Page 98 of Rough and Rugged

“It’s my generation. We’re fearless.” She turns and I’m left realizing I’ve been afraid of moosearaptors. Mythical things I invented in my head to justify why I didn’t open these. He wouldn’t write that if he was with her.

The first letter is an old faded Post-it note. The second is a scrap of paper. All of them are marked with random dates since we met. Some are from almost eight years ago. Some from after Rugged. The man of few words has plenty of unspoken ones for me. From the beginning. Some are concise, while others are lengthy but each fill me with joy. Random moments he wanted to share or tell me about. They’re all about me.

The sun right now is lighting up the sky and it’s blush pink like your beautiful breasts.

I don’t love the smell of oranges. Why do you?

The things you make me want to achieve. You make me brave.

You look good in yellow.

My bed is covered with hundreds of multicolored Post-it notes and discarded envelopes. All the thoughts he wouldn’t verbalize.

You’re always with me.

Do you feel the way I gravitate to you?I’m in your orbit all the time.

Fuck. Monica, I’m so desperate for you to know all of me and you just got me coffee. I don’t know how to make the leap from work and friends to putting you in my life where you belong.

As sure as I know anything, I know that I’m yours.

This meeting is boring as shit but you look so pretty.

I’m afraid if I tell you how I feel it would be like popping a balloon we can never re-inflate.

You taste like SweeTarts, and I can’t eat them without getting hard.

Damn, I fucking miss you. I was walking by this lake and you would’ve loved these baby ducks following their mama.

My life is small without you.

There was a moment today where you were picking up the conference room and we locked eyes. Did you feel the glimpse of forever? I’m lost to that feeling right now, unsure how to tell you about it.

Sophie’s nothing. Sometimes I struggle to remember what she sounds like. I could pick your voice out of a chorus of 1000s

Monica, my sweet baby girl. You’ve been lifted out of my life and it’s duller for it.

I picked sweet peas out of a stranger’s yard. They were not happy about it, but I was desperate to smell you.

Hayden smacked your ass today as a joke, and I wanted to cut his hand off. And I was jealous it wasn’t me smacking your ass.

You can’t be on Bette’s side of things in this prank war for advertising dominance. I always want you on my side, and I can’t fucking find the words to tell you.

You’re the reason I get up in the morning and you have zero idea. Also, I hate your boyfriend. So very, very much.

You left my bed and I will never understand why you’re not tucked into my side.

Damn, I want to fuck you.

Tony’s getting married today. I wish I was. You should be here. Where are you, Mon?

It’s easier to say this knowing you’ll never see it. I’m keeping them in case you want to read them someday. Or maybe to remind me that I actually know what love feels like.

I pour over all the messages and then read his book late into the night.

I wake up with a pink Post-It stuck to my face and surrounded by all his love in rainbow neon colors. I write my heart on my own purple sticky note to mail off. I’ve always been good at making things work. I just forgot to turn that skill on myself.

Chapter Thirteen