Love Letters From Seattle

1

"Would you like ice or hot?" The barista asks me, while strumming her fingers on the counter impatiently.

"Ice, please." I answer, whipping out my wallet to look for some dollars.

"That would be $5.31."

I pull out four dollars from my wallet. I begin to dig for extra change. Sweat starts to roll down from my forehead as I realize I'm a dollar and twenty cents short.

"Ma'am, there's like ten people behind you." The barista nags me, as if I didn't know there was other people waiting to order their damn coffee. 

"Here," I hear a low voice from behind me. "Take it." The stranger places a few dollars into my shaking palm.

I turn around to face him. He was a very handsome man. With his mahogany brown hair cascading over his chiseled cheekbones, he looked every bit the tall, dark, and handsome archetype. Standing at around 6'4, he exuded a natural confidence and elegance. His fit and skinny frame only added to his allure, making heads turn whenever he moved an inch. It was no wonder that he caught the eye of many admirers with his striking appearance and charismatic presence. 

He was waiting for my response, his eyes warm brown eyes were locked onto to my dull blue eyes.

"Thank you so much." I managed to get out, taking his money. Thankfully I didn't stutter in front of this gorgeous man.

"Of course." He responds with a charming smile.

I noticed that he gave me more than I needed. It looked like twenty bucks. "Are you sure you want to give me all of this? I just needed a dollar and few cents."

"Oh my god, can you hurry up already?" An older woman snaps in line.

The man waves me off, ignoring the rude boomer. "It's no problem, just keep it."

I thank him again and pay for my iced cappuccino. After taking my receipt, I head towards the waiting area. I pull out my phone and look at recent messages from my dad and sister.

Dad: Where are you??

Lindsay: Alexis why aren't you answering your phone? Dad has called you over a million times. We need to talk.

I sigh and shut my phone off. I couldn't go home yet, I haven't finished what I started.

My boyfriend of five years died three months ago of cancer. And he never told he was sick until after his cancer progressed to stage 4. He died the next day after telling me. I was in hysterics and complete denial. I screamed at him for keeping this from me for over a year. I was angry at him for refusing treatment as well.

3 months ago

"How could you keep this from me?" I sobbed into his chest. Mason began stroking my hair as I cried harder into his blue sweater, the one I bought him for Christmas about three years ago.

"I didn't want our last year together to be filled with heartbreak. I wanted to keep you happy, Lex."

I looked up at him with my mascara smeared eyes. "Then please get the chemo. Let's try, baby, p-please do this for me. You have to fight for us."

Mason looked away from me and held his breath for a few seconds before responding. "I'm dying, Lex. It's stage four. I don't think I'll even hold on till the end of the night."

But he did hold on till the end of the night. Mason Moore kept himself alive for over fifteen hours for me. He told me that himself as me and the rest of his family surrounded him at his death bed.