She asked me, near the end, to find you if I could.
I stopped reading and looked at Douglas.
“She knew?”
“She knew I never stopped wondering about you.”
“What did she say?”
“That if I died without apologizing, she would haunt me.”
A tear slipped down his cheek.
“She was a practical woman.”
“She sounds like it.”
“She was.”
I returned to the letter.
I wanted to tell you that the promise we made beneath the bleachers was real to me, even when I failed it. But I no longer want to ask you to live inside that promise. You gave me more of your life than I had any right to receive without being present.
If you can forgive me, I will be grateful.
If you cannot, I will understand.
The only thing I hope you believe is this: you were never second in my heart. You were the first person who taught me what it meant to be known.
