The Letter

1.

She wasn't ready. If she knew only one thing, it was that she wasn't ready. It hadn't been long enough, not nearly long enough, there should be more time. But with a glance at the piece of paper in her hand, she knew that time had run out only too quickly. She had thought she would have been older, more prepared for it, but it was going to come one day she knew, and she shouldn't have let it come as such a shock. With a deep cleansing and calming breath, she forced herself to walk to the kitchen. 

The scent of lavender, which was growing peacefully in the window, immediately eased her biting nerves. She looked around the room, and felt a longing, a great sadness and loneliness eat into her soul. The mismatched cupboards, painted in lime green and ocean blue, still warred eternally with the sunny yellow of the walls. She gently set the letter down on the table, and set about making herself a cup of lemon and honey tea. Simple routine to calm herself, to stop the sweat from beading her brow and to stop the tremors which seemed to run from her head to her toes. Her heart raced a mile in her throat, as she poured boiling water into the cup and added a slice of lemon, along with a generous spoon of honey. She stirred slowly, left, left, left, right. Two gentle taps, and then a small sip to taste.

'Hmm,' She murmured, satisfied for the moment that this at least, she had control over. With tea cup and saucer in hand, she made her way across the kitchen to the table. The old Mahogany she had saved from her neighbors trash skip, bore its war wounds with pride in her kitchen, never afraid that she would discard it for merely being ugly. A large Shamrock had been carved in the center at some point, and she had not been able to see something so beautiful destroyed. With a coaster placed between her saucer and the table, she sat in the nearest chair and reached again for the letter which had so unsettled her.

We write to inform you that there is to be a reunion of your classmates. You are invited to join us at Bentley Town Hall, on the 25^th of February at 9.00am.

Such a small letter, merely a note really, yet it filled her with such a confusion of emotions. Dread, fear, concern, uncertainty, and yet also a very powerful longing. Although she had been hoping for a few more years, she couldn't really have expected to feel any different at a later date than she did upon receiving the letter today. Twenty two was such a young age for a reunion, but she couldn't deny that it was precisely the right time for it. Whether she was ready or not did not factor into it, and even if it did, there was nothing she could do about it now. One week, and she was to meet her old class again. One week. Such a short time, and yet a whole lifetime. She had just enough time to prepare herself as best she could. The letter itself was not so ominous, after all she did not fear the reunion itself, only what it might reveal. However, the hand scrawled message on the bottom of the page, was quite a different matter.

Please remember to bring the item with you.

Of all things she feared in the world, this one small sentence immediately outclassed them all. Though shrouded in a clever polite phrase, there was no doubt about the order. The letter rustled, as her hand quivered, and she gently lowered the piece of paper to the table. Trembling hands went to the cup of tea, and the china clinked slightly, as she raised the cup and took a comforting sip. She set the cup upon its saucer, and pushed herself from the chair, the legs loudly breaking the silence with an offensive scraping. She turned around and looked in the mirror that hung on the fires mantle piece. Her breaths came in shallow bursts as she stared at her reflection. Wide green eyes stared back at her sadly, as long auburn hair framed her face with light curls that fell well beyond her shoulders. With a tremor of indecision, she made towards the living room, which was cluttered with books, pages and magazines everywhere you could see. However, she could not bring herself to leave the kitchen with her mind in conflict, so she instead turned to the back corner of the kitchen and came to a halt at the cupboard beneath the stairs. She took a deep breath and reached out to the little doors handle, her hand trembling uncontrollably.

'No..!' She whispered, dropping her hand as if burned, she rushed from the cupboard to the back door and then blindly grabbed her coat from the rack. She opened the door, and hesitated for only one last brief glimpse of the cupboard door as she donned her coat, before she shut the door with a soft bang, and hurried to find some fresher air.

Light and quick as a darting fox she hurried down the driveway and turned right down the little lane, making her way towards the School, although she had no destination in mind other than just somewhere else. She walked at a brisk pace, her desire to escape the past her sole driving force. She did not stop and wave to the children who scrambled to the fence to see her as she passed. She did not stop to chat with the young postman as he collected letters from the small postbox at the end of the road. She focused on her feet, watching first one of them push their way into her view of the pavement, before being overtaken by the other foot. This pattern continued, until she made it to the main road.

At last she paused and took a deep, steadying breath as she gazed around her. She dared not pause for long however, and within moments, she was in motion again. She took another right, crossed the road and walked at a steadier pace past The Reformed Baptist Church, looking now to the small cottages, bungalows and other houses as she walked. People bustled everywhere, life in its most natural state. She watched the birds scatter into the air as she came too close for their comfort. She looked at the small shop at the junction, closed now for several years despite many attempts from the small town to keep it open. As she passed one house, she briefly to admire a handmade dolls house for sale at the end of someone's drive. A small but brightly colored label marked it as forty pounds.

'Over-priced...' She mused to no one in particular, although she did admit that it was handsomely built. She continued on her way, walking slower now that her initial burst of need had burnt out. She watched builders as they talked with an owner who was having their entire driveway rebuilt from scratch, though from the opposite side of the road, she had no intention of trying to eaves drop. She saw a familiar scowl from the house window, and recognized the rarely seen Mrs Foley. She smiled and waved cheerfully, and the scowling face disappeared entirely.

After crossing the road, she was now on the left hand side, and only a few steps further, she came to a sudden halt. Her heart was banging a full percussion in her ears, racing so hard she thought it might escape her completely. Keeping her eyes on the pavement, she turned to her left and shuffled forward enough that anyone walking could still get past her, without having to travel out of their way.

Not ready, not ready, not ready. She thought, her mind a whirling storm of countless thoughts. Not ready, not ready, not ready. Hesitantly, though with a great determination, she raised her head. Her eyes first latched onto the cobbles of the parking area, and with a brief glance to the right she saw the recycling banks. Her view swung back to the car park, and raised themselves fully.

Bentley Town Hall.

Her eyes prickled with tears, though she did not feel the sharp sting of pain she had expected. She took a single, shaky footstep closer, and then stopped. It was enough. That she had come, was enough. It was a sign. Despite her initial fears, her many trepidations, her unconscious had brought her straight to the place the reunion would be held, one week from today. Being who she was, it was enough to convince her; ready or not, she would have to face the future, and the past.

Would they laugh at her, at her lifestyle? Would they think her a nothing compared to their own fabulous lives now? What if they all snubbed her, looked down on her? She straightened her shoulders and raised her head, staring hard at the town hall doors and deciding that she would not let anyone make her feel bad about herself. She may not be glamorous, may not live in a house that she owned, have a fancy job or a degree from higher education or be rolling in money. But she was loved in her neighborhood. 

Her work at the hospice twice a week was invaluable to those who had nowhere else to go, and her hand knitted jumpers were a bread winner in the charity shops she donated them to. She may not be wealthy, but she was rich of heart, and she knew which she would rather be of the two. She had a week to get things sorted, and although she wasn't sure where to start, she knew that staying here wouldn't help her get started any sooner. With her indecision finally cleared, she turned and headed home.