I guess it's been just over a month now, since Reagan and I went our separate ways. And, even though it was mostly my idea, I cannot get this man offa my mind. I know how this must sound. Like I am one trifling ass dime. Aint so. I'm just stupid. This man has me picking up the phone twenty thirty times a day, and then hanging up just as I finish dialling his number. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can't get this Negro out of my head. I know, I know, technically if I am the one to break up with him, then why can't I just call him back, tell him I changed my mind, and hope to kingdom come he hasn't changed his mind yet. It aint that easy. This is what happened, his Mom often goes over to his place to clean up and cook, one particular day, I went to his place, and his mother answered the door. I didn't know if she was shocked to see me or if something was up.

"Genae_..honey what brings you by? You're the second person to stop by for Reagan this afternoon. He's not home yet." She said, and his Mom is usually so sweet, that immediately I found it alarming that she wouldn't even move out of the doorway, or hug me as she usually does. I wondered, how much she knew.

"I know, I just stopped by after work Doris." I said, and reached out to hug her anyway. She laughed a high-pitched nervous laugh, and quickly let go of me.

"Do you want to wait?" She asks this as though praying to God I will say no. But I nod my head, and she moves aside to let me in, but not before glancing nervously out the door behind me. She had good reason to panic, because the other person who was there to see Reagan was still there. This other person was some nasty ass busted girl. She was sitting on the couch with her cheap Wal-Mart weave, dinosaur fossils for teeth, and hooves clad in a pair of pink sandals. I didn't need to go any farther. I didn't wanna say anything before I got myself in trouble, and certainly did not want to be there when Reagan got home. I would be embarrassed if he felt compelled to explain her to me, or be it didn't think he should explain her to me. Regardless, it was a very uncomfortable situation I had gotten myself into. I felt embarrassed, and if I could have turned red, I would be on fire, because I made up some ghetto excuse about how I suddenly had to go, and raced out of the house. So you see, clearly he has moved on, and has not wasted any time with the whole thing. So, how can I go back now?

I didn't know what to do with Reagan when I had him, he was too everything. Too nice, too good, too friendly, too generous, too polite, too_shall I continue? Or are you sick of him yet? Reagan didn't hit me like Dwayne, didn't embarrass me like Ronald, didn't insult me like Jerome, didn't use me like Tom. Need I go on? Reagan sent my favourite flowers; peonies to work, with sentimental notes, that all the girls would crowd around me and gush over. He left rose petals in my pockets, bought tickets to Santa Cruz on a whim. Regan rubbed my stomach when I had cramps, cooked for me when I was too lazy to do it, and spoon-fed me when I was sick. The first time he wrote me a poem I laughed, because I didn't know how to react. Reagan was absolutely perfect, and I didn't notice it, until it was too late. I hated him for being the one I should be with. I hated him because he represented the Prince Charming I had convinced myself no longer existed. It's like they say, they always come along when you aren't looking. I clearly wasn't looking, and while I had him, I still couldn't see.

One day I just couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much, and I felt like I was getting in too deep. Suffocating, drowning without a lifeline. I took all of his things to his house in a box, when I knew he wouldn't be there. Left it on the doorstep, with a note in an envelope taped to the top. I am not good at expressing my feelings in person. I find it much easier to do it on paper. So I wrote it out. At least what I thought I was feeling.

Regan,

I can't explain what I am feeling. All I know is that I can't continue to live like this. I'm breaking up with you, and I am not sure why. I know this will hurt. It hurts me to do this, we've had what feels like nine months of bliss, but underneath it all, I haven't been happy. I know I should probably just talk to you about this in person. But I am a coward in the worst way. I don't know if my resolve will withstand a verbal confrontation. I mean no harm to you at all. I want the very best for you, and that is why I need to let go of this whatever it is that I thought we had. I'm confused, and I'm hurting, and I am going through some things right now, that go much deeper than you and I. And, in short, I want to do to this alone. I care about you enough to know that there will be no friendship for us, so please don't try to call me, or stop by. This is the easiest way to do things. Please respect my decisions. IF you are still confused and you aren't sure of my reasons, or you feel as though you need some answer, please read between the lines of this sentence: Some things are not meant to be forever.

Genae

I still don't know what that letter did to him. It was hard to write, difficult to explain. There are a lot of things going on in my life with work, family, and friends that I couldn't have shared with anyone, but I know it must have hurt. He told me once to read between the lines. He had said "This is forever." No, some things aren't. He honoured my request, and didn't try to contact me, but now I find myself driving by his house every so often, wondering if he's inside. Wondering where he is. I sit up at night wondering how things will work out for us.

For some strange reason I am standing outside his house. Just got in my car, and drove, and standing as it begins to drizzle. I think I am stalking him, but maybe I am just lovesick. It hurts from way deep down inside, I can't even think of how life will be for me, if we don't reconcile. I can't think period. My thoughts are all jumbled up, and all I can think is pain. I feel like throwing up, but instead I brush furiously at the tears that are streaming down my face, but I'm no longer sure if they are raindrops or teardrops. I begin to move slowly back in the direction of my house. What am I doing here? What am I doing here? I walk back towards my car.

