5 Chapter 04

"Something on your mind?" Asked Maya gazing at Elizabeth over the rim of her coffee mug, who had donned up a confused frown on her face.

"Uh no, I think I forgot something, but what..." Elizabeth stood up mindlessly and turned to head back into her room.

"feather brain," murmured Maya into her mug and Elizabeth shot her a smug look.

"Heard that West."

"Of course, you did," Maya smiled and stood up to take out the trash, "hey why don't you call up Cassie and we'll go out for a girls' night to celebrate your last unemployed Friday night ?"

"The whole city is unemployed on Friday night Maya," said Elizabeth deadpan. "and how can you be so sure?"

"Oh, please you're Elizabeth Hartley, they'll be calling you the first thing tomorrow." Maya smiled comfortingly and picked up the trash can. Elizabeth smiled back politely and involuntarily glanced from her coffee mug to her phone screen back and forth for a ping from Designers Den. It was a just a slip of her eye that glanced towards Maya taking out the trash when she caught the envelope of the mystery letter sticking out of the trash pile. Elizabeth did not know what came over her, but she stood up in a jolt and stopped Maya.

"Jeez what now?" Maya halted exasperated.

"That letter," blurted Elizabeth, then ran over to the trash can and fished out the envelope. She turned to Maya and smiled sheepishly.

"I think I'm going to hold onto this, see if someone will come back for it." Elizabeth knew how stupid she sounded, but she could not let the letter go. Maya squinted her eyes at Elizabeth suspiciously and worried.

"That was what was bothering you?"

"See now you're just putting words in my mouth," said Elizabeth defensively.

"Just keep the letter I won't judge." Maya laughed and walked out with the rest of the trash.

Elizabeth looked back at the letter held in her hand, and she oddly felt as if she had ticked a task off her bucket list of adventures.

That evening Elizabeth called up Cassie and headed to their usual spot at the Cozy Sac with Maya. Elizabeth did not want to celebrate and waste booze over an interview, so she kept mum and went anyways for her own reasons. The Cozy Sac was the only bar in town that was serene enough to nurse a wine glass after a tumultuous day, and Elizabeth wasn't having a tumultuous day nor did she find any place serene-er than her room, so she knew this night wasn't for her, but seeing Cassie and Maya melt into their comfort zones made her want to merge into their bubble instead of popping it. Hence she pulled the girls along with her all the way up to the rooftop, which had a magnificent overview of the city while the chill September winds blew fittingly through the martini induced crowds with warm flushed bodies. Elizabeth knew not much on Cassie except that she showed no mercy to anyone who interrupted her during her spin class and that the Cozy Sac was the only place where she could free her tensions—although Elizabeth had second thoughts on the latter, the fact that Cassie never had to over explain anything made her look like real company to Elizabeth's eyes.

After ordering their favourites Maya did the one thing that excited her the most and that was to question Elizabeth about Designer Den. While Elizabeth appreciated Maya's enthusiasm she could not help wondering if this was what all their conversations were going to be comprised of if Designer's Den did take her in. Elizabeth shuddered at the thought.

However, surprisingly, what took Elizabeth by astonishment was how her mind constantly slipped back to the letter tucked in the grey box in her closet. The letter. It was gnawing at her silently as she yearned to know what the letter said. Elizabeth knew it was illegal and just not right to read stray mail or any mail that was not hers, but the possibility of anyone reaching out for this letter seemed a possibility out of this world.

"Liz, are you zoning out already?" Asked Cassie and Elizabeth shook her head as the voices around her began to seep into her mind.

"Nope still here," she plastered a smile and raised her martini. Maya looked at her disbelievingly.

But Elizabeth smiled and reassured Maya. Elizabeth couldn't help wincing every time Maya and Cassie thought or remarked how this interview was something to celebrate over, when she knew she could have screwed up wildly, but when she saw their glowed up faces, she did nothing more than ask for another round of martinis and bourbons to make herself believe that this step she was taking was worth it.

At the same time it did not bother Elizabeth the least to know that she had to down a few glasses of booze to agree with her recent choices, as she had not fully yet realised that she was still refusing to succumb to a life of darkness and conformity like a proper daughter of a Manhattan socialite should be doing.

Glass after glass Elizabeth felt her fears waking up from their deep slumber—she was terrified that Designer's Den would call her up certainly—she was afraid that she was living up to everyone's expectations except hers, when she couldn't even concur what she expected—she was scared that she would rush up the socialite ladder in a breeze like her mother, only to be left cold, oblivious and ignorant and she was most afraid she would lose herself to a city she felt nothing for.

These morbid truths and fears meant more empty glasses, which soon drove Elizabeth to an elevated state of fuzziness- in this state her mind effortlessly rushed back to the letter from Chelseaville, and the sound of the town's name, loud and clear in her mind, sparked a joyous childhood whim within her. When Maya leaned back to see where Elizabeth vanished off to with the drinks she was supposed to get, she spotted a VERY drunk Elizabeth slipping off a bar stool while smiling at an empty cosmopolitan in front of her alongside two empty martinis.

