Letter of a Lifetime

It was March 15th. It had probably been a couple days since you found out, heard the news, maybe a mutual friend called to tell you. The day one can only guess you learned, you didn’t leave your house, you were probably grieving and wanting to be alone. You didn’t go to work the next day either, instead you spent the day visiting places that I could only assume reminded you of me. 

You spent an hour at the park, sitting on a bench of which we once shared the seat for hours watching the people pass by. You got an ice cream cone that day. It came from a little cafe we’d spent our first date at, each nursing a cone of the frozen treat while sharing smiles and laughs. I remember you fixing your tie after I had poked fun at the fact that it was crooked. Now my heart ached as you touch your tie while you take a lick of my favourite bubblegum ice cream. 

You walked the hour long route all the way to my apartment. You stood across the street from the building you once knew as my home. There would be no entering the apartment building today on account of the yellow tape fencing off the door. The tape may as well have been a fortified barricade. You looked up at the third floor window second from the left with an expression I knew all too well. Your eyes were misty, but a smile crossed your lips. You opened your wallet, and took a moment to gaze at the photo that resided there. The same expression touched your face and you allowed a small laugh that was choked by a sob. The photo provided a window to a day long gone. Within its confines a young man smiled sheepishly as a woman kissed his cheek, they were both dressed in swimsuits. A single sentence scribbled on the back of the photo in faded ink read “Best day of my life  - Florida 13/10/2016”. Unbeknownst to you, the group of men in the background of that photo are huddled over a body.

You walked back to your small townhouse with your hands in your pockets. You unlocked your door smoothly and opened it to a chocolate lab who greeted you with a wagging tail and lapping tongue. “C’mon girl, I missed you too.” You managed between a barrage of licks. You took the dog, Dixie, to the backyard where she ran in happy circles. Dixie was a rescue dog, she had come into your life as a child and when you moved, she came with you. You had been with her much longer than you had been with me. Dixie was a sweet dog that seemed to like me. It was almost like we had our own little family. You, me, and Dixie. “Let’s go inside.” You said as you patted her head, her tongue lolling out. You and Dixie disappeared behind the door with a soft click. 

A light came on upstairs - your kitchen window - spilling light onto the small dark yard below. Moments later that light flicked off and was replaced by the dining room light. Your head appeared through that window, leaning over something, bringing a fork to your mouth periodically. Soon after, that light went off, and no others replaced it. Dixie would be snuggling up to you in bed no doubt. The house fell quiet in the darkness. 

The next morning came early. You emerged from your home, Dixie in tow. Your morning walk, surely. It is said that getting into a routine is an important part of mourning, and it looked like you were trying to get onto one. Dixie pulled forward, as excitable dogs usually do, and you were left to catch up. Your usual morning routine included an hour long walk to appease Dixie. It was a fresh Spring morning, the grass returning to its green hue and new buds forming on the trees. Sometimes you’d stop to get the mail on your way home, though today as you check your mail, you notice a letter that makes you stop in your tracks. Dixie even seemed to sense something important, because she uncharacteristically halted as well. You looked as though you’d seen a ghost as you read the name in the top right corner of the envelope. Eyes wide and face pale, you shoved the letter into a pocket. However, you kept a hand in the pocket, almost as if you were afraid if you weren’t touching it, the letter would disappear. You and Dixie raced home and you sat on your front steps. Dixie lay in a sunny patch nearby, enjoying the warmth. 

You drew a shaky breath as you took the envelope from your pocket, your hand quivered as you held the letter. Your eyes moved as you read the envelope again. Carefully, you opened it so as not to rip it. Dixie lifted her head, sniffing the envelope then looking around - as if she were looking for something. 

You drew in a sharp breath as you retrieved the letter from its paper prison. You unfolded it slowly. Your eyes went back and forth as you read it, your lips mouthing the words. 

“March 13th, 2020. Joshua, I’m writing this because I’m scared, and I’m sorry. You know I’d never intentionally aim to hurt you, but this is for both your safety and mine, and I fear it will hurt you deeply. If you’re reading this, I’ve been presumed dead.” You paused, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, and exhaling before you returned to the letter. “I know this is a lot to take in, but if all went well, I can assure you that I am alive and hopefully well. Do you remember our trip to Florida? While there I saw some things that some people really wished I hadn’t. I thought once we got home to Toronto, we were safe. Then I saw some men hanging around outside my apartment building. They asked if I knew me. I knew I wasn’t safe and neither were you. So I faked my death in hopes that they’d finally leave me alone. If you see me, know that you must be quiet and we must leave.” 

As you read the last sentence, you looked up. Dixie sat up, her tail wagging. Your eyes locked with mine and I was met with that all too familiar expression. You embraced me, our little family together once more. “Let’s get out of here.” You murmured into my ear.