Ghosted: A Novel

Dear Eddie,

I’m writing to say I’m sorry.

I ignored all of your signals and instead I bombarded you. I should never have written, and I should never have called you. And I certainly should never have turned up at your football match last night. (I’m guessing you’ve been told.) I cannot tell you how embarrassed I am. I know it won’t make any difference to anything now, but the tiny speck of pride I still possess urges me to tell you I really don’t behave like that normally.

For reasons I don’t fully understand, our meeting and your subsequent silence seem to have brought up a lot of old feelings connected to the car accident I was in nineteen years ago. I think that’s contributed to my insane behavior.

I’m at Heathrow, about to board a plane to LAX. The sun is shining and I am desperately sad that I’m leaving like this, knowing that I will never see you again, but relieved to be going back there, where I have a busy job, friends, a shot at a new life as a single woman. I will work on whatever happened, and why I behaved the way I did around you. I will fix this. I will fix me.

Still, it would be remiss of me not to say that I found you cowardly and disrespectful for going silent on me like that, and I hope that you will think twice before doing that to another woman. But I accept that that’s what you chose to do on this occasion, and I accept also that you must have had your reasons.

Finally, I wanted to say thank you. Those days we had together were among the brightest of my life. I will remember them for a very long time.

Take care, Eddie, and good-bye.

Sarah x