Cara: Letter WritingMature


"Jesus Christ Cara, I'm just down the hall!" Ali appeared in my doorway and peered in.

"I'm stuck."

"Cara, you're an English student in love. Just write a damn love letter."

"It's not supposed to be a love letter. It's supposed to be me apologising for being a complete dick."

"I don't think you realise how much she actually cares about you."

"Used to."



"I think that she's still in love with you." 

I frowned at her from the bed. 

"Have you seen her?"



"Okay okay..." She sighed and came to sit on the bed, rubbing her tummy. "We've kept in touch. She asks me about you sometimes... like how you're doing..."

"You're lying."

"Cara...I don't think you understand. She... I... She misses you alright? She's incredibly angry at you and disappointed and upset but she still loves you, or else she wouldn't keep checking on you."

I couldn't help the tear that ran down my cheek. 

"I miss her. I really do.  I didn't know she was checking up on me."

"So what're you going to do?"

"I have to write the letter. I can't see her now; she's still away as far as I know." I glanced at Ali in case she knew different. 

"She doesn't come back until the day after next."

"You really have kept in touch."

"I always thought you chose well, even if I was upset at first. I like her."

"Maybe she was the one who didn't choose well."

"Cara..." Ali wrapped her arm around me. "You made a mistake. Sure it was a gigantic and stupid mistake. But everyone deserves a second chance. Even if you only manage friendship."

"You're going to be a good mum Ali." 

"I know." She shrugged and then laughed. "I don't know... sometimes I think I'm going to fail and then I realise there's no way I could be worse than my mum. And I have Jak, and you  guys... we'll be great." 

"Definitely." I rubbed her back comfortingly. 

"Well, I'm going to let you get on with writing. Make it good."

"I'll try."

Ali went out smiling and I returned to staring at the notepad in front of me. I wanted to draft it out before I wrote the whole thing. 

Dear Sam,

First of all I have to tell you that I don't expect you to read this. I think you'll recognise my handwriting and throw it straight in the shredder. But if you do read on, I want to tell you I'm sorry. I know that it's been a while, and I know that you may not want to hear from me. I have to try though. I have to because I miss you. I feel like the absence of you fills every moment of my day. I miss your smile, the way you held me, the way you looked at me. I miss your eyes, I miss your lips, I miss your jokes, your random thoughts, your shirts and blazers and waistcoats and the way they fit you so perfectly. I miss the soft way you spoke when you weren't mad at me. I miss how you touched me, I miss the soft kisses you'd give me after sex when we were just lying there as close as possible. I miss your tea. I miss everything about you. I've realised that no matter how afraid I was, how sudden everything seemed, how deeply committed to me you were and how much that scared me when I thought you would lose me... I was an idiot Sam. I was too wrapped up in everything and trying to protect you from... well from me. And I know that it sounds like an excuse. It sounds like a poor excuse. But I wasn't thinking. I was scared. I was angry. I was depressed. None of that excuses what I did to you. I know I'm past all forgiveness, but I wanted to tell you that if there is any chance of us ever talking again, being friends, because that's all I dare hope for after everything, please let me know. Let me apologise in person. Let me see you again, even if the only thing in your eyes is loathing. I want to apologise properly, I want another chance. I need another chance. But I won't take it if you don't want to give it. You're worth fighting for but I don't want to hurt you any more. Everything is in your hands; I present myself to you. Say your worst, do your worst. I deserve everything you throw at me. 

But please, if you think you could give me another chance at being in your life, however small the part... Please give me that chance. I am so sorry.




I wrote it up neatly on some beautiful writing paper I'd gotten for my birthday, and slipped it in to an envelope. I grabbed my jacket and boots, keys, phone and earphones, and headed out. It was a brisk ten minute walk to Pieces, and I made my way to the back alley and up the steps to the door. I paused, looking down at the envelope. Had I said enough? I'd rambled. But I just wanted it all out there. Quickly I pushed the letter through the post box and turned my back on the door, taking a deep breath. 

At least I'd written to her. I'd put my apology in to the open. I just hoped she'd take it. 

The End

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