The Destructive Fire

Dear Mr. Brighteyes,

It was Friday, the 3rd of May, when I saw you for the first time. I always wished I could recount the memory with it being a shiny, warm spring day, but maybe the truth of the stormy, cool night was a way to foreshadow our future.

The rain had turned dangerously torrential and you walked into Della’s 24/7 coffee shop soaked from head to toe. You looked like a wet dog and rain dripped everywhere on the floor. Shoes squeaked with every step, but none of this mattered as I stared into the brightest eyes I had ever seen. Mine, I thought, and from that day forward I did everything in my power to make sure of it.

Once you’d sat down with your warm, black coffee in your hand, I pounced. With no shame I sat across from you at your table and watched as your diamond eyes went wide. I told you my friend and I came to the shop weekly to drink coffee and play cards, but she had gotten stuck in the storm and wouldn’t be able to make it. “Maybe you would like to join me?” I asked. You seemed hesitant, but after reminding you the storm wouldn’t be over for a few hours and even offering to buy you another cup of coffee (only if you had won of course), you agreed.

 We settled on playing war to pass the time. I asked where you were headed in which you answered, “the Ritz” and I laughed until I realized you weren’t joking. It was at that moment I realized the dripping clothes you wore included an expensive tailored suit. I began to nervously giggle and started to wonder if I set my expectations too high. To recover, I asked what you were going to do there, you responded by saying there was an important business meeting. You’re a consultant and spend most of your time traveling for work. Maybe that should have been red flag number two.

After playing and losing three rounds it was time for you to head back onto the road, the rain had finally come to a stop. I wasn’t sure if I’d made a lasting impression until you’d invited me to finish the drive with you to the fancy hotel. This time it was my turn to look up in shock, but I quickly shook it away and followed.

I spent that weekend falling in love with you. From the way your lips and eyes smiled while sharing stories about your life, to how you always made sure to open my doors and push me into my chairs, and from how you touched me in both romantic and unromantic ways. I thought to myself that if I never got to be in your presence again, the feelings of the weekend would stay with me forever and I would never be able to forget. We barely knew each other, yet all weekend I felt safe and loved in your arms. 

When it was time for me to go on Sunday night, I let out a little tear and you wiped it away and said we would see eachother again. After that weekend, we saw each other every time you weren’t on the road for work and it was then when we fell in love with each other for real, at least that’s what you said. 

The sparks never went away for me, but they turned from small sparks of adoration and excitement, to fireworks of worry and distrust. The spark turned into a fire that wouldn’t die. When we first started our love, I trusted the nights you weren’t in my arms. I believed you when you said you had eyes for no one else and couldn’t bear to have anyone else under you. There was no reason not to and the nights you were back in my arms felt like a wildfire just for you and I. 

Three years have gone by since our first night and I cannot hide how much everything has changed since then. The air is not free anymore, it feels tight and cold even with the fire growing around us. Constantly arguing over hidden phones and tiptoeing around you afraid that simply asking, “How was work?” will end in a fight. For the longest time I didn’t have proof, but the fire in my stomach convinced me something was wrong. I held my tears, but the second you’d leave on your “work” trips they’d come pouring out. 

Thursday was my final confirmation that my burning gut was right and it’s time to leave. Amelia Hillgrass mailed a letter, not sure who exactly she is and how she knew OUR address, but she had an urgent message to give. The paternity test for her or should I say your son passed, he is yours. Oh how important threes will be to you today, your baby is three months and our three year relationship has officially been thrown to the fire. All the arguments this past year weren’t for nothing, you played me as a fool thinking I would never catch on to your affairs, but here we are. 

I hid the results until this moment and waited until today, Monday, to reveal them in this letter. Today you are staying at a hotel four hours away, maybe for work, more likely for other things as I pack all my bags and wait for Court to come pick me up. This is my final goodbye and the final pillar to unlocking my freedom once again. I wish you the life you deserve just as I go to find my new deserving life. I have three years to make up for it. I thought our love was real, but I guess the cold and rainy start we got was just the beginning of what was to come.

Mr. Brighteyes, we are still young, 28 year olds, while I want to wish you pain right now, I push onto you hope that this will be the catalyst for change. The fire you bring does not have to be destructive. Don’t let your hurtful actions stay hurtful or they will begin to haunt you for the rest of your life if you don’t stop.

Goodbye Forever,

Alexa