Have I ever told you that I love you? Would you believe me if I did?
I miss our time. You know, the time we used to share just the two of us after a difficult case. You would mix a drink or two and I would make a meal. That all changed. Not suddenly, rather over time. You gained a boyfriend and would go home to him instead. I retreated from life in general. Now there is no usual ritual for us.
At the end of a case, we say goodbye or good morning, then leave separately to our own destinations. I leave for an empty condominium filled my bugs and other projects in progress. You rush home to hug your daughter before she leaves for school.
There was a time when I thought that we would never forget what it was like to count on one person to be our anchor. Did you know that you were, are, and always will be my touchstone? That day you appeared in the hospital, I admit I was somewhat shocked. I did not know that you knew what was happening to me. I thought I had successfully hid it from everyone. I should know better than that. You could always tell when there was something I was hiding. I tried to shut everyone out before, but you never moved. Even when you went to Miami, you were here. Have I ever said thank you?
You rarely complained about the cards life dealt you. I know you have said, "Never look back, never regret." But I see it in you eyes. You have regrets. Am I one? You are for me. I regret not telling you sooner, not showing you sooner. I should have said something back when we told each other everything. Now it is too late. You have moved on bravely, looking to the horizon. I know I was too late, but maybe you can find it possible to forgive me for not being there when you needed me most.
My dreams are still haunted by That Night. We stared at each other across the way and all I could muster up was "Hello." Great, now I'm sounding like the movies. You know the one I am thinking. We never did have the affair others think we had, but in our own way, we did. I just wish I could have told you when it would have made a difference.
It is strange to think that a single word would be so hard to say. I can rattle off the scientific names for the bugs I come across, but to utter a word only four letters long took more strength than what I have. How can a word so small mean so many things? Did you know even though I could not say it? Did I show you what was there all along?
Have I ever told you that I love you? Would you believe me if I did?