Letter and Reply 11
Monday, October 20th and Tuesday, October 21st
Letter and Reply 11
Delivered at 2:56 pm, Monday, October 20th.
Dear Billy,
Before anything else, I want to apologise to you for Saturday. I felt so awfully all day, I couldn’t bear myself. I didn’t want to think of the look on your beautiful face when Dom had to tell you that my letter wasn’t going to arrive. Just knowing that I’ve put your next letter off further is making me very lonely. I miss hearing from you! It’s been entirely too long!
Again, I’m sorry.
To respond to our little “trade”... Of course I consider it a very permanent process as well. I can’t imagine ever wanting my heart back, once it’s been in your hands. After all, if you were to return it, it would inevitably be broken, by no fault of yours, but simply by my own overuse of it. You know how badly that might hurt me. And I know it. I would never do the same to you.
I want to just send you a photo of myself so that you can finally place your verdict. I’m so afraid that I’ll disappoint you, but I understand that you’d still like at least one small glance to compare these letters with. After all I’ve said about what I picture of you while you read these letters, I must be making you very frustrated. It isn’t as though you could say the same about me. Not yet. But I do appreciate that you’ve tried, at least, to imagine us together. Have you set us up on any particular dates in your mind, or am I still too faceless to imagine any at all? I’d like to know what your daydreams have been up to so far. As for mine, let’s just say we’ve been almost everywhere together, and I still don’t believe that any of it could be as good as the real thing. (I’m still formulating ‘the real thing,’ by the way; don’t give up on me!).
I’ve gained so much from these letters, however, that it’s still hard to imagine that I might push this all a little further. Unfolding each letter is like unfolding another bit of you; I can’t believe I’ve experienced anything more touching in my life. I want to see you unfold before my eyes, Billy, and then take you up and experience you at last. I want to romanticize you tangibly, repeating the course, not only every other day, but every single day of my life.
Sometimes this all seems unreal to me, too. Like, you said, an online date. But, you’re right, Billy. I didn’t just pick you up off of a list of names, or even base my “decision” on your top three hobbies. In fact, when I first noticed you, I had no real idea of who you were, what you liked to do, who you knew, or anything at all. But I knew you were kind. I knew you were sweet and attractive. And you still are all of these things. Though any one of your hobbies or interests is a part of you, and I love them because of that, it couldn’t really matter to me any less if you preferred bird-watching to football or spent your evenings drinking tea and knitting. You know, I’m not even sure why this is. I think it’s all due to the fact that I can’t find the exact reason for my feelings for you. It’s nothing specific. It’s everything at once. It’s not what you do, but how you do it, and who you are. And I treasure those things above anything else.
So, then, let us leave it all up to fate, shall we? After all, I have no part to play in such a thing, (and we both breathe a sigh of relief). So, we know that if I continue to feel this way about you, it’s by no act of my own, but because some higher power decided that it was meant to be so. And so it is. You know? I feel much better that way.
Though I’m afraid that fate is leading Dom away, right? After all he’s done for us, now he’s ready to pack his bags. I’ve been trying to convince him to stay here, if only for a little longer, and not only for the sake of these letters. I really think I’d feel…well, wrong if he were to leave. It just wouldn’t be the same. As you said, it isn’t everyday that someone special comes into your life, when you least expect it. It’s like something hits you on the head and you realise that they’ve become a part of you. For no reason at all. And it hurts so badly to have to let them go; you keep the scars to prove it – to remember how real everything was. So you never forget. It must be hard for him. I wonder if he really wants to go at all. He told me once, he feels more at home here, living with you, than he’s ever felt anywhere else in his life.
Anyway, don’t make his life too miserable, hey? Though I suppose he might deserve your nudging if he’s going to horde me all to himself. And I can imagine that cheeky smile of his; quite clearly. He does get that way at times, doesn’t he? Well, never mind it all then, Billy; give him a pinch or two. I hope you get every ounce of gossip out of him in the end, that arrogant brat.
You say that you’d suppose I’m attractive? I’m quite honoured, Billy. Considering you don’t have a picture of me in mind, I’d say that’s a very bold statement. But, then, I don’t think that I’m much to look at really. Perhaps you would think differently. Perhaps you would simultaneously make me the happiest person alive. I’m just about to that point anyway, as I can’t keep out of mind that you think I have a wonderful personality. I hope you know that I’ll never forget that. Yours is quite adorable as well. Don’t forget that, either.
