A letter from the moon.

My darling Rene,

That passion you were complaining that I lack. Well, here it is. I am writing you a letter. I can hear your shocked gasp in my head at this moment. Rather old school isn’t it? Yes, trust me as I put pen to paper the weirdness of this action is abundantly clear to me. That’s just what I would do for you – anything (in case I wasn’t clear).

Sthandwa sam, mi amor, my love (yes, three languages) it turns out I’m quite well-versed in the language of love, despite your accusations. This seems to be going well, somewhat. I guess I’ll find out in a few days (That seems like a rather long time to wait) when it gets delivered. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a quick text, something along the lines of: ‘I miss you’ sent strategically at 2am, so you know I really care? No? Maybe ‘Ily. Take me back.’ With some sort of heart emoji at the end, just to show you that its true. Okay, okay. The grandest of all gestures it is, a handwritten letter. An outpouring of my heart compiled through the hand cramps, ink all over my fingers and blood (papercuts are real!).

Your move to Mauritius 3 months ago was a shock. You planned for months, getting your life together, selling your stuff and saying your goodbyes. You asked me to come with you and I laughed, ‘why would I leave all this, I’m good.’ so you went alone. These months without you have been painful and lonely. I didn’t realize the hole you’d leave in my life.

Side note: Do you get international news in Mauritius and if so, do you watch it?

I know this is a delayed reaction, but the heart wants what it wants. Our relationship has been rocky, yes, but we shall overcome. Long distance was never for us. I know I said I would call and text you (but blocked you as I watched your plane take off) and take care of the plants you gave me (two of them died) but that’s not important because my heart has always been with you. I have realized that my heart experiencing the joy of your presence while my body aches for you is unjust, unkind and unfair. It is time to reconnect. Surprise! (I’m not sure writing the word has the dramatic effect I’m going for but…) I’m currently sitting on an uneven stool that is stabbing into my butt cheek and trying not to throw up as I sail and write this letter for you. I’m coming to Mauritius. How exciting. Pina coladas and parties here I come!! And you, of course you. That’s number one really. Your Instagram has really set the scene. I know I said nobody would ever want to live in a holiday destination but now I see it, our whole lives will be a holiday. After these past months. That exactly what I need.

Disclaimer: don’t believe everything you see on the news.

You remember that show I used to love. Who’s going to the moon with Carlotta Drum. (Yes, you read that right. USED TO). I know that I called you annoying when you said that it had some flaws and didn’t even make sense on so many levels and that led to the first of many times, I blocked you. Well, I may have overreacted.

It turns out that scene where they show up at your house in the middle of the night then ask you ‘Who’s going to the moon?’ then proceed to scream you’re going to the moon to the half-asleep resident is totally real. Honestly my ears are still ringing. The design flaw starts there. In your half-asleep (possibly hungover) state of stupor they lead you to their warehouse where suddenly you’re MOON Training!... Flight training?... Astronaut training. So, there you are signing forms in blind excitement and being videotaped for hours on end through some pretty difficult training. You suggested the contestants were ‘acting it up’ for the drama with the puke and the tears and the looking all sunken and hollow. You were wrong. My lover, my rose, my sweet Mauritian mermaid, how I wish you’d been right. (Like I said however, you were wrong.)

After almost three months of training I realized something. Leaving to the moon would mean leaving you behind. Of course, I expressed these concerns and you would not believe what they said. “Relax, it’s not forever. Only two years of exploratory mining and you’ll be on the next rocket down. Besides you’re young, what’s two years.” I can still hear the condescending, shrill Carlotta now. Exploratory mining (these hands were not made for manual labor) and for two years! I think not. For my darling, how could I spend so long without you.

Unlucky for me it turns out signing forms without reading them is the worst of my choices (second, to letting you go to Mauritius alone) this year. I would remember signing an agreement that forced me to go through with it or face militia consequences. That much I am sure of. The show is called who’s going to the moon instead of who wants to go to the moon which seems like it was done on purpose as this mission to the moon is kind of not for me. Watching it is all fun and good but I think I can spend my life without the experience of rushing into the cold and soulless vacuum called space then taking a quick left to the oxygen and waterless rocky undesirable we call the moon. I made the decision to quit the show. For you of course.

Turns out the showrunners are kind of psychotic and also heavily funded by the government so that whole military section is something they actually put into action. I mean why don’t they just hire real miners if they want some, the earth is pretty much empty already. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a slight move.

