Letters with love: I want my time back with you
Photo courtesy of Martamenchini / Wikimedia Commons
After a relationship ends, it may be hard to cope with the loss of someone you loved.
Sometimes they come back to you. You must consider: is it worth taking them back?
Dear Aiden,
I encountered you during an April shower. We were all heading to our monthly grocery run, and I had just gotten my cast taken off. It was quite itchy, really; I’d wake up several times a night in hives, digging and scraping the thinnest layer of skin over and over again until it was slightly red.
You were handsome as ever. You wore a thick, soft dark gray hoodie with black cargo jeans. Your facial hair was coming in; instead of the patchy stubble and mustache, you graduated. I wonder if your arms feel sore after your workouts. I turned my head sharply; that was close— you almost saw me.
I’ve been seeing the rumors online, the ones calling me a stalker; that I stalked Big. Well, I didn’t; he was the one who stalked me, if anything. He pursued me, knowing I loved Aiden. Yet he came back to me.
I wasn’t looking for Aiden; I came to the grocery store to pick up a 12-pack of Diet Pepsi. The girls and I are watching the Minecraft (2025) movie tonight.
I’ll admit, cheating on Aiden with Mr. Big was not a good decision on my end. I should’ve stopped and thought about the consequences closely. I hurt someone real badly. I care about them, and yet I still hurt them. But I loved him— I loved every part of you, Aiden. I’m sorry for everything, everything.
I turned left, heading into the phone section. You were in the sauce aisle, looking at barbecue sauce, when you’re typically a honey mustard kind of guy. The bright red Coca-Cola box peeked through the railed shopping cart, its plastic red net of consumerism.
Stores aren’t selling Android chargers anymore. Not the USB-C chargers, the kind that looked like a trapezoid. The trapezoid charger —made for the Android— the charger used for your headphones, speaker, air diffuser, maybe a vibrator— who knows?
Nowadays, stores just lock everything up behind a glass cage, as if all their products are items of perfection, of ethical practice. The worst part of shopping is requesting someone to open the cage for you— are you allowed to shop individually these days? Are we not to trust and persuade the consumer?
“Carrie,” you called out; my throat closed, and I felt your scent travel through my nose. You were five feet away, yet the smell of Yves Saint Laurent traveled through. You embraced me in a hug, excited to see me. Me, of all people, Aiden? The woman who cheated on you? “How have you been?” you ask. Your hair is longer, I couldn't tell from afar. I will tell you about the grant I’ve secured for my job, my career shift from journalism to teaching Communications, and of course, I mentioned the raise. I found myself unwinding, grounding my left foot on the ground and supporting the right. The conversation lasted about ten minutes, but that was all I needed.
You invited me to dinner at the San Marzano, which is ironic because that was our second date, and this is the third year anniversary of that date, and we’re having dinner on May 4. Well, may the fourth be with you, too.
I wake up to the sound of April showers, the alarm clock sharply ringing. There are no cans of produce, no tubes of barbecue and mustard, just the window leading out to the street. I look at the home screen— it says 4:00 AM, and it sounds like a hurricane outside. As I wondered what my dreams were trying to tell me, they somehow pointed back to the idea of foreshadowing what unraveled earlier. I hope that’s not true.
Sincerely,
Carrie Bradshaw