A Letter – In Reply

Dear Ms. James,

I appreciate you telling me about your mother, perhaps, appreciate is the wrong way to say it, but I’ve no other way to word it. By the time you receive this letter, I’ll likely have visited her, I have the time after all. I have always liked your mother, perhaps that was a sign of some sort.

I’m trying to keep any, hostility, from this letter, considering the news. I, wish things had gone differently, I still do, though I know it won’t make it so. I can safely say the anger is mostly abated at this moment. Really, I’m just, sad, I suppose. I never did like an empty home, and that’s really all I have. My friends were all your friends, and it seems I lost them in the split. Strange to realize that I never had friends of my own, and seemingly they all appear to think I’m a horrible person for being angry at you. I don’t get it personally, what did any of you that knew what was happening expect? I mean, I’ve never been one to hate a person, but I hate that, man, you’re with. He has an infantile grasp on language, the one time I’ve met him, he came with the movers you know, he acted as if you were a prize.

Who does that? Who does that to a person, that just had their world torn apart?

Now I have news that a person I’ve known all my life, or a large enough portion of it, is dying. It’s terminal and she has months to live, and it’s one thing after another.

So, it seems I rather failed at keeping the hostility out of the letter, maybe I’ll send a different one, and just keep this one for myself, but that would be rather like lying, or leaving a post it note with call me on it. (Yes, that was in reference to your actions, so perhaps the anger isn’t totally gone, but well, I can’t say I blame myself for this.)

As it stands though, despite my anger at this situation, despite what you’ve done. I’ll be there for your mother, and should you need it, I’ll help you with anything you need help with.

I won’t however submit myself to the presence of that asshole, yes, asshole, you decided was more fitting. It makes me wonder though, if that’s what you wanted in a man, how lacking was I in our relationship? No accounting for taste I suppose, apologies are to be extended however, as this letter has become exceedingly rude. It wasn’t my intention when I started writing it, but well, here it is. You however understand quite well my view on the worth of an apology, so perhaps even this final bit is rude.

Sincerely,

Elliot S. Jacobs

P.S. While I’ll be around your mother when I can if I’m not there when something happens please call me my number is (555)-275-000. Really I am, well, Lyn has always been kind to me, I’ll do whatever I can for her in this time and I mean that, truly I do. I’m sorry that this comes after what is perhaps one of the rudest letters I’ve ever written but, I felt it should be said. You know the schools number, call that during school hours if something happens, please.

 

 

A Letter – Returned

Dear Elliot S. Jacobs,

Elliot, I’m sorry I hurt you to this extent. I’ve rarely seen you this angry, I…I’m not sure what to say about it. I would say I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I see now that I did, even unknowingly, some part of me must have wanted to otherwise, you’re right, I wouldn’t have picked that day.

I’m glad to hear you’re at least looking forward towards the start of classes, I’m sure you’ll do great at being a teacher, I know you always shared so much of what you knew with me whenever you thought I might listen.

Also, this is strange to have in a letter and its coming at such a bad time, but, mom’s sick. Really sick, and she always liked you and she’s angry at me for leaving. She said that even if I was living in sin at least I was happy, but…that’s another thing all together. She’s at the hospital, it’s thirty minutes from the high school, I hate to ask because of what I did but it would mean a lot to her if you could go see her from to time.

As for bridges burned, you’re right and I’m sorry, I could have handled all of it better but hindsight is 20/20, there isn’t anything to be done for it now and I know how you feel about apologies. I’m not sure what I could do to redeem myself as being someone you could be friends with, but it’s only been a week, I think we both need time.

Your friend regardless,

Emma James

 

Closure – A Letter (Fiction)

Dear Emma James,

It feels like I should be starting this with something like I still remember the day, or I’ll never forget when it happened, when we ended and I was alone again, but it’s only been a week so it’s not like much time has passed, even if each day has been a year and a day, and the week seems like it’s lasted centuries, it’s only been a week. A week since the call.

Who does that? Call to tell someone they’ve been with for five years, five years that day, our god damn anniversary, that she’s done? Who does that? That’s what I latched on to, October fifth, 2011, that’s when we actually said we were a couple, dating.

You knew, you knew how I felt about marriage, I didn’t see the point. I still don’t but if you felt we were living in sin you should have mentioned that, or maybe I didn’t understand you well enough, maybe you’re right and this is for the best. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t mean I’m not angry.

Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have done a better job of ending it.

I get home, you’re gone, the things that were, for the most part, yours, were gone or packed and there was a note saying the movers would be over and that I should call you. You didn’t call me, I had to call you, to figure out what was happening. You’d met someone three months back, and you’d been seeing him, and this was my fault somehow? Somehow it was my fault you felt the need to do this, it was my fault my career hadn’t taken off and I was starting as a substitute English teaching in two months, it was my fault, all of it, everything that went wrong was my fault somehow. Yes, you top this all off with we can still be friends, a smile in your voice and it’s like you’re laughing at me.

You’re willing to throw away everything we’ve built, everything, without any kind of fight for it, on the day we built it, throwing it all away with a post it note a couple of boxes and a phone call, yet we can still be friends? Are you kidding me? How do you, how does that even compute? Where did you come up with that grand scheme? Cause it wasn’t reality, it sure as hell wasn’t with me in mind. No, I’m sorry miss, we can’t be friends, please lose my number. Now, now that I’m writing this, I was sad, devastated, for that week, but now after its all said and done, I’m just angry. I want my five years back, I want my cat back, but I don’t want you back. Not after this, you’ve not only burnt the bridge but you’ve destroyed all the historical records of it to, there is nothing left.

However, despite this, part of me still cares, and that part of me, that small kernel of love I bear for you still, wants to say I hope you can find that happiness, I hope you find it and I hope you don’t throw it away with a post it note and a phone call. I hope you fight for it and can smile again eventually. However, it won’t ever be with me, I can say that, regardless of what happens, the ship has sailed, we’re done and I want to say that with real feeling to make sure the closure is there, to make sure its clear.

We’re done.

I wish you well, truly I do, this is all I have time for. I have to go setup the lesson plan for my classes. Six months as a stint as an English teacher for the local high school, should be a learning experience certainly.

Sincerely,

Elliot S. Jacobs

Tomas Delvin and The Raffle Ticket Prize

               “Thank god, finally off work…huh?” A kick a box in front of my apartment, a muffled “Umph…” can be heard from it

 

                 “What?” I quickly take it inside and look at the top “St, George’s Mall Raffle Prize” I have to think, it’s been two weeks since I applied to the raffle, it said the grand prize was some kind of rare import.

 

                     “Huh, must be an exotic pet, or something that needs air to stay fresh.” Pulling off the top I quickly put it back on, my eyes wide. Did I really just see that? Quickly I take another peek, yes, yes I did. Rare import my ass! Who’d send me a girl? Pulling it open I realize it must be one of those dolls, hopefully its not one of THOSE dolls though, I shudder at the thought and start looking for the on button. Seeing her collar I wonder if it’s there, I touch a finger to it and the doll shudders, I notice shallow breathing, her skins feverish. Quickly I put the box back on, as I do though I realize my finger is bleeding, the collar nicked me somehow. I need to send her back, quickly. Aren’t things like this illegal in the U.S? I don’t know, quick, I run a hand through my hair, the black strands already mussed from wearing  a hat, wait why do I have to think that one? It’s almost as if….as if I was narrating a story or something! I shake my head to clear the strange.

 

              Suddenly the box shakes and the girl removes the lid herself and yawns. I didn’t really look at her before, but she’s pretty cute, a bit younger than me, maybe sixteen or seventeen but…. I slap myself, hard. No! She has to go! Yawning again she looks around and blinks, her eyes are innocent but distant at the same time. Her red hair has black highlights through it and goes past her waist, doing a much better job at covering her rather developed self then the night gown she has on. Looking around she gets up and comes over to me, and I notice how small she is, about five foot one inches or so. She still looks at least sixteen though.

“Good morning Master!” The girl is looking at me strangely, and also looking at something else as I stare in surprise.

“W-w-w-w-WHAT?!?!?!” Finally, my shock shows itself.

“Was Alice not supposed to leave the box? Very well then.” With that she start to get back in the box, though in a rather, unhurried manner.

“W-w-w-wait! Why are you here?” Breaking through the shock I ask this, still confused however.

“Because Master won me, I’m very grateful” she pouts then, may all the gods and angels and anything that can hear me save me from having to see her pout again, it made me feel like I kicked a puppy then ran over while in front of the little girl the dog belonged to. “The place I was at was very unfriendly.”

O-o-ok. So you don’t want to go back?” As soon as I say this her eyes go wide and she starts shaking.

