Click here to join Backstreet X-Change
Howie lay on his bunk and sighed. Traveling was starting to take a toll on him; on all of them, his band mates included. Just then, something was tossed at him, covering his head for a moment.
“What the-” he began, and pulled the soft ‘something’ from his face. “What is this?”
“The new tour jacket.” said a familiar voice. Howie glanced across the isle to find his best friend and group mate, AJ, perched on his bunk.
“Oh. Thanks.” Howie replied, and resumed his blank stare at the bed above his own.
“Okay, now that’s intelligent!” AJ exclaimed, disgusted. “Just keep on zoning out, pretending you aren’t thinking about her.” he goaded. Howie rolled onto his side, and gave AJ the evil eye. “Admit it, bro. You’ve got it bad for this chic, whoever she is.”
“Woman. She’s a woman.” Howie growled.
“Whew! Excuse me, Mr. Feminist Crusader!”AJ chuckled. When Howie didn’t respond, he acquiesced. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry D. So, why don’t you write this WOMAN already.” Soon after Howie had found the letter, he had been unable to resist sharing it with his best friend. AJ had been astounded at Chemelyn’s audacity. He, like Howie, had soon gotten over it, in the face of the respect it earned her.
“She has a name, you know.” Howie replied sourly.
“Yeah, one that’s not left your mind for the past week!” AJ teased. “Chemelyn, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Chemelyn. What nationality to you suppose that is?” he pondered.
“Hmm....sounds Oriental? Spanish? Mexican?” AJ speculated.
“Whatever it is, it sounds exotic.” Howie sighed.
“Are you sure you don’t mean ‘erotic’?” AJ wiggled his eyebrows up and down at Howie, who promptly sent a pillow flying across the isle. The two friends were silent for a moment.
“What would I say to her?”
“What do you WANT to say? Hey! I got it, how about, ‘Hello, my name is Howie, your name is Chemelyn. Now that we have that cleared up, what the hell did you think you were doing, going through my personal things?’ “ AJ joked.
“Be serious. Besides, I’m over that. I think it must have taken a lot of courage for her to do that. I wouldn’t have. Anyway, I left the letter out in plain site. It was my own fault.” Howie said softly. “What do you think she looks like?”
“Probably very...um.......Man, I gotta say it! I bet she’s a dog!” AJ burst out with a laugh.
“Are you ever serious?” Howie scoffed. “Nevermind, I think I just answered my own question.” he muttered.
“Ok, hold your breath, this is me being serious. What does it matter, what she looks like? I mean, if you really like the way she sounds, then her outward appearance doesn’t matter squat.” AJ hazarded. Howie looked like he had heard an epiphany.
“You’re right, AJ.” he exclaimed, and bolted from his bunk. “I’m gonna write her!”
“Wait, hold up! Was her appearance what was making you hesitate this entire time?”
“No! But you’ve just made a really good point! If I like the way she sounds, what do I have to lose by writing to her?” Howie chattered excitedly. He rushed for his pen and paper, the same stationary on which he wrote the letters to his ‘Future Friend’. Settling on his bed once again, Howie began to write.
“Dear Friend,....”
Wisteria stretched out luxuriously, reveling in the pool of sunlight. She lay on the window seat in the loft, just waking from a cozy nap. An invisible speck of dust settled on her coat, and Wisteria paused in her relaxation to wash it away. Her ears perked up as she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Springing lightly from her position, Wisteria scampered down the stairs just in time to see her mistress entering the kitchen with several paper bags filled to the brim with fresh groceries.
“How’s my princess?” Chemelyn murmured as she plucked her orange tabby cat up from the floor. The cat purred loudly into one ear, and Chemelyn stroked her soft fur. Replacing the cat on the ground, she produced a small catnip plant, and after placing it on the window sill, snapped off a leaf, dropping it to Wisteria. The cat meowed appreciatively, and batted her treat across the hardwood floors, into the main living area. Chemelyn smiled, amused, and went about unpacking her groceries. She had stopped at the market once again, on her way home from the cafe, leaving Malone to close up shop.
