In All Honesty

I could begin this letter by asking how you are. I could say something like, “Hello,” or, “It’s been a long time.” I won’t do those things, though, because I’m sure you know that it’s been a long time, and because if I saw you on the street, I wouldn’t say “Hello.” I won’t ask you how you are, maybe because I don’t know what I want the answer to be, or maybe because I don’t care. Maybe I don’t care how you are now, only how you will be once this letter is finished. Maybe I only care if you’ll change. I could say that I miss you, but I’m not sure if that’s true. So, now that we have eliminated those possibilities, what’s left? The letter has been started, and unless I throw it away, even if I never send it, something must be said. So I suppose I will settle for saying that when I told Erika I would be writing to you, she asked if I would be honest. I told her that I would be as honest as I ever am, which is not at all really, and she said that was for the best. She said you would be expecting that. Expecting a string of half-truths. She was always rooting for you, Erika was. Do you know that I am engaged? I thought maybe that someone had told you. Did you smile when you