“Ok no going back. What to do with you hmm?” I cross my arms and frown as I think. 

“Master could keep me?” she says it like a question, a hopeful question, but a question.

I run my hand through my hair, sighing heavily.

“I guess?” I don’t have the heart, or lack of one, to throw her out. She might pout again, I don’t think I’d survive it twice. I might even start hating myself if I caused it.

She smiles at me, softly, her expression still slightly detached. I wonder if she thinks I’m going to do something odd.

“Aren’t you?”

“How the hell do you know what I’m thinking?” She points to my previous narration. I sigh. “You aren’t supposed to know that’s there though.” She looks down “B-b-but it’s so big…” flicking her eyes up she blushes. What the fuck is going on again?

“No I’m not going to do anything odd to you. There happy?”

“But what if I wanted you to?”

“No!” She pouts at me. I have to be strong! For the sake of men with honor everywhere, be strong Tom!

“No, and stop pouting, you make me feel like I ki-“

“Kicked a puppy and then ran over it in front of the five year old girl that owns it?” She cuts me off…to quote my narration at me….You know, if someone, anyone out there is reading this, kick my writer…please.

“God damn it! Stop reading the narration!”

“Yes master. Also I agree, kick the writer.”

“And don’t call me master.” Because she agreed, I’ll ignore that one….

“Ok my Owner” She smiles

“…Never mind that’s worse.”

“I know”  I sigh, why does my life suddenly read like a comedy scene?

“Cause it is one?”

“We’re not supposed to know that!” I glare at the writer, why does he keep making us know we’re a scene? That’s just mean!

“He made you do it again.”

“I know, our author is an asshole.”

“At least our narrator is nice.”

“…Flattery.”

“Yes.”

I scratch my head, back to serious matters! Clothing, clothing, hmm what to buy.

“Clothing master? I like old style dresses! A lot!” she giggles, it’s entirely too cute.

“Did you read?”

“No you were speaking out loud this time like a crazy person.” She has a pitying look on her face as she says this…It’s rather disheartening.

She smiles at me and grabs my hand. “Master, before we do anything, did you not want to finish the claiming?”

I blush and stammer “C-c-c-claiming?!?!?!” she looks down and to the side, her face flushed.

“Y-y-yes.” I’m nervous how does this work is it something…like that? I look her over and she laughs.

“Master was thinking something naughty!” I blush more, being tricked like that was mean though.

She takes my hand and the collar around her neck moves, a piece of it coming off and twining around my wrist, a metal hoop forms somehow as I stare in wonder at it, her own collar spins off a length of red velvet rope and a metal name plate forms saying “Alice, bound to Tomas Delvin, in this lifetime and beyond.”

“What are you?”

“A soul doll, we are man made humans made with alchemy. We have incomplete souls that become permanently tied to our first and only partner. We are both thrown into the cycle of rebirth permanently for now on, you’ll have that bracelet and I’ll have the collar for the rest of time.”

“….Really?” I want to seem lost and confused but really…why else would a girl show up in a box?

“It could be a really convoluted setup for the plot of  a spy movie, or this could all be something someone is writing…. ” She’s glaring at you writer, I’m exercising the use of your subconscious to make sure you know that. GLARING…AT…YOU

“Huh cool. Let’s go get you some clothes.”

“You don’t think I’m lying?”

“Why would you lie to your master?”

She puffs her cheeks out and looks away. Huh, maybe my easy acceptance of title made her mad. I laugh, as unlucky as this seems, I think things are going to be pretty fun for me for now on.

“I agree Master”

“STOP READING MY NARRATION! And stop the master stuff, can’t you call me something other than Master and Owner?”

Odd music starts to play  from no where as she looks at me, her face flushed “M-m-my love!”

“Never mind.”

“How about D-d” she seems to be having trouble getting it out “Delvin? Or brother!” She smiles at me “Yes brother!”

….no we are soooooo not going there…..Ever

“Delvin works”

“Does anyone else call you Delvin?”

“Nope”

“Yay!” Such an oddball.

Her cheeks puff out as she gets mad again, guess she read that, fucking asshole writer.

I go to take her hand, but she hands me her leash, I loop it through the metal loop on my bracelet, this is gonna get me some odd looks, I just know it. Oh well time to go shopping, this isn’t going to be fun at all.

“Liar!” I just sigh, and hope that our author grows up eventually…asshole.