Maya's face drained colour at the sight.

"Oh no she did a cosmo." She said mournfully.

"She did a what now?" asked Cassie who had seemed to catch Maya's sight.

"Liz had five cosmos one night and announced the whole bar she was going to volunteer to solve a bar fight."

"Was there a bar fight?" Cassie asked looking worried.

Maya pursed her lips, her eyes watching Elizabeth sharply.

"No." Maya whispered.

"Oh no," said Cassie mortified.

"Oh yeah," Maya nodded her head, "Liz told me if I ever see her reach for a cosmo, it would be an early warning to evacuate her from the bar asap."

Cassie turned and instantly cringed at the sight of Elizabeth attempting to make friends, with a triple shine glow on her face, while invading their territories with a terrifying confidence.

"There's that warning right there." Cassie nudged Maya and she nodded in reply as they made a beeline towards Elizabeth.

******

After bidding Cassie goodnight, Maya helped Elizabeth into her bedroom no matter how hard Elizabeth tried to prove she was fine. Once Elizabeth was slumped on her bed, Maya turned in too, tired after preventing a chaotically helpful Elizabeth from committing aggressive community service. But Elizabeth wasn't tired, sure she was absolutely knackered, but the letter kept her awake, hence the moment Maya was out of sight, she crawled towards her closet, which she could barely focus on under the dim lighting of her room. She crawled across the turquoise carpet determined and sat down inside her closet beside the storage box, closing the closet door behind her and leaned against it for support. Elizabeth opened the envelope without a scratch or a tear much to her surprise and pulled out a folded yellow stained paper and unfolding the paper she gazed at the spidery writing on it, as if she had discovered gold.

*******

Waking up inside her closet was not anything like what she had seen in rom coms as her limbs screamed in pain at the disposition of her against a hardwood floor and a door. When she saw her phone on top of the letter lying next to her against the wooden closet ground, Elizabeth freaked out as she had zero memory of opening or reading the letter, or even ending cramped up in her closet.

After a dose of Maya's signature hangover smoothie, which had more greens in it than Elizabeth had ever encountered in her life, she waited patiently for Maya to leave off to work for her to have her own private freak-out.

When Elizabeth read it for the second time, which was the first for her rational senses, she paused with half a gasp at the end to take in the fragile sentiments in the spidery handwriting. It was a love letter. But what threw Elizabeth off the edge was the date of the letter:

November 23rd, 1994

It puzzled her how this unsent letter happened to survive for twenty-four years in that storage room. She re-read the letter and sat back on her velvet armchair, as if she'd received unsettling news, but she hadn't, it was the letter—it wasn't just a sappy old love letter, the receiver, a Harrison Crawford, meant more to her. Yes, it was a 'her', as Elizabeth saw the name Hope Mayfield at the bottom of the letter. The vague formality of the letter, among the fragile sentiments made Elizabeth see that this was not an unplanned love letter. The letter was supposed to mend something broken- a letter of reconciliation and healing she assumed.

As the words she had just read purled through her mind, like sweet new music with a tang of bitterness induced into it, Elizabeth felt something fill up in her, a tiny crack, closed. Her eyes widened as the feeling washed over her and receded away like a hasty wave. Shaking her head absently at the notion, Elizabeth focused on the letter never sent and it instantly pained her that these words were never seen, just left buried under dust and cobwebs for years.

Now that she had read the letter, Elizabeth knew she couldn't throw the letter away, hence she did what she could do on an empty jobless day—Maya's petulant sulks and threats had made her resign from crafting coffee at Starbucks after the interview at DD, as she had warned if she was living with a Hartley who wasted herself serving coffee at a Starbucks around the corner, she was going to lose it— which was grab her laptop and research on a Hope Mayfield, who happened to be a previous tenant of the apartment, or someone who had her stuff. Luckily, it did not take much effort to look for her as she was the only one from Belvedere street that appeared on an obituary from two years ago. Elizabeth sighed in disappointment. She guessed the recipient would not be alive as well, after all it had been twenty-four years. With a heavy heart, Elizabeth folded the letter back into the envelope and pushed it between the pages of the poetry book she had discovered. Hope Mayfield's. It made everything clearer as her eyes finally worked out the scribbles made by Hope in the poetry book were vague references to her lover, as she began to make out Harrison Crawford's name swirled in places under Blake and Poe. She smiled sadly at the lost memory of these lovers that did not quite belong to the present, a heavy weight forming in her chest.

She left the book aside and turned back to her laptop and typed Chelseaville , Alabama on her search box, and she didn't have the usual faith on Google, but when pictures of this town she had never heard of popped up her screen, she bit back a low scream at the sight of a small dull looking town, with a shady darkness looming around, secluded away from the city. Elizabeth squinted at the surprisingly small population and frowned confusingly. It did not make sense, because Hope Mayfield had subtle descriptions of Chelseaville that made it sound like a secret paradise. She didn't want to stop investigating the letter nor the town, but the possibility of anyone coming back for the letter seemed a false hope or even a joke on herself, so she shook impossible thoughts off her mind and let the dead-end mystery letter be.

