LLC02: Love Letter after Decades
Creative Writing – Love Letter Contest 2013
© YourStoryClub.com
Sitting by the window, the sacred letter in hand, Sara couldn’t believe her luck.
Only she knew how long she’d been waiting to receive this.
Her now greying hairs flew gently in the wind as she made a half-hearted attempt to push them behind her ears.
Staring numbly at the letter in her hand, she sighed.
She remembered the last conversation that they had had a long time ago where he had mentioned this very letter.
“Did you get my letter?” You asked, passion in your eyes, anger on your face.
Worried, I shook my head, knowing that by now my father must have read and burnt it.
“That’s why you’ve been acting so strange. When will you read it?” You snorted, your body language that of a man on fire.
“I can’t” I said, shaking my head, my eyes filling with tears at the love I may never get the chance to share with you.
“Why not?” A challenging glare.
How could I tell you that my father knew about us both, about the times we skipped class to be together? How could I tell you that standing there, watching your golden hair and bright, blue eyes, I was speechless?
I knew the kind of person you were, short-tempered and impulsive.
But I loved you for it.
Besides, you’d told me I wasn’t to tell our parents about us till we were old enough.
I couldn’t tell you that my father knew and risk the chance of losing the perfect life we could have together.
“We’re done” You said and walked away.
Oh, how I wished I could follow you, then.
But it would be of no use.
For one second, every bone in my body told me to run away with you. At the same time, I knew I’d never have the courage to do something like that.
You didn’t know, but my father told me to stop going to college and help my mother in all the housework. It broke my heart.
I never thought I’d see or hear from you again.
As difficult as I knew it would be, I was convinced that my only option was to let you go.
Till I found out that my father didn’t know about the letter you wrote.
It felt to Sara like this letter had been waiting for her for a very long time.
Hugging it to her chest, she remembered the countless number of times she had tried to read it when she knew of its existence.
She recalled the letter she had written to him but never had the means to send.
Her own words flashed in her mind.
My Dearest Joshua,
Holding the letter in my hands, I knew it was more precious than any other that I had ever received.
It felt heavy and I hoped it was long.
My back was stinging from all the belt bruises my father gave me for being a bad human being. But that didn’t stop me from trying to open your letter behind his back.
I’d take a hundred beatings for you, my love.
But I heard footsteps approach from behind me and I quickly ran to the storeroom and hid your letter under a loose tile.
I promised myself that I would read it later.
Later never came for Sara.
Till now.
But it was too late, she realized, gulping down tears.
Now, she was widowed with two married children and six healthy grandchildren.
Her life was almost over, with hardly any years left.
She neither had the strength nor saw the point in pursuing this love.
But she had to read the letter.
Even if it was the last thing she’d ever do.
My dearest, a month passed before I could get the free time to go back into that storeroom.
There it was, my favourite tile.
When I finally did get my hands on it, I ripped the envelope apart and pulled your letter out.
Eagerly, I began to read it, thinking foolishly that my time had come.
‘My Lovely Sara,
Words fail to express the love I have for you in my heart.
Of course, I know that we…’
A knock on the door.
Startled, I put the letter into its torn envelope, pushed it back under the tile and ran away.
Only I know how many times over the next three years I tried to read the letter.
But it felt like everyone in the world wanted to stop me.
My father began locking the storeroom door and taking the keys to work.
I think he suspected my interest to get into the room.
On Sundays, he had the whole bunch of house and office keys around his waist.
It was impossible to get them from there.
But then, the worst possible thing happened to me, Joshua.
One day, when I got home from the market, I found most of my stuff packed and ready outside my door.
“You’ll be living with your aunt from tomorrow onwards” My mother said, smiling.
I didn’t understand what was happening.
I was so scared, Joshua. I really was.
“Why?” I asked. “What did I do?”
“Nothing, darling. You’re getting engaged tonight and the boy wants you closer to where he’s living. I called up your aunt and she’s happy to have you. Besides, the boy lives two streets away from her place.”
It was weird, them referring to him as ‘the boy’.
But I didn’t care what they called him.
I didn’t want to get married.
My heart belonged to you. It always would.
But I knew fighting wouldn’t help.
I wasn’t going to endure more of my father’s beatings.
They didn’t just physically hurt me anymore.
Now that I was older, my ego was getting battered too.
Sara recalled how she was forced into marriage that week, her father telling her that he would throw her out of his life if she didn’t agree to marry ‘the boy’. She had agreed, losing the will to fight as the bruises on her aching body and soul multiplied.
Looking out the window of the old car, I gave my house one last look.
Being dragged along the rush of the wedding, I had no time to consider your letter that I left under those tiles in the storeroom.
Closing my eyes, I let silent tears fall as I rested my head against the dirt covered seats.
Life was going to have to move on for me.
She smiled to herself at the pathetic stages in her adulthood where she kept dreaming about what the continuation of that letter could be but never being able to find out.
After her marriage she had moved cities while her parents stayed back in that beautiful home of theirs. Often she wondered if they had missed her. Having grown up in a quiet home where nobody expressed their emotions, she felt like she didn’t know her family well.
But now, sitting in that same house, decades on, she felt their presence and knew with all her heart that they loved her more than they’d ever been able to express.
