Cathy's letter

1989

As she put down her pen, Cathy sighed, then smirked slightly. She picked up the sheet of paper in front of her and cast her eyes over her tight scrawl, concentrating, re-reading her words. Ha! she thought, almost gleefully; this would teach him. He deserved what was coming.

She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. Whilst she felt satisfied that he would soon be learning his lesson, deep down, the anger was still there. Bubbling away, taking over her body. She had barely slept for the past few nights.

This is why he deserved this. He had to pay for what he had done to her.  

The wedding was imminent. And it would happen, she knew she couldn’t stop it. The only thing she could do was warn his blushing bride of what she was getting into.

And the impact of this letter on his “fiancée”? Well, she deserved to know the truth about who she was marrying. She’d actually be better off.

Cathy stuffed the sheet of paper in the envelope, checked the address and stamp, and put it in her bag. She’d post it later, in town, where she needed to run some errands.

1990

Peter looked at his sister-in-law. They were sitting in the large living area of his beloved house, which used to feel homey and loving but only felt big and empty now that Cathy had left, taking their son with her.

“How are you holding up?” Charlotte asked him, taking a sip of the short black coffee which he had set out, with biscuits, on the small South American table she had gifted them for their wedding.

“Awful”, he said. He continued, muttering, “And she has been awful.”

“Mmmh. I can’t say I’m surprised. What has she done?”

“Well, before she left, the only word I can find to describe her attitude is ‘venomous’. You cannot imagine the things she said to me. You know how belittling she can be.”

Charlotte nodded; her mouth full. Her sister was what some people would call “a piece of work”. Not only did she have a horrible temper (she had actually once confided in Charlotte that she could foresee that her uncontainable temper, and its impact on her body and her heart, would ultimately kill her), not only was she controlling and tyrannical, but she also had a cruel knack for always intentionally picking words that were particularly belittling, often malevolently using past confidences to her or known weaknesses of people against them.

Charlotte had been on the receiving end of her sister’s poison many times.

As children, they had been quite close, but as they reached young adulthood, Cathy had changed for the worse and started displaying occasional worrying angry behaviour. The frequency of her outbursts had increased as she had gotten older.  

Charlotte was not cut from the same cloth, no. Thankfully, she also was strong (and sometimes bad) tempered (but her own view was that she balanced this out with genuine kindness and empathy). This gave her an advantage in that she wasn’t afraid of her sister and had always been able to stand up for herself when attacked by her.

Charlotte was visiting Peter to check in on him following Cathy’s recent departure, after over 20 years of marriage. She’d moved with their son into a small apartment in town.  

Charlotte wondered if Peter knew that Cathy had been unfaithful to him. Interestingly, even though she could at times be horrible to Charlotte (no one was safe from being at the receiving end of her temper), Cathy still confided in her sister. They spoke on the phone most days and if anyone had met the sisters together, they probably would not have suspected that there were times when Cathy treated her sister so appallingly. She was very selective about who she showed her true colours to. However, once you were “picked” as a target, usually for her feeling wronged or offended by something you had done or said: good luck!

One of her newer specialties was poisonous missives, carefully drafted letters full of cruelty and nastiness. Taking the time to write, afforded Cathy even more opportunity to pick the most painful words, and eliminating any risk of esprit de l’escalier.

Charlotte had read one of those letters, once, and while she had been horrified (but not surprised), cynically, she had also thought, “this would make great material for a book”.

Charlotte wasn’t sure Peter knew about the infidelity, so thought it best to shut up about it.

To avoid embarrassing him, Charlotte also didn’t question the comment he had made around belittling words, but she could imagine the nature of the horrors his wife had told him.

Peter drove his sister-in-law back to the station. Once he had parked, he turned to her and said, “There’s something else.”

1987

Cathy smiled. She was happy, finally!

She and Jacob were on the ferry, heading to the Netherlands, to see her sister. She looked at him adoringly, admiring his youthful handsomeness, his hair blowing in the cold winter Channel wind.

She hadn’t expected to start this relationship, but when Jacob had approached her in her classroom after school that day and they had started talking, she had immediately felt an attraction. He was very intelligent and mature for his 18 years. And so handsome.

