The Trixie Motel ✔ ~ trixya

Chapter 8: How Are You?

"Trixie, there's a letter for you." Trixie heard her new receptionist, Ron, say.

6 months had passed since Katya had left the motel, and yet the brown eyed girl still thought about the fascinating woman daily.

Alot had changed over the months that had gone. Amy had left the motel to start beauty school, and Trixie had gained Ron and Jeff as receptionists instead.
They all got along nicely, all having a similar type of humor, allthough Ron constantly teased Trixie about her reception phones being pink.
It was fine tho, Trixie constantly teased Ron about his favorite movie being The Green Mile.

They finally had a bar, Trixie being adamant about the motel having a bar in case the Russian woman would ever to return. A girl named Tatianna had started as their bartender, she was good, sometimes they'd find her just wandering around aimlessly at the end of the night tho because she'd had too much herself, but she was good with customers so Trixie kept her on.

"Really? Who'd be sending me a letter?" Trixie asked no one in particular as she stepped out of her office to get the letter from the redheaded man.

"Here you go, Trix." The man stated as he handed a small white envelope to her.

"Thanks Ron." She said as she took it and returned to her office.

She sat down in her black faux leather chair and ripped the envelope open, pulling the white piece of paper out of it to read it's contents.

Dear Trixie.

Have you been good?

I hope so.

I do not know how I am doing.

There is blue water here with mountain reflecting in it, so I think of you. I hope there will be field of flowers on other side, but I do not think there is. In dream world, there would be pink flower road leading back to you.
But life is never like dream.

Life has been like before which I feel is bad thing. I miss days at your motel, even if it lacked bar.

I should have forgotten you, but I could not.

Let me see, what is there to tell?

Oh yes, last week I was mowed by bear. I am okay. It was nice, reminded me of childhood. I was mowed by bear at age 3, it sent me straight to puberty, you can imagine the jealousy of other kids. My mother was very happy tho, no more crying from vicious baby.

You know, I always got feeling that she did not like me very much.
She would tell bedtime story, always the same one, she would say;

"Kathinka, the moment you were born is a moment from which I will never physically, emotionally, or spiritually recover.
It was as if the devil himself rose up from hell, wrenched apart my legs, and transformed my pelvis into a food processor, churning my inners into this hellish stew of blood from which your bulbous head appeared.
And then you let out such a deafening scream that I could not handle the fact that this was now the horror soundtrack of my life."

You see what I mean?
Very odd woman.

I have other news, sadly not happy news.

The man I went to dinner with on last night in LA, I think Alexej will try to make my new husband.
I do not want, but I do not know how to escape situation.

It brings danger to tell you these things, but you are only person in world that I trust.
The world is a horrible place filled with atrocities at every turn.
People will lie, cheat and steal from you even the most cherished friends.
This is what I always remind myself, but for some reason I still trust you.

I often think of night we shared, perhaps we could get similar night again?

Will you do me favour?

Send fake free trip to your motel so I can sneak away, even if just for one night. Please?
I left address for postal office box on the back of letter, as I am not allowed to say where I am.

If I am to spend life having to do sex to old, gross man, I would at least like to have one more night with you.
So please send fake trip invite.
Of course, only if you want.

We might not be able to walk flower road, but maybe we can stay in flowery field between mountain tops for just one more night?

If you do not want, I just want to say, it was nice to write down some of my thoughts and tell someone who might care about how my life is going.

Please remember me, as I will you.
I know I said I would forget, but it is impossible to do. You are very memorable, кукла.
Mother Russia would be mad if she knew all the impure thoughts I have of American same sex partner.
But I do not care.
Fuck Mother Russia.

I hate to admit it, but I miss you, Trixie.

With respect,
Katya.

Trixie was speechless, unsure of wether to feel heartbroken for Katya, break out in laughter from the woman's insane anecdotes, or smile from Katya's words of care and longing.

As the brown eyed girl looked over the letter again she realised she had work to do.

"Ron, Jeff, you guys know how to use photoshop, right?" Trixie yelled.

She would do Katya the favour, she would do anything to get the Russian woman to return, even if just for one night.

One night with Katya was better than a lifetime with anyone else.