We both understand that the news is just bias, propaganda and lies rolled into one, right?

I expect you’ve figured out through the contents of my letter that ‘on the run’ is an unnecessary and graphic lie by the media, hence my earlier disclaimer. I am coming to Mauritius for love and life (on earth) not to escape my commitments as the media would have you believe. I did not ‘pack my bags and disappear in the middle of the night’ I simply went for a jog at five am with all my stuff and decided not to come back. They need to relax I wasn’t in prison, though at times it felt like I was… I digress.

P.S That’s enough about me, how are things with you? Can’t wait to start this new chapter with the love of my life (you).

See you soon

Love,

Kevin

Satisfied I fold the letter and seal it in an envelope with Rene’s details on it and a stamp. I stash it in my pocket and take a deep breath. I sneak out of the dark cargo warehouse through the small tunnel I snuck in through. I hold my breath trying not to take in the smell and textures around me. I touch something soft as I crawl forward. I scream internally as it comes alive and runs right over me. I shiver in disgust. The hole is a lot easier to squeeze through this time around, in fact it isn’t a squeeze just me sliding through. Guess that’s what a diet of air and dustbin food gets me. I reach the end and maneuver myself out taking in a breath of fresh air. It is early and there are just a few workers at the boat dock. I zip up my hoodie and try to pass by unnoticed, a task made tough by my newly acquired stench. I watch each person as I pass them, pretending not to notice their grimaces as they get a whiff of me, none of them seem to recognize me. Good. I approach the boat I was told was headed to Mauritius. ‘You lost?’ I shake my head as I explain to him that I’m going to see the manager. He tells me to go into the cargo space. I go down a set of stairs, the manager looks up but not before I’ve blended with the shadows. My stomach growls softly and I hold my breath and watch the manager. Nothing. He checks out the last few things and goes up the steps, closing up behind him.

I relax, now just a long long sleep and I should arrive in Mauritius any day now. I close my eyes and in my tired, hungry state sleep finds me quickly. I wake up to the sound of sirens. I quickly get up and hide behind one of the crates. Someone opens and I panic ‘The ships about to leave, you can’t be in here.’ The officer looks at the man I had passed, I guess he must have noticed when I didn’t come off the boat. I sighed this could cause attention, if I left now, I could still find a new place to hide and a new method to get to Mauritius, maybe a more well thought out one.

I step out and the officer takes me off the boat. He doesn’t recognize me and asks if he can drop me somewhere. “The post office.” He is perplexed but doesn’t ask any questions. I go into the post office and mail out my letter. The radio is playing, I hear it spewing lies about me and roll my eyes. I sit down in one of the chairs desperate for a break. The lady sitting next to me gets up and leaves. Its just a smell, it doesn’t hurt anyone. I groan in frustration. 

I get up to leave and find myself surrounded by Carlotta and her Cameras. I see the same woman who had left pointing me out to the army. I roll my eyes, should’ve known. “Up, up and away.” Carlotta says with a smile as I’m pushed into the back of a car and taken back to the warehouse.

I moan blissfully into my food as I take another desperate bite, freshly showered and dressed enjoying my last meal like a prince, maybe running away was a little dramatic. I finish my food, ready to leave but they lead me into a room where my suit for space awaits. There is another man in a space suit, he will be doing the real work in getting me to the moon. “No, wait-” I say panic rising in my chest again. “I’ve waited long enough.” Carlotta says as she shoves me towards my suit that I reluctantly pull on. 

Kevin! Kevin! Kevin! I’m surprised as I hear a crowd chanting my name as I step out, this isn’t how the show usually works. Carlotta grins knowing she has fed my ego in the right places. “You’ve given us quite the season finale, Kevin.” I smile as I wave to my adoring public. “Wait.” I say one last time grabbing a pen and paper from one of my fans I write a quick note and put it in Carlotta’s hand, I give her Rene’s details and her PA scribbles it down. The camera pans to me. “A secret note for the love of my life. I did this all for her.” Carlotta’s hungry grin spreads and I give her a wink. One last wave for my fans and into the rocket.

“Liftoff in 3… 2… 1…” 

I close my eyes and brace for movement. The moon huh, it’s not Mauritius but maybe…

Carlotta opens the scribbled note:

Rene,

Change of plans. Maybe I’ll call you, text, or even send you another one of these.

See you soon (In two years),

Kevin.