The Last Letter, Page 2

the day, mercifully consoling Marie from the agony, solitude and loneliness that still remained from the night before.

  “Friends can work miracles.” she thought, thankful to have one thing unchanged in her life.

  Still having homework and tasks around the house, she made an attempt to go through some sort of routine in her weekend, although she stayed at home instead of going out.

  She had this fear that she would see a couple holding hands or hear a song that brought back memories, and that would be it. At least at home, she could control the things that surrounded her, at least that’s what she’d hoped.

  As the family sat down for dinner that evening, the four of them had their usual conversations that usually began with her father complaining about some project he was doing around the house. Sometimes, Marie would share stories about her job at the vet although her Mother disliked hearing them since some of the stories concerning the animals could be heart wrenching.

  Tonight, of all nights, her father chose to ask a question that he rarely if ever asked before.

  “I haven’t heard anything about Phillip lately. How’s he doing at school?”

  Marie felt as though someone had driven one of the table knives straight into her heart and tears filled her eyes. Her father immediately asked what’s wrong followed by her mother. Wiping the tears with her napkin, Marie proceeded to tell them what had happened the night before. As she finished speaking, her father said,

  “I’m sorry Marie. I never would have asked that question if…”

  “No, Papa, how could you ever know? Besides, you never thought too much of him anyway, did you?”

  Her father frowned sitting back in his chair and replied,

  “I’m your father little one. I don’t know if I could ever see enough in any man to be worthy of you. Don’t ever take my opinions for too much. You just be happy.”

  Marie walked around the table, hugged her father and said,

  “Thank you Papa, Je’ taime”

  He returned her embrace and gave a kiss on her head. Her mother gently grasped her arm as she passed by.

  “So are you OK?” she asked.

  Marie sat back down in her chair. pulled her hair to one side and replied,

  “Yes, I’m OK. I just wish there was something I could say to Phillip to make him, well…I just wish I knew how to respond to his little “message”.”

  Her mother nodded her head,

  “You’ll think of something although you owe him nothing at this point. You don’t have to tell him anything if you don’t want to.”

  Marie shook her head and stared down at food left on her plate.

  “Oh, but I do want to respond, I really do.”

  At that moment she realized that her Grandmother was completely silent through this whole conversation. She was normally a bit on the reserved and dignified side but her current silence through the fray seemed more noticeable than usual. Marie paid no mind to it.

  “After all, she is getting older.” she thought.

  Her train of thought was broken by the hum of her phone.

  It was her best friend Rocklin. Looking briefly at the screen she announced,

  “I’m heading back upstairs now ok?”

  Her father nodded and her mother took hold of her hand once more as she passed by.

  “Sure sweetheart, if you need anything you’ll tell me won’t you? Don’t worry, it will all work out.”

  As it turned out, her evening was becoming an extension of her day. Endless conversations from people saying that Phillip was no good for her were combined with the repetitive messages of how she will be better off on her own.

  The sincere words were comforting but hardly removed the feeling of abandonment and lost love that still burned inside of her. It was also no inspiration for how to respond to him. She had taken the last bit of wine from dinner up to her room and drank it down. She then began to think it would be best, to put down her phone and turn off the world for the evening giving her time to figure out things on her own. She laid back on her bed with some music playing softly in the background.

  Suddenly, Marie had that feeling she wasn’t alone and looked up to see her Grandmother at the exact moment she knocked on the doorway.

  “Can I come in Marie?” she asked.

  “Of course Grandma, What’s wrong?”

  “It would appear that there is much wrong in your life right now, yes?”

  Marie smiled and nodded. She could see that her Grandmother was holding a thick pile of letters that were yellowed and tied with a green ribbon. Without any pause or explanation, her Grandmother said,

  “Did you know that my Grandmother Marie had a relationship with a young man back in her younger days? In fact she was even younger than you are now.”

  Marie shook her head no.

  “She did!” her grandmother remarked strongly.

