My Dearest Y

Dear Y,

Happy Birthday.

I hate that I can't be there with you, hate that I'm too broke to even pay my rent by myself this month, much less buy you a present. Hopefully, I can get you something before I see you again, but that's not that point.

Of course, I don't even know if you'd want me there or not. Sometimes I think I'm just selfishly forcing my company onto you, while you awkwardly deal with me the best way you can and get rid of me as soon as is politely possible, like someone would do with a crazy old aunt or something. But maybe that's just paranoia talking again.

Let's talk about something else.

Do you remember when you turned 21? It was on a Monday, I think. You were taking summer classes, and that Monday and Tuesday were the days that you were taking your finals. At least I think so, anyway. My memory is going in my old age.

But once Wednesday arrived, it was on and popping. You, me, and L. partied non-stop Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday to celebrate your 21st birthday. It was a different bar every night. Wednesday, Pelham's. Thursday, The Sports Nut. Friday, the strip in Anniston--The Crimson Tiger, The Office, The Smoking Moose. And Saturday, the place that eventually became our go-to place for every celebration, for every bored weekend night, and, of course, for every heartache--A.J.'s.

I have to go right by A.J.'s every month when I go to pay my rent. I paid my rent today, so I saw it again. It doesn't have quite the allure during the daytime that it does at night. Of course, I haven't been inside since you, me, and L. went for your 24th birthday (a couple of weeks late) back in 2010. Everything had already changed by then, but I guess we were all trying desperately to pretend it hadn't. You were in the process of moving on to a different life. You weren't even living in the apartment with me anymore. L. was disappearing inside herself with her unhappy marriage. And me? I was sitting at the top of the highest hill on a roller coaster named Insanity, suspended in that one moment before everything lets go and the cars crash down in free-fall to the bottom.

I still have pictures. I was still growing out that horrendous haircut. You were wearing one of your purple-and-green print shirts. (Your favorite colors. Are they still your favorites? I feel eaten up with guilt inside because I don't even know the answer to that question anymore.) I was wearing fake eyelashes; and one of them never quite stuck on right, and it was pretty obvious. I knew it then. I just didn't give a shit.

I think we had fun. Did we? I know I didn't drink very much because I'm the one who drove back home. I only remember that because we got stuck in a license check going up the mountain on Greenbrier, which APD had set up in hopes of making some drunk driving arrests on people leaving the bars. We were in L.'s car. I was driving, she was riding shotgun, and you were giggling in the backseat. I showed the cop my license and L.'s insurance card. He asked us who'd been drinking, and you leaned forward from the backseat and squealed, "Me! It's my birthday!" The cop kinda chuckled, handed our stuff back to us, told us to be careful, and waved us on through.

So, yeah, I guess we had fun. How the fuck I ended up being the one who was safest for driving, God only knows. There is a certain kind of irony in that.

I haven't been back there since. I haven't been to any bar since, actually. For someone whose entire vocation for years was binge-drinking, it's quite an accomplishment.

I could say that I haven't gone because I saw the error of my ways or some such bullshit, but I'd be lying. (And what use is it to lie here?) I haven't gone to any of them--and especially that one in particular--because it just won't be the same without you.

You have no idea how proud I am of you. You knew what you wanted in life. You weathered the hardships starting out, and then you made yourself into what you wanted to be. We've all changed since then. Some of the changes have been for the better, and some for the worse. But regardless, I admire you for knowing what you wanted and doing what you had to do to get it.

But I've changed, too. Sometimes, I wish you could see it. But then maybe you do see it. I don't know. Maybe, no matter who I am, I just really don't have any place in your life anymore. I wish I did. I wish like hell that I did. But maybe I don't. I don't know.

Regardless, though, despite all that's happened in our lives, all the changes we've gone through, and all the bullshit we've endured, I never stopped loving you. Not even once. Not for a single second. I won't tell you this because I'm not going to guilt-trip you, but I love you more than anything in this whole world and always have, even when I made you feel like I didn't. I'm so sorry for all that I put you through, and I know I'll never be able to make it up to you.

I want to say that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. But prudence says that I shouldn't force myself into your space, into your life, just to assuage my guilt. I have used you like a crutch for much too long, and it made you hate me. I don't blame you. I hate me, too. It wasn't right. It just...wasn't. There's no way to justify it.

But still, I will always be here for you, every moment of every day. I'm trying to stay in the shadows as much as I can, but all I need from you is one word to come bounding out again, sword in hand, armor flashing, to fight off whatever dragon that you need slain. Or maybe I'll just be some weirdo in a tinfoil suit flailing around with a baseball bat, but perhaps it'll at least make you laugh.

Live. Laugh. Enjoy your birthday and every day of the rest of your life. In your darkest times, remember that you are loved beyond compare--not just by me but by many others. And if ever you need me, keep in mind that I am always lurking in the shadows, Louisville Slugger in tow.

Love,
Bunny