A Letter Away From You

Chapter 3

"Darling!" A knock bristled the strands of my door. First, the train. Now this. Could you guys just leave me be, get on with your business, and call it a night? "Yes mom?" I coughed a strained yawn. Sure, after 'waking' up her studious, academic, and evidently clever student, she'd feel guilty right? "I got class tomorrow, what is it?" I carried on with my awaken act. Although this time, my jaws gaped for real. Who wouldn't get heavy-eyed after living through that near-death situation. I pinched myself, I was overreacting again.

 "It arrived, the letter just arrived." Finally, my mother had brought promising news in such a long time. I sprang out of bed looking like how a pea would be harvested out of its pod. Except my comforter's the pod. Eh. "It's at the table, dear." She uttered, pouncing every step down to the kitchen. 

Even from a distance, with my bedroom door as a barrier. I could make out the smirk Mom's put on her face. I put on my round eyeglasses, my heart accelerating at a rapid pace. I got on my feet, and stretched myself over to the window. Through a small opening in my room, my two set of eyes were hooked into a bright and shining light. The gloom of the night wasn't even a match for this. 

A beacon of hope. 

Sure, it was just the blue-suited mailman and his worn-out bike. Gosh, how much do mailing companies pay them? But I wasn't ecstatic about who was outside, rather about what was in that letter he delivered. Even if it was Obama or James Franco, I couldn't care less. Just kidding, I'll take the last one back.

"Coming, mom!" A couple minutes ago, this was just going to be a pretty normal and usual sleeping routine. The fall wasn't a part of the plan. 

However, this turned out to be, if not the best, the greatest summer night I've ever had. 

As I hurried downstairs, I caught a glance of Gibs dozing like a baby. Of course Faye, he's still a 2 year old heap of cuteness.

"Slowly dear, your brother's sleeping." In a calm tone, Mom alluded me. I tip toed, increasing my chances of not waking up the little boy as if the constant wailing in my room never happened. 

My nostrils hooked a savor which didn't feel like home. "What's the cooking for?" I cracked at her. She rarely cooks my favorite. 

I scampered to our 5-seated dining table, and grabbed myself a seat. With caution, I snatched the piece of paper across me. Tearing it would be disastrous. My eyes marveled at what it could possibly contain,  although I already had a gist of its content. 

"To Faye Fowler" I grinned. 

Letters. I only receive a few of these from time to time. Opening this clump of characters sleeved in a brown envelope was like everyday Christmas for me. Did they put parfum on these? The aroma's quite pleasant. 

To me, the letters that matter the most are either from my long-distanced pen pal....

Pen pal? A lover? My boyfriend? Maybe, he thinks of me as his friend, or even worse, his go-to runaway boo when other girls dump him. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Screw him. 

Anyways, it was either from him, or... "From France Writers' Federation" I boasted of my achievement to my mom.  It isn't that complex to distinguish normal letters from the Federation's. The Federation keeps it very elegant, implementing an old school approach in delivering their messages. Archaic brown envelopes, characters inked in a pitch black tusche, and a fancy hint of red wine scented in their paper.

Securing a letter such as this was like a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. Except this wasn't perchance, it was gained through effort. A beaming smirk was presented throughout my face, it isn't everyday you get to receive something like this.

"I was born a New Yorker, grew a New Yorker, and thought I'd die a New Yorker." A rush of excitement pierced me, to the point I voiced out my thoughts.  "Calm down, darling." She laid down her wooden ladle, drenched in her homemade sauce. Mom, you calm down, your smile might even topple the Eiffel Tower.

"Go on, continue reading." She was overjoyed herself. 

Greetings aspiring writer, 

Congratulations! This letter is written to you in reference to France Writers' Federation's "Annual Literature Workshop". You are invited to be a part of this year's workshop. Also, your work, "Journey of a Million Nightmares" has piqued our interest so much it earned you a chance to have your name recorded at the Bulletin de l'écrivain 2018 (2018 Writer's Bulletin). That is, if you approve of your work be publicized and published. Send us a response as early as possible. See you this June our dear writer.

Salut!

"You deserve this dear." Mom fluttered her joy towards me, snuggling a gentle embrace. I didn't know what made me dance atop the decks of our rustic flooring; a ticket to the iconic City of Love, or the mouthwatering essence of freshly cooked orange chicken. Mom handed a plate piled high with crispy chicken over some white rice. At this point, I'm slowly becoming Asian. 

I quickly devoured what was in front of me. I'm sure at this rate I might win an eating competition. My belly was growling I even forgot to thank God for the meal. And for the achievement too. I'm sure He'll just understand. 

"You should cook this more often." I added a comment, hoping she would consider it.

"Don't speak while your mouth is full." She complained. "You're spitting expensive ingredients, but you're excused this time."

"Seconds mom." My appetite longed for more, not knowing diarrhea might be waiting at the edge of my stomach. A few minutes after my second serving, I could already feel multiple components overflowing my tummy. 

"I'll clean up, just go upstairs and sleep." She smiled at me. "You've got school tomorrow." She added.

 Soon after, the prolonged night of surprises was over. I hastened to my room, ready to dream about the possible scenes I would have in Paris. Baffled at the chaotic state my room was in, my body was quickly anchored down my bumpy mattress. I'll just clean tomorrow. 

Just when I was about to flick off my lampshade, a bell rang from the outdated laptop I had across the bed. Out of curiosity, I lifted the top of the gadget, only to discover a notification from my email. A notification that put me into a good night's rest.

Good evening Faye, how are you doing? I just got your email, but I eventually felt the need to give a response. It's winter here, I had chills and couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep especially with a message like that. We've talked to each other for about six years now, I'd also like to see you. Do you remember when you said you dreamed about being in a forest full of trees with pink leaves? Guess what, I had the same dream just recently. Destiny? Maybe. Someday in the future, let's meet where they have those kind of trees. When we get older, when we reach our dreams, when we graduate from college. Sixth of June, the very day you sent your first letter. Good night Faye. - Sincerely Yours, Uri.