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February 14, 2011
Dear Ava,
To avoid sounding really pathetic, this letter will be short. I fucking love you and I always will, whether you’re here or not. Happy Valentine’s Day. Nate.
P.S. Edith from next door gave me a bottle of whiskey to drown my sorrows, and of course it reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you.
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March 14, 2011
Dear Ava,
I got desperate the other day and tried to think of ploys to get a response from you. I thought I could say that you gave me an STD or that I had secret information that the world was coming to an end and that we needed to be together.
We need to be together. It’s been so long. I lied in my letter back in January. I actually stole that picture of you and your mom that you sent to Trish. I had to. I’m looking at it now and I’m remembering the way the sun made your brown eyes look green. I’m remembering how you felt in my bed.
Our house is done if you want to end this torture and come back to me.
The weddings last month went well except for the fact that it seemed like everyone around me was in love and I was just alone. I thought my best man speech would have been a good opportunity to get back at Frankie and prank him but instead of telling a joke I went into a long, sorrowful oration on lost love and broken hearts. People were in tears by the end of it so I had to lighten the mood by saying, “May Frankie and Emily never know those sad truths. To many years of marital bliss and lots of little Frankies running around!” Everyone clapped but I just headed for the bar, downed a few whiskeys, and went into the bathroom, severely drunk, and wept to a banquet server on his break. I’m sounding really pathetic again. Get your sweet ass back here, Avelina. I want to love you now.
I heard that song, “I Need My Girl” by The National today and how could it not remind me of you? Then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.
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April 14, 2011
Dear Ava,
Hi, beautiful. Two more months until I see you. I hope I’m not being delusional. Sometimes it all seems unreal; the brief move to Montana, finding you in Spain, holding you in my arms, all of it. Did it even happen?
I knew you had to heal and be on your own, I get that now, but I haven’t heard anything about you. I don’t even know if you’re safe. Trish and Bea said last they heard you were living with roommates in Madrid but that you haven’t checked in for a while. I didn’t know you were moving to Madrid. I feel lost, Ava. I don’t know what to do except wait.
I was in surgery for twenty-one hours yesterday. I saved a life with my hands but I felt nothing afterward. I was relieved, of course, but I just wanted to share it with someone. I wanted to share it with you but you’re not here. I’ve been at home today, resting and reading. I found an equestrian center in Burbank, which isn’t too far from here, where we can board Shine if you wanted to bring her back here. I know you said you were done with the horses but if it feels more like home to have her close by, then we can do it. The only way this place will feel like home for me is if you’re here.
Today at the hospital I heard a story of a man who died exactly one day after his wife’s funeral. They were married for fifty-six years. He died of sudden adult death syndrome, a cardiac condition that can be triggered by stress. It’s often referred to as the broken heart syndrome. I had heard of it but was skeptical until someone told me his story. They were each other’s best friend and a true example of lifelong love. When she was dying, he promised he would come to her soon and he did, but he made sure that she was buried before he let go. He took care of her all the way to the very end. It seems morbid to think about but that’s what I want to do for you. I want to take care of you. I want us to take care of each other until the end. The story reminded me of you, but then again everything reminds me of you. Nate.
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May 14, 2011
Dear Ava,