Eventually, I had to look up because Nate didn’t respond. He had a sort of regretful half-smile on his face that held no real amusement, and he cocked his head slightly to the side like a confused dog. “Your letter sure didn’t make it sound like you missed me.”
“I was angry. You just left. We talk for months about how we’re going to video chat every night and visit each other whenever we can to make the distance work, and then you just leave? How could I not be angry?”
“I know you were angry, and you had a right to be, but I thought you would understand. You lost your father too, and you know how I could go a week without seeing my mom because she worked so much, and I had school.” Nate looked genuinely hurt, and for a moment, that anger and betrayal ran red hot in my veins once again. What right did he have to feel hurt?
As much as I wanted to snap at Nate, I didn’t. I took a sip of water to cool myself down, thought about what he said, and the beginnings of realization punctured my bubble of emotions. Did I not have the whole story? Nate’s words about his mom and dad sounded out of place, almost like they were back up for an argument he never made.
“I don’t understand what you wanted me to understand,” I said carefully, trying to approach this like the adult I had become and not hot-headed, high school Tammy.
Nate stared at me. “All the stuff in the letter. I don’t remember exactly what I said anymore. It was a long time ago.”
It was my turn to stare. “Stuffyouwrote? You didn’t write anything. I sentyoua letter. And I’m sorry about that, by the way,” I said, finally apologizing for something that had been bothering me for years. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”
Nate seemed far less concerned with my apology than getting to the bottom of this odd gap in communication. “I did write you a letter,” Nate insisted. “After my mom gave me yours when she came to the dorm to drop some things off. There was a post office right next to the campus, and I mailed it from there.”
I didn’t know what to think or even if I believed this. “Okay? Then why didn’t I get it?”
“I don’t know, but I know I sent it.” Either Nate had taken an acting class at the U of K and learned to lie very well, or he had really tried to respond to my absolutely brutal hate note. What did that mean for the past years? I spent so long hating him… had I been the one in the wrong the whole time?
“What did it say?” I asked, both suspicious and curious.
Nate shrugged. “You know, a lot of touchy-feely and from-the-heart stuff. Like I said, I don’t remember exactly. I had to say goodbye to my dad when he left my mom and didn’t want me in his life anymore, and then it felt like all I did was say goodbye to Mom because she always worked. When school was about to start…” Nate shrugged again, something I knew from the past that he often did when he felt uncomfortable. “I knew the goodbye wasn’t supposed to be permanent, but I didn’t know if a long distance relationship would work. So, I didn’t say goodbye. I just left. Then I got your note, sent you a response, and never heard from you again until Zeke’s wedding.”
“Well…” I trailed off, completely confused by this new development. “I’m sorry, I guess. I really never got that letter. I thought you didn’t want to give long distance a try and didn’t have the spine to break up with me face to face,” I told him bluntly.
“Ouch. But no, that wasn’t it.” Nate reached across the table and took my hand in his. “I swear that the letter was real, and I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have left the way I did.”
I left our fingers intertwined, relishing the warmth of his calloused palm. “Can we be friends again?” I asked like we were two children who had just gotten into a silly fight over a toy.
“Definitely.” Nate gave my hand a squeeze, sent me a quick wink and that was that.
Finally, after years and years, we had closed the door to the past and opened another that led to the future - a future of friendship, communication and, judging by our interlocked hands, perhaps something more.
