Yes.. I did finally grow into my name. I no longer react sarcastically to everyone that comments on it. Gone are the days when I say.." yes, everyone has an aunt named Ruby", or "You're right, its really not that common, unless you hang out in nursing homes". I now wrap it around me with pride. You always said I would unlock everything it had to offer me. I will give you that one.
And.. I love my red hair now. Its actually getting curlier as I get older. I like to be distinguished by it. I actually enjoy all of the references to redheads I hear. I get a kick out of it when my boyfriend says, "Yes.. the curtains match the carpet". I play into the temperamental part of it. I've always enjoyed keeping everyone at arms length. I don't think anyone ever saw the angry side of me though.
OK.. another confession. I was, in fact, able to live without you. How did you know I would? I can still feel it. You came by to get your economics textbook, and we made love. Not in my apartment, but in our home. Just a month earlier, we shared every corner of it. I pleaded with you to come home for good that day. I vowed you that you could see other people.. as long as you came home to me every night. I told you that I couldn't imagine taking a breath without you by my side. You promised me that I'd be okay. I screamed at you, called you a liar, I got down on my knees. You left then, said it hurt too bad to see me so weak. Later, when Rosemary found me in the shower, dressed, shivering from the cold water, she too believed that I'd be okay. I didn't believe it then.
You were wrong though. You said I'd forget in time. I still haven't. I tried. I spent years waiting for the sun to come up, trying to recapture. I thought I missed you. I missed my security, control. I knew you loved me more than I was capable of loving myself. The recollections of an easier time. Except we were both so young. I memorized your mannerisms, your smile, your eyes. I remember how well my body fit against you in bed. Lastly, I remember the pain you endured trying to hold on. Did you think I never saw it?
In case you were wondering, I have something to say to you after all of these years. Thank you for loving me, and letting me go.