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TheLetters

A story about a first love that comes to fruition and what happens when life and mental illness gets in the way. Told from the perspective letters bringing the past to the present. Please be warned, this does deal with mental illness and mentions of suicide.

Seven_Fields · História
Classificações insuficientes
6 Chs

Letter Three

Angel, August 16th

Do you remember the flowers I gave you? Maybe they were actually weeds, I'm not sure.

The first time, I didn't really mean anything by it, you were sad about something and started crying out of nowhere, it really scared me! I just pulled out some flowers from someones' little garden patch and gave them to you. I just wanted you to stop, and it worked. You looked kinda confused, but you started smiling. You looked so cute. That image of you will always be stuck in my head.

It became a thing, I'd give you any nearby flowers when you were sad and you… you gave me leaves. I kept every single leaf you ever gave me. I guess I was sad a lot because I've got heaps!

Annie was going to give you a bouquet after Jon, or whatever his name was, dumped you. I wouldn't let her. I felt like that was our thing.

I thought Annie would get upset with me, I refused to even explain anything to her, but she's always been so understanding. I don't think that suits her, she's such a hothead.

Did you keep any of those flowers?

I'm sorry.

I know I've never said it. Not in any way, but I'm sorry.

You should feel some satisfaction. You've got my first apology in print. Good ole' black and white.

I hope you don't accept it, though. Maybe you can later, but don't accept it now. I don't think you're even angry right now. Are you even hurt? Knowing you, you're probably just sad for now.

You can't just accept an apology while you're sad so wait until you get angry; so angry you think it'll eat you up, then hate me, and, after some time, you can finally accept my apology and forgive me if you want.

Not that I'll know if you do any of that. I don't expect to, but I hope you do and I hope you're really, really happy after that.

I wish I could give you all the flowers in the world, Angel.

This is all I can do now and I guess it'll be the last one, too.

I'll end here, since you can't give me leaves anymore!

Eternally yours,

-Ravi

A small white star flower had been pressed between the folds of the letter. The faint sweetness of its scent clung to the soft paper.

Of course she had kept the flowers, and some of them were in fact weeds, but they were all beautiful.

The last two blank lines filled her chest with a sadness the rest of the letter hadn't. She gently held the flower between her thumb and forefinger. She hated this letter. She hated this letter more than she was apparently supposed to hate Ravi.

How dare he write and tell her what to do. Did he think she was a child he could boss around? How dare he try to tell her how she should feel? Not only telling her how to feel but telling her when she should feel that specific way. Ravi was always like this, she supposed Ravi had always been that type of person. He was always the guy telling people how to feel about all sorts of stuff, and he would get huffy when you didn't feel the same way he did.

That was probably called something, a condition of some sort, when you had to control even the emotions of the people around you.

Had he always been that way, so controlling over every aspect like that? In the end it didn't matter because every part of their relationship had been terminated, for lack of a better word, and he was that controlling now that letters were his only form of one way communication with her.

She threw the letter, wanting it as far away as was possible in this moment, then watched with disgust as it fluttered to land gently first on the edge of the coffee table then slide gracelessly under the old loveseat.

Images of ripping the third letter to shreds flashed across her vision, then images of ripping the other letters joined. She thought for a moment it would feel good to rip all of the letters, opened and unopened. She would start with that hateful third letter than the two envelopes that remained unopened. She could take her time with the last two, but the third filled her with such a visceral type of disgust she felt sick to her stomach.

Maybe she would actually keep the first two, let them join the flowers in the box in her closet. They had been nice. Lovely even.

The other three; torn and burned. Same with any subsequent letters that happened to arrive.

But the images of burning letters stayed just that. Images. She hadn't moved even one centimeter since flinging the letter. Her right hand was a loose fist, protectively cradling the flower.

As she stared blankly around her small living room she recognized she was unable to process her emotions. After that initial burst of hot anger she was left feeling kind of numb.

When some time had passed she slowly made her way to the kitchen entryway where the phone hung shoulder height on the wall, it's curly-q cord nearly straight from hours of work from her nervous fingers.

She dialed the number from muscle memory and sighed heavily when a deep smooth voice answered.

"Really bums me out you only do that when I answer the phone." CJ's deep voice took on a whiny quality. "Have you still not accepted me after all these years?"

She meant to make a sarcastic remark but all that came out was another heavy sigh.

"Alright, I can dig it, foxy mama," She could hear CJ snapping his fingers rapidly as he spoke. "You need a ladies' night out? We'll put on our boots and go-go dancin', dude, how 'bout…"

"I'm here," Annie's voice cut in. "Get steppin', dork."

She smiled softly as Annie spoke, knowing Annie patted her husbands buttocks as she dismissed him.

"What'd you say?" Annie asked, her voice dropping lower. "He was snapping out a samba and looking totally freaked."

"I didn't say anything."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything. I just… I sighed." She paused, then added, "Twice."

"God Almighty, ya'll are freaky-deaky. How'd he know it was you just from a sigh?"

"We're connected."

Annie laughed loudly causing the phone line to crackle, "Yeah, alright. What's wrong? Why're you sighing so much?"

She hesitated, but answered honestly, "Ravi."

The line stayed silent for so long she began to wonder if the quiet static would eat her up alive.

Finally a small sigh, "You read the letters?"

"Three of them."

"I don't," Annie stopped to clear her throat and started over. "I won't ask what he said. I love you both and that means I can say I'm very annoyed with the both of you. I know you're both going through it, but ya'll are here 'cause you walked yourselves here."

"Yeah," Annies' words sounded harsh, but they made her feel better, more intact.

"I'm just so mad!" Annie almost yelled. "I hate this situation, and…" Her voice broke, "and I'm mad at Ravi even if it isn't really his fault."

She tried to hold her tears in as Annie spoke, but failed. She covered her mouth to at least stifle the sobs shuddering through her chest.

"I didn't want to say it," Annie cried. "Not to no one, not even Petey. But, I can't hold it anymore. I'm so… I'm not mad. I'm hurt, I feel so betrayed and it's selfish, but I can't help it. I know it's probably worse for you, and worse still for him, but that's the way the cookie crumbles."

They both stayed quiet, listening to each other's sniffles and hiccups.

"I'm hurt, too," She finally spoke.

"Why didn't he say something to us? Ask for help?"

"Would you?"

Annie laughed bitterly, "I can dig that."

"I'm going to go, dollface."

"Will you read those other letters?"

"Yes."

"Tonight?"

She glanced into the living room at the white envelopes, "Yes, I think I will."

"I'll catch you on the flipside, then."

"Love you, you foxy mama."

"Love you, too, nerd."