  “More than that, the bastard of a human broke her heart, much the same as Phillip did with you.”

  Marie sat quietly not really knowing what to say. Her Grandmother moved to the edge of the bed to sit and cursed in pain as she sat down.

  “Damn these knees, I’m surprised they bend at all anymore!”

  With an long and low exhalation of air, she settled onto the bed.

  “Marie, what do you know about your Great Great Grandmother?”

  Marie had been told the usual facts about her over and over again to the point of monotony and began to quote them.

  “Well, I know she was born in Calais France in the 1800’s and lived in Paris when she got older. I also know that her name was Marie and that’s how I got my name. She got married and her husband, um pardon or I should say your Grandfather, was from Belgium. His name was Cesar.”

  Her Grandmother smiled and nodded her head seemingly pleased that she knew their family history.

  “You forgot one very important thing.”

  As her Grandmother began say the words, Marie spoke at the same time in an sort of joking imitation saying the exact words in unison.

  “You both have the same eyes!”

  Marie laughed.

  “Oh Mon Dieu! Grand Mama, how could I not know that? I‘ve heard it a million times.”

  Her Grandmother nodded, smiled and then began to fiddle with the letters in her hand.

  “I wanted you to see these letters Marie and I want you to see them for a very important reason.

  These are some personal letters that your Grandma Marie wrote and also received from the boy who broke her heart. I just thought that maybe if you look them over, you might find a way to tell Phillip what you want to say.”

  Marie looked at her Grandmother warmly and held out her hand to take the letters. Then she hugger her.

  “This is nice of you Grandma, I’ll look at them.”

  Marie glanced dowm at the ancient letters in her hands.

  “Thank you for trying to help me. I just don’t know if a person who lived in the 1800’s could know what I’m going through.”

  To Marie’s surprise, her Grandmother began to laugh quite loudly which was unusual for her to do. Smiling and looking in Marie’s eyes, she lifted a wrinkled hand that appeared speckled and frail. The contrast of her hand against the smooth white porcelain like skin of Marie’s face made it look all the more drastic in its aged appearance.

  “Child”, she said warmly touching her cheek.

  “Times change like the wind and the weather, but people? They stay the same.”

  She let out a little grunt as she pushed herself back to her feet and walked toward the door. Just before she left the room she turned and said,

  “I don’t know if these letters will give you anything except a headache. They’re written in French but they are difficult to read and translate using the style of the present day. You be the judge.”

  Marie nodded her head.

  “I will. Thank you Grandma”.

  “Your welcome Marie.”

>   Marie watched as her Grandmother labored slowly back down the creaky wooden hallway to her room. She then looked once more at the letters in her hand.

  Although touched that her Grandmother had gone to the trouble of doing this for her, Marie felt certain about the absolute unusable nature of these letters. Looking at a date on one of them of November 6th, 1884 she smiled.

  She then recalled the intense love that she and Phillip had for one another once upon a time. They were each others first love, intimate in every way. They spoke of being married one day when they were older and done with school. As Marie recalled those moments, the tears again flooded her eyes and drove her to that place she was trying desperately to escape from. With a smug opinion now forming to reject these letters, she thought,

  “How could there be any words in these letters that could compare with my life now. How could they help me feel better not knowing the things I’ve lost. These people lived in another era.

  They probably held hands in a carriage on the way to church one Sunday!”

  She smirked and shook her head thinking,

  “Oh my! Such scandalous behavior for a Victorian woman of the day.”

  Marie was about to carry the letters over to her desk and place them aside for the evening, but she caught a glimpse of a tattered fold of one letter in the middle of the stack. It displayed part of a sentence that showed the French words “souffle chaud sur ma nuque”.

  I translated to English as “warm breath on my neck”.

  Marie focused on the letter closer to make sure she was interpreting the words the right way. A second inspection verified her translation to be correct.

  “Powerful words for Victorian voices.” she thought, and immediately removed the green ribbon from stack,