The Letters Katherine was tired. She fumbled in her pocket for her keys and withdrew them in a tangled mess. She found the house key, inserted it into the lock and turned it with what energy she could muster. After all, it wasn't as if the home was going to leap up and greet her. Trudging up the stairs to her second floor apartment, Katharine counted the steps...12...13...14...15...at the top. She flipped on the light and sighed. Her apartment was as she had left it...empty, hollow, devoid of warmth. Her apartment wasn't so much a home as it was a rest area, a place she stopped occasionally on the road of her life. It was like staying at a hotel and never checking out, except this hotel had no maid service. Katharine set her briefcase down by the couch as she plopped down on to it, the mail in hand. She sifted through the advertisements, the bills, the catalogs, mindlessly categorizing it in her head. Suddenly, she froze. In her lap lay not a bill or catalog or junk mail. It was from *him*. Her breath caught in her throat...how long had it been? Where was he now? Was he missing her? She reached down and carefully picked up the envelope before her. She inspected the return address, afraid she had made a mistake. However, she had not...it was from him. She turned over the envelope and slipped her finger under the gap in the seal of the paper. She ripped through the top of the envelope, slowly, cautiously. She didn't want to destroy the letter, his precious words. How long had it been since he had written? She couldn't remember. It had been long enough, she thought he had forgotten. Her heart quickened. Her anxiety caused her to fumble the letter inside and drop it on the floor. She bent over to retrieve it, and delicately unfolded the paper. She sat back on the couch and took a deep breath. Then she read: My dearest, I have not forgotten you. Time here passes so quickly, it all but seemed like yesterday that I had last written to you. When I realized that many weeks had passed, I knew that you would worry about me. I hope you are well. My work here is moving along, and I think I will be leaving this place soon. This countryside is so beautiful, I wish you could be here with me to see it. Yesterday I stopped in a small village and bought some flowers for you. I wish you could smell them. A tiny old woman sold me the bouquet and told me they would bring me good fortune. She may be right. Today Justin told me that we may be going home soon. The flowers, my love, they are so beautiful-- violet and white. And they smell like you, at least, how I remember you smelling. It's intoxicating. If someone were to see the way I breathe in the aroma of these flowers, they would think I was crazy. Still, it makes me feel like you are here with me. I think about your smile, your laugh, and I forget that I am thousands of miles away from you. I can see your face floating here before me, your dazzling eyes, deep pools of blue which I am drinking in. We will be together soon, my love. We will find each other again. I miss you and am thinking of you as you are thinking of me. I know that you are out there in the world, and I need you to know that I am out here waiting to see you. The day will come. Until then, be strong, and do not fear the world. The world is a wonderful place, so long as you are in it. I must go now, but I will write again soon. Hopefully the next letter will be the last, as we will be together after that. Until then, take care, and know that I love you. Love, ------ Katherine smiled. She refolded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. What a thrill! After her long day, when it seemed all hope in her life was gone, she received this letter...from *him*. She walked over to her desk and sat down in the chair. She looked in on herself a moment, smiling, warming herself with the thoughts. Some day she will see him. That day will come. Katherine pulled a piece of paper from the drawer and paused before she picked up her pen. Slowly, the sad realization of her reality washed over her, and she shook her head. Then, she started to write: My dearest, At last! This will indeed be my last letter! I will be at the train station on Tuesday at 5 o'clock. I can not wait to see you and hold you. We will finally be together... Katherine had known him since she was 10...in her mind. He was someone she had constructed. All her life she lived with the thought of him. She knew that if anyone were to know about him, they would seek out some therapy for her. She had even laughed at herself about it. Now, it seemed that she was perhaps in need of some therapy. She was finally going to put this fantasy to rest. She would go to the train station on Tuesday at 5 o'clock, and put away her fantasy man by crushing her heart. It was the only way to move on. Yes, this was the right thing to do. Katherine paced the train platform. A train was due in at 5 o'clock. She glanced at her watch. 4:57...why couldn't a train, just once, be early? She had gone all out in destroying her life...she had dressed impeccably, as if she was truly going to see him. She wore a pretty flower print dress...violet and white flowers, his favorite. She wore his favorite perfume, and his favorite color lipstick. Over the years, she knew all of his favorite things. She knew what he looked like, what he smelled like. He was real to her. Yet, she knew she could not hold on to her childhood notions. She needed to grow up, stop writing the letters, stop pretending, stop hiding. She needed to find Mr. Almost-right. Because Mr. Right didn't exist. She heard the train pulling into the station and waited. Any moment now, the train would empty and she wouldn't see him...and that would be the end of it. She stood and readied herself for her self-made tragedy. The train stopped and people began to disembark. She felt for a moment as if she were in the middle of a bad romance film, standing at the train station, waiting for her man. She chuckled softly at this image and watched the stream of bodies crowd the platform. She knowingly surveyed the faces of those entering the station, spotting their loved ones, looking for the signs directing them to cabs, looking for someone who wasn't her. And then she caught a glance at a man, looking her direction. Katherine thought it had to be in error, he had mistaken her for someone else, she glanced back where she had spotted this man, and nearly fainted. It was *him*. He looked as he should. His hair, his eyes, his height, his build...it was all him. I'm hallucinating, she thought to herself. He can't possibly exist...can he? To her dismay, this man started to walk toward her. Katherine was frozen by her shock and terror, she could not move! This could not possibly be true. The man came closer, and suddenly stopped in front of her. "Excuse me, I don't mean to pry, but do I know you?" The man asked gently. Katherine could barely speak, but shook her head. "I don't think so." The man laughed, "I'm sorry, you looked familiar to me, and you seemed to be looking at me like you knew me." Katherine shook her head again. "I'm sorry, my mistake." Katherine wanted to speak. In her head, she was screaming. Tell this man to stay! Tell him that you do know him! He's the one! Yet, she remained frozen, unable to move. The man had started to walk away, but stopped and turned around. "You wouldn't know where I could get a good cup of coffee, would you? The coffee on the train was awful!" Katherine replied softly, "There's a coffee shop across the street. It isn't great, but it's better than brown water." The man laughed. "You're quite funny. My name is Robert. Robert Jonas." Katherine shook his hand, "I'm Katherine Stewart. It's nice to meet you." "Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? I still can't get over the feeling that I know you from somewhere," Robert picked up his bag. "I'd love to join you. It's funny, I feel like I know you from somewhere too." Katherine smiled and began to walk to the exit doors. "I like your dress, Katherine. I especially like the flowers..." Katherine walked with Robert to the coffee shop across the street, talking and laughing, and not questioning. Maybe she didn't need real life after all...
Copyright © 1999 Shawna Benson |