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Goodbye

Summary:
I hate this! I hate that you’re gone. I hate not hearing the rocking chair creak at night. I hate that even though your cooking was inedible half the time, it was still better than anything I’ve eaten since, and I hate these God-awful yellow cabinets that remind me of you every single day! I should have told you when you started that sunshine didn’t belong in Forks.


Notes:
These were my answers to the 'Dear John' Challenge on http://community.livejournal.com/tm_switzerland


1. Letters

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 562   Review this Chapter

Charlie/Renee

Dammit, Renee! It was one thing to leave me here alone and another to take Isabella the way you did. Didn’t you care that she was crying for me? You didn’t even let me say goodbye. I want my little girl back!

I hate this! I hate that you’re gone. I hate not hearing the rocking chair creak at night. I hate that even though your cooking was inedible half the time, it was still better than anything I’ve eaten since, and I hate these God-awful yellow cabinets that remind me of you every single day! I should have told you when you started that sunshine didn’t belong in Forks.

But I guess you didn’t need me to tell you. If you hadn’t figured it out, you would still be here. God, Renee, I miss you so much.



Charlie put down his pen and lowered his head, turning his cheek to rest it against the notebook in front of him. This was about where he always stopped writing. He’d written the same letter, with insignificant changes, every month for the better part of the year. They were all still in the notebook. He sat up again, his eyes unfocused as though it might prevent him from seeing the hideous yellow cabinets. A moment later he stood and closed the notebook, taking it back upstairs were it would hide in a drawer for another month, until the anger got the better of him again. Then he would get it out and remind himself that it wasn’t really anger at all.

Sam/Leah:

I wanted to begin this the way I’ve begun all your letters these last few years, but I cannot call you My Leah anymore. I have no right.

You asked if I remembered the life I’d promised you. The house down by the Call’s place and the steady job I was going to get after college, so that we could start a family. You asked if I remembered loving you at all, and I couldn’t even answer. I was so angry I had to walk away, but I promise I wasn’t angry at you. Never at you. I have no right to that, either.

I remember. I could tell you that breaking those promises to you hurts me, but I know you, Leah, and you would spit on my pain. How can I blame you, since I’m the one causing it? I could tell you that I would give anything to be able to keep those promises. But that would be lying. And you might forgive me for this some day, but you wouldn’t ever forgive me for that.

I won’t lie to you. I love Emily, though God knows I never meant to. And although I can’t know how hard this must be for you, I have to ask you this one, final favor. Please don’t take your anger out on her. The blame is all mine. She has not even consented to speak with me since I left you, and it’s possible she never will. She loves you as truly as she ever did. Please don’t let my failures ruin your relationship with her.

For what it’s worth, I love you as well. I always will. That it cannot be what we hoped it would be – that we cannot live the life I promised you doesn’t change any of that. My Leah. I am so sorry.