Breakfast in bed. How utterly romantic. He knew she was a sucker for things like that, even though she swore up and down the hospital halls she hated them. But he knew her. He knew her more than she knew herself. He knew she was just waiting for the right and real and honest moment for it to happen.
News Years Day. With her best friend. In her house. All by themsleves. All day long. Cuddling with the curtains drawn. Playing finger tag. Memorizing a million smiles. Inhaling each others breathing. Completely vulnerable and with pure trust. No other thing ever created by the universe was more beautiful. He knew she knew what love was truly. And he felt like the luckiest bastard on the face of earth because he was one of four people in the history of the world who would ever experience it.
Last night was blur. She was sad because she didn’t have a date for New Years Eve. She had recently broke up with her boyfriend for 5 years. They were supposed to go to her co-workers New Years Party, but since they broke up, she decided not to go. After all, they all worked together at the hospital. She was a nurse and he was a doctor. All the ER workers would be there. So she decided to stay home.
Out of habit she called, Xavier. Her best friend. The man who was always there forher no matter what. She knew he could make her feel better. So she called him. He was preparing to go to his theatre company’s New Years party. But when he got her phone call, he canceled and drove straight to her new place in Alhambra. She was right. He would always be there for her no matter what. That was most comforting for her to know.
He was cute. He was wearing a tuxedo, top hat, and carried a cane. With him he brought roses and a couple of bottles of wine to cheer her up. He also brought a few video tapes he rented from the video store for them to watch just in case, acording to him, his jokes wouldn’t work. He was the best friend she had ever had.
They talked, drank, talked, drank, talked, drank, and talked and drank. Before you know it, the countdown was happening. And something else. A closeness she had never felt with any other man before. A comfortable, trusting, open and honest kind of love she had never realized before. A shared, calm aura. He felt like home to her. And it felt perfect. So they kissed and went to bed together.
Now, here he was, in the kitchen, beaming brighter than five suns, the morning after his life has been affirmed, cooking fluffy scrambled eggs, just the way she liked them. He poured her some orange juice, half-way in a glass, just the way she liked it. He lightly toasted two slices of white bread, covered it with butter, just the way she liked it. He went into the backyard, picked the brightest red, closed-face rose he could find, went back into the kitchen and placed them all beautifully on a wooden breakfast tray.
He smiled. It was perfect. This was perfect. The world was perfect. His life was perfect.
As he made his way out of the kitchen on his way back to the bedrom to surprise, Anna Lisa Kristina, he passed the living room and coincidentally glanced at the coffee table. Sitting on it was a paper bag filled with envelopes. He was curious. He walked over to it, carefully placed the breakfast tray next to the bag and pulled out an envelope.
It was addressed to her mothers house with her name on it. It was from him when he still lived with his family. Back in 1997. He opened it and it read, “Dearest Anna Lisa Kristina…” The letter he wrote to her was about how, Long and, Corn, and himself were going to aply to community college to get a degree in something because stealing and gambling was getting them nowhere. It talked about how she had influenced him in such a way he wanted to live. He smiled.
He picked up another one. It was dated April 23, 1999. “Dearest Anna Lis Kristina…” This one was a happy birthday letter explaining how proud he was of her starting nursing school.
He picked up another. February 14, 1998. It was Valentines letter letting her know how much he will always love her and how it didn’t matter to him if she would ever feel the same way because that’s not what love was.
He picked up another. August 20, 2002. It was a letter about how hot the summer was.
October 22, 2001. It was a letter about how he went to New York to see grond zero.
March 12, 2001. It was about how he, if he had enough money, would take her to see New York.
December 25, 2003. He wrote about how he was going to go to his theatre company’s New Years Eve party and that he hoped she would have as much fun with her doctor boyfriend at their hospital’s New Years Eve party as he would getting drunk with the Artsy Fartsy’s.
The whole bag was filled with every letter he had ever written to her in the past ten years. He wrote to her nearly every day. That was a lot of letters.
He put the letters back in the bag. Grabbed the breakfast tray, smiled, and skipped his way back to bed where the love of his life was waiting.
The door was slightly ajar. He nudged it pen with his bare foot. Anna Lisa Kristina was sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him. She was twiddling her thumbs, meaning she was nervous. This wasn’t a good sign, he knew.
“Xavier,” she began with a cracked voice. “We need to talk.”
ahhhhhhhhhhh!
that is a “i can relate” scream.
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?? I was gonna scream until i saw vicky luu had written the same thing, haha