P.S I Love You (A Sequel to Ain't She Sweet)

Chapter 9

I awoke to the sound of Char's slippers against the carpeted floor, rushing this way and that way.

I bolted up, the noise scaring me from a dream. "Char, what are you doing?"

"Can't do this anymore, neither can you. I'm going downstairs to find out about the post office/mail delivery info, and to use the phone. I'm calling Paul straight from this hotel and I'm making it urgent too. Come with." she said quickly, throwing on a light blue robe and tying it around her waist. I was fed up, she was right. I got up, grabbed my matching robe, threw a pair of Toms on and rushed downstairs with Char, making sure I had the roomkey. Sheesh, how much longer could we pay for this place?

We reached the lobby, Charlee rushing up to the Guest Services stand.

"Hi, is there a way to send mail from this location? And can mail come in? Not to mention I'd like to make a phonec-"

"Oh, I am terribly sorry we don't have post delivery here. International phone line was cut off, no posts here."

Charlee and I looked at each other. What?! So we were in a hotel thats been isolating us from any sign of communication?! No post, no phone. Oh my god. 

"What?! So you're saying no mail comes to or from this hotel? And no phone lines, only locally?"

"Um, yes ma'm." The japanese woman said, nodding. "But you can run to our international  post office, its only down the street. They have mobile phone there as well."

"Wha-lets go! They probably sent mail." 

Robes, slippers? Not a thought was given that morning. We rushed over to the post office, waiting in line and filling in our name to see if any letters had arrived. Yes! Yes, two letters from...James Paul McCartney.

Charlee squealed, grabbing the letters. "Oh, thank god! He did write to us! Sheesh, I'm so-no letters from....from John.." she trailed off, searching the pile of mail from our particular area.

"Are you sure?" I asked, lip quivering.

"Yeah...thats okay. Keep calm, Em, lets read Paul's and see whats up, no worries." she said, trying to keep me from crying. We walked back to the hotel and up to the room.

She ripped open the first letter.

My darling Charlee,

Charlee! I am praying to the Lord you recieve this letter! I am worried sick about you, we all are. Emily as well. John is completely devastated and will not participate in anything unless having to do with the band. He really is a wreck and so am I. What part of Japan are you in, where are you my Charlee? We need to speak A.S.A.P or I will start a search party...if you are reading this, please make it urgent and reply back!

Paul McCartney

She ripped open the other letter from about a few days ago...the day of the BBC Live performance.

Charlee,

Please, please answer this letter. We are desperate, and worried sick. I haven't eaten in a few days, and the only thing we can manage to do together (John and I) is eat a few meals and write two to three songs. John has not eaten in days and we are constantly biting our nails off. I hope you aren't hurt. Send back, send back, send back.  Please don't ignore us, we're worried sick. Tell Emily to write to us as well, or the both of you. We need to reach you.

Paul

Charlee gasped. "And to think they've been like this for a month! What are we doing, Em, grab a pen and paper we have to write back." she said, biting her lip and grabbing a piece of hotel notebook paper, the pad by the phone. (Which is stupid because the phone line is horrid here!)