They relationship had moved fast. They had become infatuated with each other, he, in lust with her sexual confidence, and her, with his youthful, unbridled passion for her.

Cathy had been married to Peter since she was 18 years old herself, a quickie wedding, she was pregnant with their son. She then had moved straight into playing the part of the small-town mother and wife.

Deep down, she abhorred her life.

While she had only existed for the past 20 years, stuck in the confines of a suburban pseudo life, her sister had lived, adventurously, moving first to South America, and then to Amsterdam, divorcing her first husband and now living with a younger American man, and having no children. When she thought of her sister’s life compared to hers, Cathy felt an odd feeling of bitterness and resentment in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t quite put a name to this feeling.

But now, at 37, she too had been given a shot at adventure and passion, outside of the constraints of her tightly bound life, outside of the boredom, the resentment towards her husband and son, the anger, the fear of the passing of time.

And she was not going to let go of this newfound freedom.

After their trip, she was planning on leaving her husband for Jacob.

She clutched on to Jacob, buried her head in his shoulder, she wanted him to make love to her right now on this ferry, she wanted to feel this passion, this freedom forever.

1988

The pain was overpowering, overwhelming, suffocating her.

Suffocating her while she tried to act like nothing was wrong, but barely concealing her anguish in front of her husband and son.

Suffocating her at work, while she tried to remain engaged in the lessons, attentive to her students and pleasant to fellow teachers.

Jacob had left her. He was getting married!

She had tried talking to him, she’d gone to meet him at his work, she’d called, she’d knocked on his door, she’d begged but he was immovable. He was initially calm, then less: “It’s over, stop contacting me, leave me alone, I don’t love you, I am happy with Elise, I love her, we are getting married, leave me alone.”

“You are crazy.”

His initial patience towards her had given way to pity.

Her initial pain was beginning to give way to furor.

1990

Peter told Charlotte he knew about the infidelity.

“I know that they came to see you in Amsterdam. I know that she was with him for a few months.”

“How do you know?” Charlotte asked.

“I knew back then that she was cheating, I just didn’t know who with. She was like a different person, she was happy, but absent.”

They’d arrived at the train station.

“But I also know because he told me.” Peter continued.

“Jacob?”

Small towns where everyone knows each other make for complicated extramarital affairs, Charlotte thought.

“Yes. He called me a few months ago. He was about to marry Elise. The thing is….” he paused, briefly. “The thing is, Cathy had sent Elise a letter, a few weeks before the wedding.”

1989

Elise clutches at the letter, shockwaves going through her body. Outside, the winter sun is shining. She has just returned from work, a normal day, and was about to start on dinner, when she picked up the mail and opened the envelope.

This woman, she knows her, she’s seen her in town, this woman, who is married, this dangerous woman, has written horrible things about Jacob, that they were together, they met when she was Jacob’s teacher, she has written that they were together even after Elise and he met, even after they got engaged, that they spoke and laughed about Elise, that Jacob loves her and only her, that their wedding will fail, that Jacob is hers only, that he will betray Elise again, and that she will tell her when he does.

A familiar feeling comes over Elise. The letter has fallen from her hands which are suddenly damp with sweat, her body has hit the floor, now her head has too, her tongue, she talks to herself, she must remember to feel her tongue, try to breathe, try to call for help, not panic.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees the kitchen door has opened and Jacob has rushed to her.

“It’s ok, darling, I’ve called the ambulance”, he grabs her hand, reassuringly.

He puts her in the recovery position, checks her tongue, makes sure her airway is clear.

He holds her hand soothingly, while they wait for the ambulance.

1990

“Cathy didn’t know one thing about Elise, it’s that she is epileptic. When she read the letter, it caused such a shock that she had an epileptic fit, which was so strong she had to be hospitalized for a few days.”

Charlotte shook her head, “Is she ok now?”

“Mmh” Peter nodded, staring in the distance. “She’s forgiven Jacob, they did get married, but, understandably, she wants nothing to do with Cathy. She knows her from town. She wants her and Jacob to move away.”

“Does Cathy know?”

“Yes”. Peter sighs. “But my fear is…. does she care?”