You are lovely. You are lovely, lovely, lovely. Need I say it again? If you claim to be only average, then please spare me blindness from a look at the extraordinary few above you, who must obviously be celestial and unable to be seen at all.
Or are you one of them as well?
I know how you let me off with calling you lovely... Of course, because you have my heart, and you’ve obviously read all over it the words inscribed, “Billy is lovely,” so I must not be lying to you when I say so myself. Did you also notice the words inscribed, “Yours only,” (and not solely in reference to the heart itself)?
You’re in my life in every way, Billy. Everything I think or feel reflects a part of you, because everything is for you, and my thoughts are never free from you. Even the thought that my letters are causing your smiles, your happiness, and your good days ties my heart to you inseparably. I can’t take a step without being reminded of you. I can’t lie and breathe without wanting to see you again. I can’t write a letter without wishing I were speaking every word to you while you rest in my arms.
I know I am becoming even bolder as each letter passes, but I have no regrets about any of it. Everything I’ve said is completely true. Why shouldn’t you know how I care for you? I do, Billy. I care for you more deeply than anyone I’ve known.
I am with you more than you know, Billy. And even more so in heart. I can’t wait to see you again, anywhere, because I know that you’ll be looking for me; I’ll be looking back.
Yours Only,
MS
Delivered at 3:45 pm, Tuesday, October 21st
Dear MS,
Please, don’t apologise. I knew you would and I was dreading it. You have nothing to be sorry for! Everyone gets caught up in life sometimes. I can hardly blame you for having other obligations. What kind of a person would I be if I couldn’t stand a day’s wait? Besides, I think the wait has made your last letter even sweeter.
I’m glad we both know that hearts are non-refundable. I’m also glad to see that we’re both still prepared to enter into something like this. Makes me feel secure, among many other things that simply can’t be described on paper.
I don’t want you to send me a photo. I want my first glimpse (realized glimpse, at least) to be in person, with your own expressions, just for me. That must not be spoiled. However, I only wish it would happen soon! Every time I see something I’d like to do, or watch something interesting on television, or read something in the paper, I always wonder how you’d react to it. I know so little about your point of view! Who knows if we’d even be able to agree on our fundamental beliefs. However, that point isn’t really important to me when I imagine these exchanges. It’s the fact that I can that makes me happy. I’d like to be able to share everything, from the crucial to the inane with you. And be able to simply let it spill forth without having to write it all down. Not that I don’t like writing, I do. But it’s a bit different than carrying on a conversation, you know?
I’m really terrified sometimes, you know. Sometimes, just thinking about how overwhelming this is completely blows me away. This can’t really be dealt with in any way one learns through other experiences. I’m so afraid something is going to screw up, or this won’t be as wonderful as it seems right now when we really meet. But you know what? Everyone needs to be frightened once in awhile. Risks are worth taking when the reward is as promising as this. I’m just not used to taking risks like this.
I had a talk with Dom this weekend about you. I still feel guilty for pressing the matter with him, because I don’t want him to feel the only reason I seek his company is to talk about you, but in the time we talked, I got out a few details I had not known before, which proved to be very helpful and clarifying. I’m going to have to stop asking him, though. I want you to clear up the rest.
I can almost hear a clock ticking towards Dom’s departure, and I’m almost afraid that when the timer runs out, something will explode. He’s become such a part of my life, I’m not sure I can put it all back together again without him there. But he’s got a life outside of Lauderville. Really, Lauderville was a mistake in his life, and I wouldn’t really blame him if it was a mistake he’d like to rub out of his memory all together. I’ve got to accept that he needs to go back to... the real world. Outside of the little bubble that is Lauderville.
Are you a poet? Have I found out your occupation at last? Because the words you put on these pages sound more and more poetic every day. Perhaps you’re an aspiring poet. I’d say you’ll make it. And I am more than honoured to have you bestowing your words upon me. Every day I wonder why, but lately, it’s not important to me to get an answer. I can accept it.
I shall keep your heart safe, you can be sure of that. I will treasure it like I treasure all your letters, keeping them near and dear to me.
You will look after mine as well, won’t you?
Hanging on your every word,
Billy
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