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submitted by collegedearestirene
I was hoping to find her here.
Or, at least, that she'd find me. Online. After everything we've done for each other, last week couldn't have been the end. She chose me despite our difference in social status. Despite her parents' obsession with "racial compatibility." I chose her despite the risks. We were low key. Just a handful knew about us. We even went so far as to write notes in a code only the two of us understood.
Last week can't be the end. Despite what her friend said. Despite what her letter said. She was forced to write it. Either that or she just wanted me to hate her. If it's the latter, I love her even more.
On the other hand, there was nothing in her letter that remotely resembled our code. Deep down, I dread the possibility that she has given up on us.
I know the situation is bleak. But I'm not ready to give up on us yet. I write this in case destiny leads her here.
I know I sound delusional, in denial, but I am convinced that what she said in her letter simply isn't true. No one suddenly quits school in the middle of a semester just to spite an ex. Also, I commuted all the way to where they live. No one's at home. The house on sale. We kept our relationship a secret. Rich as her family is, they wouldn't suddenly leave, just to have her spite me.
Where are they now? Where is she now? Where did they take her? My guess is somewhere where her prospects are more... Racially compatible. They can afford it after all.
Just thinking of this almost makes me hear her voice. "A regular Sherlock Holmes," she'd say. The way she said it when I first figured out that she liked me back. Back then, way back then, when my... sleuthing instincts were responsible for bringing us together.
Too bad it's useless now. Near to useless. Seeing through her charitable lie gives me hope; but is it a hope that I'm supposed to nurture? Her number is useless now. Her social networking accounts, gone. Her parents must have really bullied her into closing her accounts, into writing that letter.
I'd like to believe despite everything they've done, deep down, they love her. What am I saying? Nobody takes extreme measures such as these if not out of love. That's why I feel so compelled to do no less. That's why, no matter how bleak the situation, I am not giving up.
My guess: they'll want her to study. They'll enroll her in a school wherever they may be. I'd go so far as to guess that they'll disallow her from having a social networking account. They will probably monitor her email account. But they have to allow her to go online. And what married couple would visit a site for exes?
If I she is as I know her to be; if her letter is indeed, as I suspect, a lie: she'll find this site. And, chances are, she'll read this.
July. Red. Concrete. Just in case you get to read this. So that you know that it's really me. So that you know I'll do everything I can to keep what we have.
I know we're both still young, our futures uncertain. It'll take some years before we graduate, before your parents no longer have a say on whom you should love, whom you should marry. By then, we can finally be together again. I'm willing to wait for that day; just give me a sign that you will too.
On the home page here they say that they'll release a new story each week. Send me a sign here. I'll constantly be on the lookout.
I'll be fighting as hard for us as I imagine you will. I'm doing everything I can, and now I'm at your mercy. If love is everything people say it is, we will prevail. We can overcome this.
I don't want to concede to my fears: that I am just a silly college student clinging on to mere nostalgia.
I will wait. If all this comes to nothing, then let this be my contribution to exesanonymous.com.
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"July Red Concrete" is part of a play called exesanonymous.com, written by Dr. Joem Antonio.If you want to stage this play, please visit exesanonymous.com/onstage for the script and license information.
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