My Daughter, Audrey [ON HOLD]

Dearest Peter

Days passed and Jennie spent most of her time in her hotel room calling the advertisement she had found last night.  The line was always busy, or the person on the other line was anything but helpful.  It was quite stressful on Jennie, especially when she would get into heated arguments on whether or not she had something suitable to go in.  Jennie nearly cried during one phone call when the person on the other end prodded her into spilling the controversial relationship Helen had gotten into with Peter. 

               “No!  I don’t have a thing to wear just yet.  Please, let me speak with someone else.  This is an important event that I must attend.”   Jennie said, clutching the tissue in her hand so hard that her hand shook.   “Miss, on my word of honor, I do know Helen Trapp.  I have met her…no, there are personal matters…Miss, will you….will you please let me explain.  I have been through four people now, and none of them are giving me the information I need…yes, I understand that’s confidential.”

               Jennie bit both her lips to keep from screaming.  She returned to the phone when she found herself calm enough to speak.  “I just need a bleeding contact number!”  Jennie let out an exhausted sigh while the lady on the other end gave her reasons why she couldn’t contact Helen.  “Miss, what must I be to get a simple address or phone number to ring or post the woman?   No, miss, I’m not a relative…no, I’m not a close friend either…yes, I only met her once…if I told you I was a dedicated fan that loved her work and even my husband pins her photos on the wall, then would you at least give me a contact for an overly zealous fan?   Oh, you will?  Thank you.  I have a pen and paper in front of me.”   Jennie scribbled down the address while the lady dictated it to her in her annoyingly manly voice.

               “Thank you so much again,” Jennie said in a brighter tone.  She hung up the receiver and folded up the information.   “I think I have another letter to write.”   An expression, not easily played on Jennie’s face, slinked on in the form of deviousness.  She wasn’t going to get back at Helen in any immature way, but perhaps she can get to know some people with lots of money.  She had the charm, she had the experience, and the only person that could stop her was Peter, which brought her to the second letter she had to write.  She wanted to make sure it was alright for her to still continue her job a prostitute. It was high pay for the society classes she was entering, but she had more respect for her love for Peter than the money.  If he said no, which, in a way, she hoped he would, she wouldn’t go through with it.  But if he said, ‘yes, Jennie would go in with no limits.

               Taking out another clean sheet of paper, Jennie took a seat at her desk, clicked the pen to life, and began writing.

Dearest Peter,

               I have arrived safely in America.  It’s so loud, colourful, and a place I can easily get lost in.  You know how I am about directions.   I miss you terribly, and wish I hadn’t left.  But I believe I am to be here for now; for Audrey.  I found a brochure of a Christmas Eve party being held in Helen’s honour, I plan on going if I can get a reservation.  Oh, what it takes to get one!  I just got off the line with one lady, thankfully she was able to give me an address where I can reach Helen by.  I would like to see if she can let me in—if she is all into commotions and attention, having me there will give her a jolly time.  I’m not looking for trouble; I just want to visit Audrey.  I pray she’s safe.  I have a question that I want you to seriously consider before you answer.  If I am to make it Christmas Eve, I hope to have some paying customers.  They’ll pay well.  But I am in love more with our marriage than anything else in the world.  Search your soul, and let me know honestly.  I don’t want to do anything that’ll pull us farther apart.

               I love you dearly.  Respond soon.  Yours only, Jennie

               Jennie smiled fondly and ran a soft finger over the drying ink.  She folded the letter and put it aside.  “Now, letter two.”  Jennie took out another sheet and placed it between her elbows.  She rested her chin on her elevated palm and stared at the walls, as if her answers would be written there,   When she found a proper beginning, she placed her pen on the page and carefully wrote out her letter to Helen.

Ms. Helen Trapp,

               I ask that you do not stop here in this letter, but read through every word until you come to my signature.   I am hoping to attend the Christmas Eve party in your name.   I am no fan of yours, but I am the wife of Peter Holmes.   I come only to see Audrey, and hopefully make some ease between us.   Though, through your monstrous deeds, I have hopes that we may become friendly acquaintances.  I promise not to be a bother; I am not going for conflict reasons, only to see Audrey.  I wouldn’t want to break a promise with her.   And if I dare ask, I would like to meet you and Audrey in your private home. 

               Sincerely and truly, Jennifer Rachel Holmes    

               Jennie sealed both letters in the prepared envelopes, licked them shut, and took them down to the lobby’s post office where she hoped they would arrive safely to their destinations.  Especially hers to Peter, she had heard that oversea mail could be lost.  

               “Hello, I’m wishing to post these letters, where do I send them at?”  Helen asked a passing bellboy.

               “Just in that room across the piano,” the boy replied with a directional point of his finger.  He began to part ways from Jennie before he asked a flattering question, “Hey, you don’t mind me asking, are you a model?”

               Jennie flushed and if Peter was with her, she would have hid behind him.  “No, but thank you.”

               “Aw, you should, miss.  You’re gorgeous!”

               “Thank you, sir, you are too kind.” 

               “Just stating the truth, ma’am.  Have a nice day!”

               “Same to you,” Jennie said quietly.  She never liked being complimented, not because she didn’t like it in of itself, but because she never knew how to respond.  Jennie headed to the small, cubical post office and waited in line.  She looked at the letter to Helen and wondered if she should mail it.  She stared at it, wondering if going to the party was the right thing to do.   The address to Helen became fuzzy and Jennie began second-guessing her decision.   She was about to walk out of the office and rewrite the letter before she was called up.   Looking as if she had swallowed a canary, Jennie stepped forward, her large, doe eyes even large.

               “One is international,” Jennie whispered, taking out her coin purse.  She froze for a moment to watch the woman take the letter to Helen and stamp.  There was no turning back now.