[P] to contain multitudes

[Marisol]



ORESTES,

If you call me “lady” one more time we’ll have to have a war about it. Any other title will suffice, I promise.

You are right: there is much we do not know of each other. The sea hasn’t said much, either; I don’t think she trusts me yet, which I can’t blame her for. But, to be honest, I would much rather hear it from you. The way you meant it. In your own beautiful voice, in your own chosen words. I look forward to it. 

But you must know, too, that I am afraid? You must. I owe you as much honesty as you’ve given me, but my life is not as glamorous or as fascinating as yours, nor does it make me look particularly… good. For whatever truths I confess when I meet you again, and especially if those truths are ugly—will you forgive me in advance?

I’ve missed you, too. Very, very much.

Two nights it is. I’ll see you there. Anselm insists on coming to meet you, and he is too stubborn to argue with, but I promise he’ll be on his best behavior. 

And this time I’ll remember to bring those blackberries I was talking about.

—MARI