May 01, 2004 20:49
Friday morning, Alexander returned, as he said he would. I was pleasantly surprised. I had feared that he would reconsider our reunion overnight.
He came bearing four gifts: first, his company, second, french vanilla cappuccino (my favorite, which I was surprised he remembered after all these years), and third, an invitation to spend my remaining days with him in his home.
The third gift, I admit, I was reluctant to accept. I had already invaded his privacy, taken liberties in an effort to reach him. I didn't want to disrupt his life again, entering and then leaving, and I was dismayed at the idea of growing close to him again and then dying. I was satisfied knowing he was cared for, loved.
In the end, I couldn't refuse him. He was earnest in his desire to reconnect with me, and after being denied for nearly a decade, the temptation was too great.
We spoke of hopes for our time together. Once resentful, he was now eager for me to meet his Hephaestion.
His fourth gift was by far the most touching, the thing I had dared only to dream of for the past nine years.
He forgave me.