CHAPTER 1
Eric Barer switched the lights on, closed the door and placed his sling bag on the table. His condominium unit is a typical bachelor's apartment. Upon entering the room faced on the right side, a small kitchen with a marble countertops and on the left side, the bedroom, a room within a room. The bedroom has transparent glass internal walls that slide open help transform the space and make the overall room feel larger than what it actually is. Gold silk drapes line the interior of the bedroom. After the transparent room is the living room. An artwork by an unknown artist was hung above the 20" long red silk velvet covered banquette and at both end was two gun lamps. There was also a rectangular low-glassed table in front of the banquette and a 65 inches diagonal flat screen television, mounted above the stone-designed fireplace. At the corner-end between the fireplace and the glass wall is a pathway to the small kitchen and bathroom. Red is the predominant color theme throughout the rest of the room.
It's past eleven in the evening. Eric just came from work. It's his usual schedule since his work falls on an evening program of WJRQ 103 radio station of Cincinnati, Ohio. Being the youngest D.J., he could not but accept the program. Yet, his program hits the top of the chart for two months now. He is not actually a native of Cincinnati. Eric was born and raised in Newport, Kentucky particularly in the Street of Columbia. After his graduation, he ventured on applying to different places. Lucky, the WJRQ 103, a well-established radio station in Ohio, saw his potentials, his charisma in engaging social conversation with a stranger, his rich baritone voice and certainly his good heart-captivating looks that quite makes a stir to the appeal of young ladies. Most women would describe him having the heart of a lion and the soul of an angel. This is advantageous for the radio station, which hosts plenty of events yearly.
Though Newport is not far from Cincinnati, he left everything behind, the comfort of their home and the luxury of family since he wanted to be independent. He's now staying at Adam's Crossing, a condo unit that is just five minutes drive from his working place, the radio station. Eric is a dreamer. Since getting the job as D.J., he constantly reminds himself that working at such place is a mere stepping-stone of achieving his goal that is to be part of a national radio or television station as a D.J. or as an anchor.
Eric grabbed a can of beer and made himself comfortable on the banquette, sitting back while watching a replay of the triple overtime NBA game between the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Los Angeles Lakers. He knows how to play but he was not a fan of NBA. For the sake of watching, he has no choice but to be contented with NBA replay since there's nothing better to watch at this hour.
He suddenly recalled that he bought a book at the second hand bookstore this morning after meeting an old friend that he hasn't seen for a long time. He reached out to his bag, pulled out the book and the aroma of old paper burst out.
It was a second hand leather-bound classic book entitled, "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë. It is not the first time for Eric to buy a classic book. Whenever he sees a bookstore, he couldn't resist the temptation of entering and buying a book. He is fond of reading books especially classic books. Though, he also reads books of selected contemporary authors like Nicholas Sparks, Nora Roberts and John Grisham, he still prefers much the classic. He even has a collection of the classic like The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, and Draculla by Bram Stoker. He's not particular with the genre of the books as long as they are classic. He believes that the classic books are on top of the list of the best books. For him, they bring the immortality of reading to life and the richness of lexis.
Since Eric was in a hurry this morning when he bought the book, he browsed through it to check if there are other damages on it other than the smell of old paper and some dust. He noticed that there were some folded pages, and some ink of pen underlining words. Other than those, the book seems to be in good condition. However, as he was nearing the last pages of the book, he noticed that the blank pages of the book were used as a notepad. There were writings on it.
The handwriting seems to be that of his grandfather, like a flawless calligraphy. He guessed that the one who wrote the words ages between fifty to sixty years old. Furthermore, he observed that the handwritten words weren't reaction to the book but actually a letter.
He clutched firmly the book and glanced at both ends of the room as if what he was about to do is something illegal. Of course, it was just a reflex. Well, to read a letter, which is not yours, is inappropriate but he bought the book. Along with book is the letter written on it. Technically then, he has every right to do whatever he likes with the book. Yet, it seems to be difficult to remove the guilt feeling. The letter could be a personal letter. It could be a forbidden letter of eternal love. Whatever the case, his curiosity got the better of him. He then began to read.
The letter started with the greeting, "Yam" and ended with "Your Dad." Wow! Just Wow. That was some letter. He thought after reading it. The letter was tremendously emotional. Every word in it articulated the misery of the one who made it. Every paragraph lucidly expressed the deepest thoughts and sorrow of the heart and mind of the sender.
Eric is the type of man who usually doesn't show much emotion. Whenever he gives advice to his listeners in his evening program, he was just calm and rational. But at some point of the letter, a drop of tear was rolling down his cheeks. He also had to pause at some parts to bring his self together. The letter made Eric to travel in a different world, a world filled with regret and desolation agony. It was actually the world of a dying father writing to his daughter whom he had not talked with for ages. All Eric can think about is pain. Even he as a spectator of the letter was engulfed with pain that surrounds the letter at every angle.
Eric closed the book and clutched it tightly on his chest. Questions started to formulate on his mind. Who are these Yam and Dad? Why did this Dad sell the book? Was he able to tell her personally the thoughts he had written? Were they able to reconcile with one another? Eric wanted to know what happened next to both of them.
After few seconds, Eric sighed. He knew that these questions wouldn't be answered. In no way could he meet either one of them. There was no address. No other name except "Yam." Such name could actually mean many things. It could be a code name or a nickname. It may not point directly to the person being addressed. There was no other clue. What to do then? He felt disappointed. He wished at least he could learn what happened afterwards.
Eric stood up and went to his bedroom. He sat on his bed while still holding on to the book. His mind was still on the letter. The words seem to flow naturally as he continues to look for a clue that he might have missed. Suddenly, he thought of an idea. There's hope, he thought. With the comfort of the idea, he lay on his bed and prayed that as the sun smiles on the world, he could confirm and maybe gain a clue that would lead to the answers of his questions.