"Genae?" I can hear his deep voice in my head, as though he's right here. And feel his touch on my arm, as though he is really here. Mother fuck. He is. I spin around, and he is standing looking at me, half wet, puzzled. I stare up into his chocolate brown eyes, and take in all six foot four inches of his thick caramel frame.

"What are you doing here?" He asks shaking his head puzzled.

"I'm_I_I don't know." I stammer, and hang my head, so he wont see the tears that are slipping down my face. Here I am standing in front of him and I don't know what to say. I look down at his large feet in front of my tiny ones. It could have been our feet like this forever, long into our future. I'm embarrassed that he has seen me like this. No longer composed and coiffured, hair soaking wet and hanging down my face, sad and forlorn.

"You don't know?" He chuckled good naturedly, and I wish I could laugh as well.

"This hurts!" I tell him, looking up into his eyes, and the smirk slipped from his face. He looks serious and hurt.

"You're telling me!" He said, and my heart leapt. If it still hurt, then maybe_maybe we could not hurt together.

"What can I do?" I whispered

"I don't know if there's anything that can be done." He replied, and looked somewhere behind me. I watched as the rain slipped off the end of his chiselled chin. My heart fell faster than it had risen. I wanted to cry out and scream. "It's good to see you again."

"Can I have a second chance?" I asked suddenly. I wanted to drop to my knees and grip at his thighs and beg him. I never wanted to feel like this again. The only way I wouldn't is for him to say yes.

"What?" He asked. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"You must be mad. Do you have any idea what you did to me? I didn't go to work for three days. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I played every event of our relationship over in my mind time and again. I burnt the box you returned, and the letters. You messed me up girl. I haven't been able to date anyone since. Even look at a girl?" He said through clenched teeth. Clearly this was a bad idea. He turned away, and then turned back swiftly. "You have some nerve. Is this a part of your game? Is this what you do? Turn the tables? Forget it. I am not that stupid. I take you back, and then you break up with me again, not allowing me any answers. No chance to help you_a letter_. filled with mean unkind words?"

"This hurts me too!" I yell, when he finally stops talking. And because he was standing so close to me, I pushed at his chest, and wanted to beat at him, but he didn't even budge. I spun around in frustration, and with all of my heart stamped my feet like a spoilt child and got covered in mud up to my knees.

"You don't get to hurt Genae. You don't get to hurt, you get to live with this. I will not let you break my heart again. The first time is your fault. Anytime after that is my fault. Forget it. I want none of this." He yelled.

"Don't you get it? I was confused I didn't understand_I_I thought I had to do it alone...I thought those mountains were suppose to be traversed alone. I_I screwed up!"

"Yes you did. I'm sorry. It's too late." He said. Then turned to leave. I stood there looking after him walking down his pathway to his front door. And I don't think I will ever be able to see rain again and not break into tears. To my surprise he stops.

"Get out of the rain or you're going to catch pneumonia." He yelled, without turning around.

"I don't care!" I call defiantly.

"Fine!" He went up to his front door. Then stopped again. "Come in and dry off Genae, god damn!"

"NO!" I yelled, and finally found my stubborn feet to be in working order and stalked to my car.

I spent another night awake, alone, and shivering by my bedroom window. My tears had finally subsided, and now all I could do was shake my head at the preceding events. I wondered if I would ever love anyone again. And if I did, I knew it would never be with the intensity and determination that he had loved me. I had really hurt him. I deserved to be desolate and lost forever.

Apparently I did manage to fall asleep, because I awoke just as my alarm went off at 6:30. My neck was stiff from sleeping up against the window, and my lap a mess of torn and flaky tissues I had cried into. I had to go to work. Regardless of how I felt, I couldn't not go to work again. I showered slowly, and painstakingly got dressed in a casual all black business suit, feeling as though I was in mourning. I trudged downstairs, blazer jacket in hand, and almost died. Literally tripped down two stairs, and froze to death at the bottom. Peonies, everywhere, all colours, and everywhere. Tonnes of them. Peonies everywhere. I must have looked shocked. Certainly not as excited as I am sure I feel. I look around the room.

"Who loves me?" I yell. "Who loves me this much?" I am sure it is my mother, or one of my sisters, or one of my deluded girlfriends. In the middle of the living room, sits a box. I rush towards it, and almost die, because the smell of the peonies are overwhelming, and I think I might die of happiness. Imagine all of that sadness, and now this. Now this. God! I love you whoever you are. I rip open the box, and tears flow freely down my cheeks, tears of relief, happiness, and at long last love.

Genea,

Your spirit and love of life overwhelmed me. From the first day I met you, and I knew I wanted to be a part of that. I knew that although I will never be as free-spirited and charismatic as you are, that I could at least be near you. Then I fell in love. Hopelessly madly in love, and didn't know what to do with my time away from you. I realize now, that through all of the hurt and through all of the pain, that maybe I expected too much, and maybe I overwhelmed you, and maybe, just maybe, this is my fault too. Regardless of the past, second chances are the windows to the future, and baby, my love, my sweet, my forever, Genae, I see happiness in our future. This thing is forever.

Reagan