Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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73
*continued from 73G*
Ernesto carried it in on a Monday morning, the way he does with all letters, his face twisting in surprise seeing Clementine's name on the letter.
"Para você," he said, handing it to her. For you.
Clementine arched her eyebrows in surprise.
She was lounging on the couch, reading a book, but sat right on up when she saw the from address. It was from Santa Teresa, and she knew that address by heart. Anything to do with him, she remembered like the back of her hand.
This time, it;s been a month since that stupid party. Since she went home in that taxi, trying to reckon with the fact that after what they've been 'doing'...he left her and found a 'girlfriend'...as if it was so easy for him to leave her. Thinking he hated her, that he wanted nothing to do with her anymore...that she didn't matter to him,, she hadn't heard back from him again. And she never bothered responding to his message.
Though she did have a strange feeling the days following that party, of him thinking about her. Like it always takes him a few days and by the time he understands its always too late.
This time though, it was her hands that were trembling as she opened the letter, not trying to be careful. She wondered to herself if it was really from him, and what were the chances, anyway.
It was from him, but it also wasn't.
Her heart caught in her throat as she saw that it was an invitation. To a funeral.
Scanning her eyes down the paper quickly, she breathed out a huge sigh of relief when she saw that it wasn't his for God's sake.
Because, at the bottom of the letter was his messy handwriting.
It's Ed. Please come.
That's it, no other explanation.
It was a bit morose. Okay, she lied, really morose. His roommate died, and he wanted her to be there. Why was it that death hung around like a heat that couldn't be beat around their relationship.
And yet, when she thought that their relationship had died, here it was, being levied in the strangest way possible.
She wondered why, however, if she wanted this so much, channeling so much of her energy into desiring it, why did she not feel the way she thought she would have. Seeing him come back like this. Maybe she knew somehow that he would, but not like this, she thought.
She stuffed the letter back in the envelope, and walking back to her room, she shoved it into the back of a drawer.
She did't want to think about this right now. Couldn't afford to. It was too much.
Instead, she pulled out another paper in the back of that same drawer. One she stuffed away a long time ago.
It was the name and address of a healer. Someone Laticia referred her to, someone she hadn't thought of in a long time. Forgot about, until now.
