Brown Penny

Love Letter: To Jenny, From Boot February 7, 2012

It had not stopped raining all evening, the dark grey clouds scudding across the city skyline until they were swallowed by night. The relentless downpour confided people to their homes, blanketing the street so that all that was audible outside was the occasional swish of tyres on a wet road, or the gurgle of swollen drains, or the brisk footsteps of someone trying to get home.

There were no messages on her answer phone, no winking envelopes suggesting a text message on her mobile. Her emails were confined to junk mails. Her facebook notifications indicated to zilch. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, sipping her second glass of Rum and rereading the text messages brawling and clamoring at her. There lay those letters, which she had begun to believe were only a figment of her imagination, and here were those text messages. She dodged glances between the two. It is nine hours since she left their apartment, but her mind is still humming. She sees the idyllic Boot; his eyes playfully teasing and searching only for his Jenny. She pictures her cosily cuddling with him, she sees her being adamant, being obstinate and yet being pampered by him.
Thiers, she thinks, was a ‘love’ affair that meant something. He was a man who cracked himself open in front of the woman he loved; he sought to understand her and tried to protect her, even from herself.  What did she have? A career falling into an abyss each day, no friends and a feelingless partner who hated the word ‘care’.

She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but she feels angry, mournful, nihilistic. She pours another glass, cries, and rereads their letter again. Like Jenny, she now feels she knows those words by heart.

Being without you – even a few kilometers away – brings me a strange uneasiness of its own. I don’t know what more to say, because I am no speaker but one thing I know for sure is that I love you, I love you very much, and I wanna keep taking care of you just like this for the rest of my life.

She pictures her beau John standing right in front of her, hears him saying the words to her, and alcohol makes the two blur into each other – Boot and John. How does one lift one’s own life out of the mundane and into something epic? Surely one should be brave enough to ‘love’, isn’t it? She pulls her mobile phone from her bag, something dark and bold creeping under her skin. She flips it open to send a text to John, her fingers offish on the keys:

‘Please call. Just once. Need to hear from you please.’

She is giddy as she struggles with the send button. She knows he won’t respond. Conundrum. She presses the delete button.
Her head sinks into her hands and she weeps for Boot, for Jenny; she cries for herself, because nobody will ever love her like he loves Jenny. She cries because she is afraid of her own self, of her thoughts because she makes herself feel miserable and pitiful all the time.

She poleaxes her head subconsciously when she hears the door bell, she gets up to see.

“Hey fatso! Oh my God, scary fatso!”
She blinks, “Rory.”
“Nope, let his ghost in.”
She bites her lip and leans against the wall. There is a brief silence.
He eyes at her with a questioning countenance. She grimaces. “Not been a great evening.It’s fine if you want to go.” He takes another look around, “Well, drunkard! Where’s the tea pan?”
“It was a weird day. I, I -” suddenly she begins to cry again, tears pouring. “I’m sorry I’m soo- I don’t know why I am being so ridiculous.” She feels a hand on her shoulder, “Hey!” he says softly, “Hey, Shhh.. there’s nothing to worry.”
How would you know? She thinks. Nobody knows what is like me. I’m not even sure I know. He gathers her, trying to calm her down, “You’re beautiful and graceful and intelligent. Okay, perhaps not graceful”, he winks. She rests her head against his shoulder.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of?”
Her voice drops to a whisper, “I’m afraid nobody will ever love me like that.”
His eyes softened, his face shrunk a little, as if in sympathy. He picked up the letter and read aloud:

The day I first saw you, I was too shy to even come up and talk to you, and when you talked to me, words refused to come out. I’ve acted weird, I’ve acted crazy just to be noticed by you! I made a joke of myself when I bent down on my knees at the taxi station, but all that teasing of my friends seemed nothing when I got that worldly smile from you. Yes, you blushed! That expression, I have deep stored inside my heart.
Your smile means everything to me and I can go through any suffering to bring that.

She had closed her eyes. His voice, soft as cotton. She imagines how Jenny must have felt to be loved, adored, wanted.

I am not as good as you, but being with you, it makes me feel as if I’m something too. You are my most precious gift which I’ll always keep delicately safe with me.

Suddenly, she is driven out of it, she realizes it was – A dream. She still lays miserably with scattered letters and the Rum bottle.
Presently, -she would die for a hug right now.