So, my dearest Joshua, please understand that I haven’t been able to read your letter for a very long time. Also try to understand that I really wanted to. But, I don’t think I should be reading it now anymore because I’m expecting my second child at the moment and it would not be fair to my family.
So, with all my heart, I’m going to try to forget that you ever existed in my life and I suggest you do the same.
Love,
Sara
She recalled how she had never sent her letter because it seemed pointless. He’d have surely been married, she argued with herself a million times in the last forty years.
But after so many decades of waiting, she had finally dared to step back into the house that her parents had lived in before they passed away.
The letter was still under that beloved tile just like she had left it over half a century ago.
The familiar surroundings filled Sara with hope and love.
So, sitting by the window, the sacred letter in hand, Sara couldn’t believe her luck.
Only she knew how long she’d been waiting to receive this.
Cherishing every moment, she finally opened the letter, her heart pounding.
‘My Lovely Sara,
Words fail to express the love I have for you in my heart.
Of course, I know that we cannot be together and to be honest, that fact makes me very happy.
Hear me out before you judge me, though.
I agree that I fell in love with you the day we answered that Math sum together in class. I thought it was adorable how you fought with me to be able to get the chance to solve it on the whiteboard. I knew it was love, even at such a tender age like ours because you were incomparable. You were what every girl wanted to be; beautiful and brainy.
Not very long has passed since that day. We’re only in college now.
I know we discussed how we’d be spending our lives together and have intelligent babies that we’d love till our last breaths.
Sitting here, writing this letter to you, I realize that we were both quite mistaken in our childish views about our future together.
Here’s why.
I spent all night trying to come up with reasons that would pose a problem in our lives.
First, our cultural differences. I remember how you’d bring curry and rice to school and frankly, I always found it quite tempting. But living my entire life eating your style of cooking will be impossible by me. I love my bread and mashed potatoes too much.
Second, our languages. While we both can converse quite fluently in English, I’d love to be with a girl who can greet me in the morning in French. I find that quite sexy. I don’t follow Hindi and I don’t think I ever will be able to learn it either.
Third, your religious preferences. You once told me about the various Gods you worship and the significance of visiting the temple every week to offer food. I forgot what you call it. Prasad or something. Anyway, I don’t think I could do that. I’m an atheist. You know that.
Fourth, your conservative attitude. Do you remember that evening you lied to your parents that you were at Lisa’s home and came out to watch a movie with me? You didn’t let me kiss you near the popcorn stall because you were afraid of what others would think. And the other day, you refused to come over to my place when I told you no one was home because you thought it ‘wouldn’t be right’. Your rules of right and wrong are far too many. Life’s short. What others think is not of my concern. Frankly, I think that was just an excuse you used. Because I don’t think you were ready to be in love with me.
I’ve spent a lot of my time thinking and re-writing this letter.
My room is filled with crushed paper balls of hopeless words.
Please do understand that I still love you.
I always will love you, but you and I will never work out because we are too different to be able to exist in one house together.
While I do want brainy babies, I don’t want them to be god fearing and worry about open displays of affection.
However, I hope you have a wonderful life.
Take care,
Joshua.
Silent tears rolled down Sara’s cheeks.
Oh, how long she had waited to be united to the words in this letter.
How many sleepless nights she had spent, trying to imagine the tone and the sound of his voice saying the imaginary words as she rephrased every single one of them in her head till they all strung together as perfect, romantic sentences.
Everything made sense to her now.
His reaction when she didn’t read the letter, his lack of interest of her well-being, his not staying in touch with her when she left.
It all made sense.
She folded the letter as neatly as her troubled thoughts would let her and thought of her dead husband.
She’d been very young when she married Zafar.
Never in the world had she expected to be married to a Muslim. She had thought her parents would be against it. Maybe they were hypnotized by the unending list of ancestral properties Zafar owned. Or maybe they saw more good in Zafar than in Joshua. She’d never know.
Her entire life she’d spent being evil to her husband. Now, she deeply regretted it.
In her mind and soul, she had loved Joshua and this letter had haunted her through all stages of her life.
Looking back, she realized she was wrong.
The plain blue walls of her house had been decorated with idols of the Gods she prayed to. On the dressing table right in front of their Puja room laid the Quran. Her eldest son, Samrat, always accompanied Zafar to the mosque every Friday evening. Sunday mornings they went to church because their daughter Aliya wanted to.
Their lunch time was a combination of different cuisines. She had learnt her husband’s way of cooking, as he had learnt to adapt to hers. Never did he make her feel like her style of living was in any way lesser than his own. He hadn’t forced her to wear the clothes his tradition followed nor did he dominate her with his presence.
She realized that she had more than she could have ever asked for but never cared enough to appreciate it. She had been too wrapped up in her own worthless thoughts about the man she would never have been half as happy with.
Given a chance, she’d go back in time and learn to love the husband of hers that was in all ways better than Joshua could ever be.
As Sara’s phone rang in her dress pocket, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, knowing that it was her daughter calling to check on her.
Knowing that her life had started only when she had left this house.
Knowing that her parents had been right all along.
And knowing that the most intelligent thing she’d ever done in her life was reading this letter.
She was finally content.
The phone continued ringing in her pocket.
But the caller was too late.
Sara had gone to her husband.
__END__
