This one is based off of Ashley Kutcher's Love You More - give it a listen while you read if you want the full experience!
Climbing out of his car, Steve sighs. Describing the day as long is the ultimate understatement. In the world of being a school nurse, being busy with the weirdest stuff is one of the job descriptions. Sometimes, a handful of a very few, rare days, Steve is fed up with it.
Darcy Monroe coming in at first bell starts off the madness – she’s been on the playground digging in the dirt again, Steve knows that before the messy girl says anything. Her fingernails are covered in a mixture of blood and the red till that sits right below the grass’s surface. The tears in her eyes are no match for the look of triumphant Steve still can’t help but laugh at.
Next of the day is Tommy Shaw, a boy who is a chronic manipulator, trying to convince Steve of his broken leg despite hopping up and down on it. It’s annoying in the same way a fly buzzing near an ear is. Steve lets him sit on the stool to explain himself long enough for the boy to get the break he’s seeking. Pointing him back to class is easier when a lollipop makes its way into the equation.
The worst comes right at the end of the day – Stuart Doyle is gushing blood across his forehead when he makes his way into Steve’s office. There are a couple other kids by his side that look both guilty and concerned. It’s then that he realizes his job for the day is far from over.
Steve lets them sit by Stuart’s side while he puts on a band aid and calls the kid’s mom. Though Steve is a certified nurse with a master’s degree in the subject, he’s not able to do stitches.
When that’s settled, he writes the kids up and sends them back to class two minutes before the final bell rings. It’s then that Stuart’s mom shows up and the fun really begins.
It’s hell to get the situation explained and the bulk of the necessary paperwork filled out – by the time he’s done, there are no other cars in the school parking lot aside from Mrs. Doyle’s. The walk to his Civic is just as lonely as Steve is. For some reason, that weighs a little heavier than usual. Maybe he’s just tired.
While he’s relieved to be back home after a long and trying day, Steve can’t help but feel an ache when he looks at his empty house. There’s dinner to be made and tv to be watched, but that’s all. There’s nothing more to look forward to. Family Night with Robin and Chrissy is on Friday and it’s only Tuesday.
Determined to distract himself, Steve heads to the mailbox at the end of his driveway. It’s been a few days since he last collected it, so he knows it’s close to being full. He compiles the stack and tucks it into the messenger bag at his hip. Knowing his luck, he’ll drop half of it on the way to the door if he doesn’t take the proper precautions.
Steve dumps off his bag by the coffee table as he treads through the living room. A change of clothes is calling his name. Though it’s a perk to wear scrubs all day, Steve hates the scrape of them against his skin after so many hours. His trusty Hawkins High basketball shorts are soft and worn in, their presence so very familiar on his skin. He feels a little better after settling into a soft hoodie and some long socks to finish off the comfy outfit.
There’s a second of pillaging the fridge for a snack and making tea before Steve sits down on the couch. He grabs his bag once some mindless shows been turned on to fill up the silence of his empty house. When he first bought the three bedroom, Steve had hopes of filling it with laughter and love and enough kids to brighten up the spare rooms. Now, it’s a reminder of all the things that aren’t his anymore.
Pushing that thought aside, Steve turns his attention to the bills and advertisements that make up most of his hefty pile. There’s a coupon he sets on the table for later use, but nothing stands out. At least, not until a square envelope falls into his lap. Steve is still the moment his eyes land on the familiar handwriting that litters the white space. He and Eddie grew up together – Steve still has the notes they used to pass back and forth.
It's quite a while later that Steve finds the courage to open the letter. The paper inside is typical notebook paper that’s folded up haphazardly. It’s like being a kid again for a brief moment. Steve’s heart races – so many memories come flying back. It’s not fair that he’s already stripped bare; the pages are still a mystery to him yet Eddie’s taken him apart again, just like that. Steve doesn’t need to read anything his ex has to say – his heart always reacts to Eddie like this, like he's the only thing that truly breathes life into Steve.
Steve’s fingers eagerly unfold the thick stack of papers – he’s not strong enough to resist the temptation of feeling a connection to the love of his life again. It’s not good for him, though Steve chooses to ignore that each time Eddie’s name is mentioned or his thoughts turn to him. He’s been in love with Eddie since they were kids – it’s impossible to forget the sort of feelings their time together engrained within him.
There’s a second where he thinks about ditching the effort and doing something that’s not going to yank another piece of his heart out of his chest, though it’s brief and fleeting. He takes in a deep breath, closes his eyes and sends up a little wish of hope.
I’m positive you’re wondering why I’m writing to you. I’m the one that pulled away, who said I needed space, who ran away – why in the world would I reach out? Though I’m using this pen and scribbling the words you’re reading, I still don’t know the answer to that question. I shouldn’t be thinking about you, let alone writing.
It’s unfair of me to say this, because I know it probably doesn’t change much, but I miss you. I’m with Jeff now and he’s great, but he’s not you. I can already see your eyebrows furrowing together, wondering how you’re going to process what I just said. It’s endearing to be familiar with the quirk of your lips as curiosity and underlying upset settle onto your face. Steve, you’re an open book that I have read so many times it’s hard not to visit those worn in spots.
I tell myself all the time that my doubts and fears are a longing for the good things that happened between us. Sometimes, that’s enough to even trick myself into believing that anything other than your warmth and touch and love will ever be enough. After all this time away, I can genuinely say that my doubts are exactly that – doubts. I am not where I’m supposed to be; every single fiber of my being knows that.
And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I have the ability to love like I did when we were young. It’s impossible to find a connection that spans years and experiences and traumas that shaped us. Is it fair to be relieved by that? I made such a fuss about never wanting to settle for what I’ve always known. I took steps to do something different. It’s so stupid to think changing you would be the answer to all of my problems. There’s no replacing you, Steve.
At face value, Jeff is all I’ve ever wanted. He likes my music and treats me like a person he’s still getting to know. It’s fun to not be aware of all that’s coming around the corner. Too bad it’s not fulfilling in the slightest. I can’t get over the fact that I adore you, Steve. You are engrained in my skin, buried underneath it – there is no separation between my core and the space you fill. How did I ever think anything else would do?
I love him, I want you to know that. I love the man who has the sort of potential to give someone a good life. It’s a viscous cycle of breaking hearts all over the place. Do I continue to break my own by being away from you? Do I yank you a little further at the seams in hopes of making it work with someone who will never have all of me? I’m ashamed to say that I don’t know the answer.
But, I love you more, Steve. As selfish as it is, I think it’s important you know that, too. I’m not sure it changes anything, the actualization that I sincerely can’t live without you. The pull to explore and roam and be away still courses through my veins on a daily basis. Yet, so does the water of Lover’s Lake and the warmth of your touch. What do I do, Steve? How do I answer my heart’s call when two melodies play?
You probably can’t answer that for me, no matter how much I wish you could. I know you’d say come back, come home. You’d tell me to give into the call of the song in my heart that’s worn in and true. You’d be selfish, too. I know that because you’ve loved me with every possessive ounce of you since we were five years old.
I want to come home, I really do. I’m just – I don’t think I really know how.
Maybe I’ll find a way before you realize I’m no good for you.
Keep your fingers crossed.
It’s like Eddie felt the throb in Steve’s soul. Despite being difficult to understand, the letter is exactly what Steve’s been needing. Damn that man for always drawing him in again. Blinking back tears, Steve fumbles the stack of papers in his hand to start the letter all over again. He’s desperate to read the words all over again when the doorbell rings and the rotation of the whole world stops.