Soon after, Chemelyn moved to the far left corner of her loft, where the high windows looked down over the tiny city side street. As she sank onto a small stool, she took up a fresh paint brush, dipping it into the water. A half finished portrait of the lady who stood on the corner of the street, peddling flowers, was propped up on the easel in front of her. Her head cocked, Chemelyn finished shading around the woman’s eyes, making them stand out, bright and youthful among the timeworn wrinkles of her face. Wisps of gray hair brushed across the nameless woman’s cheek, and a cluster of flowers were held under her chin. Chemelyn painted until the sun began to set, and the woman packed up her blooms for the evening.
Chemelyn wandered into the kitchen, not really wanting to fix anything for dinner, so instead, she grabbed a package of crackers, and retired to her room. Climbing the stairs, she flopped on her queen size bed, and reached for the book which lay on her night stand. It was a careworn copy of Jane Eyre. Chemelyn began to read, and became so engrossed, that she didn’t even notice when Wisteria jumped up beside her, or when she fell asleep, the novel dropping from her limp fingertips.
The whir of the espresso maker always seemed to possess just the right decibel of sound that succeeded in making Malone alert. He handed the man’s Irish cream latte over with a flourish, and sat back on his stool, now fully awake. He was not a morning person. The bell above the door jingled as Chemelyn barged in. She wore a pair of jeans and a white button down men’s shirt; not exactly her style of choice when attending work. She rushed over to the counter, and leaned across it, her eyes sparkling with a secret.
“Malone! Guess what?!” she exclaimed.
“Bit early in the morning for guessing games, don’t you think?” he replied, stifling a yawn to make his point.
“It came!” she shouted. Malone chuckled.
“Just a mite louder, and the entire block will have heard you!” he chastised, taking in the startled glances of their customers. “What came, darling?”
“The letter! The response from Howie!”
Malone’s eyes widened, and he pulled Charity, a trainee into his place behind the coffee maker, ordering her to stay put. Simultaniously, he pulled Chemelyn into her small office. “HE WROTE YOU?” Malone hissed.
“YES! He did! I know it’s from him, because I’d recognize his handwriting anywhere.”
“So, what? You haven’t opened it yet?” he asked incredulously. She shook her head. “What are you waiting for?!” he cried. She tore open the envelope, and unfolded the paper. She began to read......
”Dear Friend,
I have decided that perhaps you may be a friend. Although, I must admit, it is not often one makes friends by snooping through another’s things. I realize I left the letter out, but I did not think that anyone would read it. You, however, did. Why? Furthermore, Why did you write? Could it be, that you are as lonely as I am? I think that may be possible; I am still wondering if you are real, and not a figment of my imagination. But, I ask myself, do illusions contain substance,as your letter certainly does? For now, I will pretend that you are legitement, if only to appease my own hunger for a confidant.
You asked who I am. My answer cannot be simple. I am as complicated a being, as I am sure you must be. Why does no one around me realize the things upon which my mind dwells? My inner voice tells me, that these thoughts of mine may run through your head as well.
Do you ever look out at the world, and wonder how it is you ended up where you are? Do you say to yourself, ‘Look at the life I lead, why am I not satisfied?’. What magical twists of fate prompt us to move in the directions we do? Sometimes, I look back on my life, and wonder why destiny led me down this particular path. Should I have taken a different route, and if so, have I mucked up what could have been wonderful about my life? I fear I must sound ungrateful. In truth, I am not. I know that I lead a life of privilege and consequence. There are moments, however, where all things bright seem overshadowed.
Now, it is my turn. Who are YOU? Will you write back? I hope so, if only to see your carefully written words on another sheet of paper. It will give me something to hold onto. You have no idea, the comfort I receive from just knowing that you are listening.”
~Howie”
Chemelyn released the sigh that had pent up inside of her chest, and finally tore her gaze from the letter, to meet Malone’s eyes. Neither one said anything for a moment, until Chemelyn broke the silence.
“I told you so.”
“You told me what?”
“I told you he wasn’t an ax murderer. Would a criminal be capable of writing this?” she said softly. Malone patted her shoulder gently and smiled tenderly into her face.
“”No. Not at all.” he assured her, enjoying the look of utter captivation which was painted across her face. “Only an angel.”
Links to other sites on the Web
Back To Main Page
Back To Fan Fiction Index
Back To Chapter 2
That's all for now, please keep checking back for more updates!
© 1997 crunkgrl62382@yahoo.com
Get your own Free Home Page