Couldn’t Bring Myself to Love

“WHO COULDN’T LOVE”

“Alright then, which one of you is Lily?” The girl squinted at us with a sly, knowing look, her fingers tapping against the pocket of her cardigan.

“Im Lily. Why?” I blinked, confused.

“Letter for you. From William,” she said, pulling a crumpled envelope from her pocket and thrusting it into my hands.

“William? Where is he?”

“Transferred to the adult care home. Waited for you, he did, like rain in a drought. Nearly wore his eyes out staring. Gave me this to check for spellingdidnt want to embarrass himself in front of you. Anyway, cant dawdle. Lunchtime soon. I work here, seecarer,” she sighed, giving me a reproachful glance before hurrying off.

…It had started one summer when my friend and I, bored and restless at sixteen, wandered onto the grounds of an unfamiliar building. The air was thick with honeysuckle, and adventure hummed in our veins.

Emma and I perched on a sun-warmed bench, giggling over nothing. We didnt notice the two boys approaching until one spoke.

“Afternoon. Bit lonely, are we? Fancy a chat?” The taller oneWilliamextended a hand. “Names William.”

“Lily,” I said. “This is Emma. And your quiet friend?”

“Lawrence,” mumbled the other boy.

There was something odd about themtoo stiff, too proper. William frowned at our skirts.

“Shouldnt you be wearing something… longer? And Emma, that necklines a bit much, isnt it?”

Emma snorted. “Eyes front, boys. Wouldnt want them popping out of your heads.”

“Hard not to look. Were only human. You dont smoke, do you?” William pressed, face pinched with disapproval.

“Course we do. Just not properly,” I teased.

It was then we noticedsomething wasnt right with their legs. William shuffled awkwardly; Lawrence had a pronounced limp.

“You here for treatment?” I asked.

“Right. Motorbike crash,” William recited quickly. “Lawrence took a bad dive off the cliffs. Nearly mended, though. Home soon.”

We believed them. How were we to know theyd been here since childhood? That this place was their whole world? That their “accidents” were well-rehearsed lies to spare them pity?

But they were clever, William and Lawrencewell-read, wise beyond their years. We started visiting every week. At first, out of guiltthen because they fascinated us.

It became routine. William would pluck daisies from the garden for me; Lawrence folded origami butterflies for Emma, cheeks burning as he handed them over. Wed sit togetherWilliam too close, Lawrence angled toward Emma, who glowed under his bashful attention.

Summer melted away. Rain swept in. School swallowed us whole. By graduation, wed forgotten them entirely.

…Until one damp afternoon, years later, Emma and I found ourselves back on that bench. Two hours passed. No William. No Lawrence.

Thena woman burst from the care home, marching straight to me. The letter trembled in my hands as I tore it open.

*”Dearest Lily, my wildflower, my unreachable staryou never knew, did you? I loved you from the first glance. Those afternoons were my only breath. Six months Ive watched that gate, waiting. You forgot me. Our paths wont cross again, but thank youfor showing me love is real. I remember your laugh, your hands, the way sunlight caught your hair. Im drowning without you. Just one more minutethats all Id ask.

Lawrence and I turned eighteen. Theyre moving us come spring. Doubt well meet again. This pain will pass, they say. I hope so.

Goodbye, sweet Lily.”*

*Yours, always, William*

A pressed daisy fluttered out. Shame coiled in my chest. Id never suspected. To me, hed been a curiositya clever boy to flirt with, nothing more. Id stoked that fire carelessly, never dreaming it would consume him.

…Years later, the letter is brittle, the flower dust. But I remember.

Emma, thoughshe fell for Lawrence. His parents had abandoned himborn with one leg shorter, deemed “broken.” She became a teacher at a care home. Married him. Two sons now, both grown.

William? According to Lawrence, he lived alone. At forty, his mother came backweeping, begging forgivenesstook him to her cottage in Cornwall. After that, silence.