Elizabeth had never been in her apartment during the day, so she waltzed around the empty space waiting for that call from Designer's Den, doing chores she never imagined she would do ; starting with preparing lunch instead of spending her last Starbucks cheque on take out. Before she could even get to the kitchen, her pocket buzzed, and Elizabeth scrambled the phone out in a hurry. But when she saw a message from a @jasper_C she had never spoken to, she rolled her eyes furiously at the bored fool, and was about to slip her phone back in, when another message popped up from the same person. She sighed frustrated and visited the conversation and what she saw made her jolt. She had initiated a conversation with this man but had no memory of it and soon she realised why. After she skimmed her eyes over a conversation which she had fuelled, Elizabeth wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

*****

The closet. The letter. The phone.

It was the night she got knackered at the Cozy Sac. Elizabeth had attempted to search for a Crawford after reading the letter, and luckily or more like miraculously her slippery fingers had tapped a Jasper Crawford and filled him in about an unsent letter to a Harrison Crawford. Out of all the Crawfords out there, Elizabeth had tapped on the right one, because an hour later after Elizabeth's very urgent text, there had been incredibly positive replies.

*****

Elizabeth collapsed onto the bar stool near her and stared at her screen in shock and awe that she had found the right Crawford in her tipsy state. Jasper had replied with the affirmation of being Harrison Crawford's son, and how he is aware of a Hope Mayfield and that they would love to have the letter sent back to their new address. Elizabeth squinted at the profile picture of the said Jasper Crawford and frowned. Heavy brows shadowing light grey eyes below a neatly combed wave of brown hair, and a pursed lip with a light twitch at the corners for a smile— he surely did not look like the son who would be so enraptured by the news of his father's old love letters. Something about the letter felt so fragile and precious that she did not have it in her to give in to easy chances as the last thing she wanted was for the letter to be sold on eBay under a vintage shipwreck collection. If anything, she knew that the letter was meant to be delivered even after all these years.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and texted away saying she would send the letter in no time.

Setting her phone down on the marble counter, she looked around her small but comfy apartment. This was her home, but the idea was more forced upon her before she could even decide. And for the past few years she had decided that this "home" of hers had never felt like one someone would call home or real for reasons she could never articulate. She knew to call home wasn't always some place where you've been born and raised, it could be anywhere that synced with your soul and now that she had travelled half the globe through the alps, and vales, valleys and abysses, shores and towns with unpronounceable names, she still had found nothing.

Growing up in Manhattan with the glamour and luxury, Elizabeth believed greatness and the easy ways would always pair up together and wait for her with their shining arms outstretched, welcomingly. That was a childish fantasy which pulled Elizabeth down to reality when her father died when she was just fourteen. It was always the cancer that gets closer to them than we ever could, Elizabeth had told herself at his funeral, but Alan Hartley did not forget the precious joy of his life. A few days after his funeral, Lorraine had revealed a box of small notes and treasures her husband had left for their daughter. It was her father who made Elizabeth fall in love with mysteries and the unseen miracles of the world, because Elizabeth knew he too was a mystery that she had to solve over time. A week after his death Lorraine, as promised to Alan, gave her daughter the first clue to a streak of mysteries—a language of their own, secret notes entangled within pages of myths and legends in his library, an age old Cadbury wrapper in his usual trench coat that had more history in it than all the lessons composed in her high school history syllabus, and most importantly poems, like magical words that transported her to a realm of her own and made her fall for them unconditionally—that continued for five years until her nineteenth birthday, whence he had predicted she wouldn't be needing him any longer, only he had been wrong.

It only took the precursory plan of a five-year treasure hunt to help Elizabeth discover her brighter side and for her to simultaneously comprehend that the only person who would ever see her did not even exist anymore.

Even though Elizabeth's relationship with her mother had been somewhat distant and dodgy over time, she knew of the love Lorraine bore for her father, as there was a time when her mother had been overwhelmed and woozy by the presence of her father within the walls of their lavish apartment rather than the apartment itself. But what set them apart were the little insignificant thorns- on Elizabeth's sixteenth birthday, when she had discovered a note from her father about the mysteries outside earth, she saw from the corner of her eyes as Lorraine stood by the door of his library, pale faced, a visible trace of pain intermingled in her reddened amber eyes. It was the first time Elizabeth had seen her mother so hurt and afraid since her father's death, and then she saw that similar expression on her face ever so frequently for the next few years she spent with her in the Hartley apartment until she could not bear it anymore. Since neither broached the subject, Elizabeth strayed herself to believe that her mother chose to be cold to her over time as she sharply resembled her of her father.

Memories of her father composed Elizabeth and made her less neurotic on what she was about to do next. The "crazy stunt she was about to pull" as Maya would have put it, while clinging onto the reliance that there was someone up there who would keep up with her, even if the world could not.