Here comes the past

"I have always been an admirer of words, literature, and poetry from the beginning. For me they were everything. They opened those doors for me that I couldn't myself open in real. In that book, you must have read about my letters, Mr. Felix. I wanted to help people through words. I wanted to provide them with comfort through this. That was all my desire was. There was no concept of letters at that time. I sensed the vital need for it. I noticed the changes they could have brought to many lives only if they were there. But they weren't. Travelling was not easy. Many people could not travel to far-off places to send messages or to meet their loved ones because of the lack of money. The ones who could, would never be able to make that in time. They almost always missed the opportunity to get to their selected place because traveling took many days.

I knew that letters could help them. I wanted my share in bringing happiness to the world. I was filled with high spirits and hopes that my letters would work. They will be a glint of hope for people doomed to darkness. I built my own fairytale in my mind, where every problem had a solution if and only if we expressed what we think about others through letters. What is their importance in our lives?

She opened a page in the diary and put the diary in front of Felix. It wasn't the first page.

"See this is me, younger me. With my first client. Look how happy I was!" she said, but Felix looked with wide eyes at what was happening next. Every page was visualized in front of him. He could exactly see what was happening. Every entry from her diary could be visualized, with all fragments of detail of happenings. She made him see her past.

"Thank you very much, Miss Whitlock. I really couldn't have done that without your help. Accept my most ardent wishes for you" he claimed with bright eyes. Sometimes our eyes agree with the things that we are saying. They emphasize our words. Ophelia smiled like a sun; her eyes too shone immaculately. "This was none but my duty towards my client. I hope we meet again". Both of them stood up and she accompanied him to the way outside that room. He put on his top hat and slightly bowed. She too bowed like a princess and raised her long skirt a bit with the tip of her fingers delicately. Off he went. She closed the door behind her.

She went to her table and sat at her chair gleefully. The room that she used as an office was all themed in dark brown. It wasn't much big but it reflected her taste. All over the walls, there were quotes written from far-off lands and times. Almost every wall was lined by bookshelves, occupied by a tonne of books. In the middle were a desk and a chair. That table was so near and dear to her heart. It was very old but looked fresh although the edges were slightly worn out. The air and the environment radiated positivity. Her room was her best place, the place where she felt at home the most. She didn't stop smiling from the moment he left. She pulled out a leather diary from her drawer and started scribbling upon it with a quill drenched in ink.

"I'm the happiest today. There is finally someone who is listening to me. People have started believing me now. My letter provided comfort to his life. It saved his mom's life" a teardrop fell at the paper and she stopped writing briefly.

"He sent her that letter that told her that he was alive. She couldn't have known otherwise. She was on her death bed and now both of them have contacted each other. Mr. Arthur came today to thank me. He promised to preach good things about my work in his circle. I hope he left a good impression of me on people". Words came out of her as fluently as ever. She didn't have to think before writing. They were always there, staying by her side all the time. They mesmerized her.

Due to war a year ago, many lads had lost contact with their homes and their relatives. Their offices were not in this condition for recruitment of new staff to take messages here and there. Mr. Arthur was one of them too who found in a newspaper about Ophelia's letters. He was in the neighboring town then and came to her at an instant. She told him everything about what the letter was, what it could do, and how will she write it for him. His mother was far away in another country and due to the after-effects of war, he could not get there immediately. But she needed her he knew. When he left, she was on her death bed and begged him to come back as soon as possible. He wanted her to know that he was alive and safe and that he will come back as soon as everything gets back to normal. No one knew about letters at that time. There was no concept like that. After months and months of trying the first client appeared lost in hopes. As mentioned, he was not a native of Pensive and its neighborhoods. That is why at the time of war other countries sent their help to the affected areas. He too came in a pack of soldiers. He was educated and civilized and that was enough to understand Ophelia's notion; her letters. She put the diary back in the drawer, the world looked brighter today. It seemed that her hard work had paid off even though he was the first client.

The door knocked.

"Come in," she said while organizing her desk. The door opened and a man in his late forties came inside.

"Good morning! My dear"

She glanced at him and all the brightness that was there seconds ago went. Where? No one knows. He held a long stick in his hands. He examined the whole place with disgust on his face (that wore a garb of sweetness) and said to himself "How unlucky I am to step into this cesspool at this early in the morning. I hope the entire day turns out good"

"Did you say something to me?" she folded her hands on the back and was now in full mannerisms.

"No, not certainly to you my dear" he turned to her and claimed with a voice too sweet that sounded bitter at its core. Excess to everything is bad. "Am I of any service to you?" she didn't glance upward; her gaze was fixed on the floor. "No, no dear what could you possibly do for me? I have heard that a young man visited this place early this morning" he inquired with pretended carelessness.

"Oh, yes, that was Mr. Arthur I have told you about him. He was here to thank me for the lette…"

"Enough" he shouted and a strand of hair came to his forehead. Ophelia jerked with fear. He pushed the strand back with a deep breath of patience and continued with the same false sweetness "I know this already my dear, I think I should take my leave now".

He turned back and went, she stood there for many minutes frozen not moving. Only a second is needed to drown all happiness. She sat at her seat "You can never understand me, father".

Her day was ruined by that, she again put out her diary and said to herself "I had hoped that maybe this time there would be a gap, a longer one between my last entry about you". But her last entry was written last night. There had never been a long gap.

"He is my father Mr. Felix. When I started thinking about letters, I built my own fairytale in my mind, where every problem had a solution if and only if we expressed what we think about others through letters. What is their importance in our life? How much they mean to us. I wanted to be the first flicker of hope. So, I wrote a letter to my father. I was hardly 10 or 11 at that time. I loved him very much. He was my only parent since my mom died when I was only one year old".

"I am so sorry" Felix involuntarily said. But Ophelia didn't take notice and continued.

"I lived with my father and my grandmother. Every time I needed my mother, she was there for me. She comforted me and supported me. Both of them loved me and I too loved them most fervently. They were my parents. I wrote to him whatever I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know what was he to me, so I wrote with my heart".

"Can you read to me that letter?" he asked.

She didn't say anything and took out a letter from the many letters in the back of her diary. They were tucked in the leather jacket, hidden. She pulled out one and started reading:

Father,

I am here for you and I really love you. You are very important to me. I know you love me too. But I miss mom. I know you and grannie loves me very much. But sometimes I think about what would it be like if she was here. You need not worry. I will always be there for you and I will never ever leave you. You are my everything father. Please promise me that you too won't leave me alone, ever.

Yours and only yours,

Ophy.

He keenly listened to every bit but could not believe that it was her.

"What happened next?" he was getting impatient.

"See it yourself" she spat. She opened a page from the beginning of the diary that showed:

Thomas scurried down the great lounge where Ophelia and Catherine were sitting. In a fit of fury, he threw the letter in front of her and only said this:

"Don't you write to me a letter again" and went away.

Ophelia had never experienced this. He was always gentle towards her. This was a totally new face of his. That day she almost lost her father.

"Why did he say that to me, grannie? I'll never forgive him. She was weeping childishly "I know he hates me. He hates mom too. That's why he never talks about her. I've never heard him mention her. I'll never forgive him".

Catherine knew at very instant that things were getting out of control. But she just soothed her silently.

-------------------------

"Why did she write to me that letter?" he was still fixed on that same point. "Son! She didn't tell me but it is not a big deal" he cut her off violently "IT IS FOR ME" and went to the other corner of the room. "She loves letters my son. She is even considering it to write for others". His ears burned red "Tell her not to do this" she helplessly replied, "I can't".

"Then don't expect the love from me".