I will hide among their dying light,

waiting for your gaze to wander upward.

And when you whisper my name into the dark,

I will look back at you,

as though the distance between heaven and earth

was never enough to keep me from you.

la stella della speranza

To Alexei,

I wish you never had to read this. I wish this letter could stay folded between the pages of my notebook forever, gathering dust beneath all the little pieces of you I kept there. I wish these words could remain unread and unnecessary, that you and I could grow old together, that I could complain about your stupid habits when we’re eighty and still fall asleep with my head against your chest.

But if you’re reading this, then I’m probably dying.

Or maybe I already did.

You must be in pain. I know you are, and there is nothing in this world I hate more than knowing you are hurting while I am somewhere you cannot reach. I wish I could be there. I would give anything to reach through whatever separates us now, to put my hands against your face, catch every tear, press my forehead to yours, and tell you that it’s okay. That I’m okay. That this pain, as endless as it feels right now, is not the end of your story.

I am sorry. I’m sorry my heart wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry the body I was given was broken before you ever found me. I’m sorry you loved someone who was always running out of time. I’m sorry you gave your heart to someone whose heart was already failing, someone who let you build an entire world around him knowing he might not be there to stay inside it.

I should regret you. I should regret that rooftop, that first night, every moment I let you come closer, every time I let you touch me, every time I let myself fall asleep in your arms and wake up beside you. I should regret every beautiful thing because every beautiful thing eventually became something you would have to remember without me.

But I don’t.

And maybe that’s selfish. Actually, no. It is selfish.

I’ve never been very good at taking. I was taught to be grateful for whatever I was given. I learned early that love was something you earned, care was something you repaid, and taking was something you only did when you had nothing left to give.

But I took so much from you.

I took your time, your sleep, your peace, your attention. I took your kitchen and your bed and your bathroom and your apartment until every corner of your life started carrying pieces of me. I took your hands, your mouth, your warmth.

And worst of all, I took your heart.

And I filled it with me.

I took, and I took, and I took, and the most terrible thing I can confess is that I wouldn’t give any of it back.

Not one second. Not one touch. Not one kiss. Not one night. Not even the moments that hurt. Because they were mine. They were ours. And you were the one thing I ever allowed myself to be selfish about.

I wanted you.

God, Alexei, I wanted you. I wanted you the way I wanted the stars when I was a child - knowing I could never reach them, but looking anyway. And somehow, impossibly, I got you.