A Trip to Neverland

A Love Letter

A Love Letter

Dear Mr. Wade,

First, I would like to say thank you for giving me your blessing to marry your daughter. You know what, Mr. Wade? It has been two years since I married her, and I still love her. We are good. No, best is the right term.

I could still remember the first time I met her. She is just as beautiful as the daisies she was holding. I was busy for accounting work when I decided to take my lunch at a fast food restaurant. So that was how I saw her.

I don’t know why she’s holding flowers. I then thought to myself that maybe it was given to her by her boyfriend. You know, guy things? Who would have thought that she had no boyfriend, right? She’s beautiful, and that’s a proof.

But some thoughts were wrong. I was wrong about everything. It was not my intent to listen to her conversation with I-don’t-know-who-the-guy-was on the other line of the phone. I heard something that she was going to the cemetery to put flowers to her mom’s tomb. I could see it in her eyes that she was sad. And that made me feel sad too.

I don’t know why, but I felt strange about myself. Staring at her while she was slowly eating. I was on the other table in front of her. Strange, right, Mr. Wade? But those strange feeling taught me how to love. That’s how it started. I wasn’t focused anymore on my work. I was thinking of her. Whether I could see her again.

I don’t want to go any further on how I met your daughter since you already knew it on our wedding day. (I hope you were listening to my flashback back there.)

Callie is simply beautiful. Charming, adorable, lovable – these were not the words that usually suited her. She is the one for whom language reserves it best phrases; the energy of her beauty is celebrated by poetry. For her uninhibited simplicity could be best celebrated with the fondest of expressions.

Do you get my point, Mr. Wade? I am telling you everything because I think you should know more about her. She’s your daughter, but there are still things that you don’t know about her, and I am proud to tell everything to you.

The real reason why I am writing this letter to you is that things really changed. I think she has changed. It has been two years since we are married and we have no child yet. Would that change a woman, Mr. Wade? My love for her will not change. Will hers?

I am trying to be strong despite the situation. Well, do I have a choice? I am the man here. You make yourself strong because it’s expected of you. You become confident because someone beside you is unsure. You turn into the person others need you to be. I should be the strongest. I just can’t fall down.

There was a day when I found her crying on our bedroom. She said maybe it was her that has a problem why we can’t have a child. I just said to her, trying to comfort her, that everything was okay. I even hugged her.

And the next day we had ourselves checked up by the doctor, and she said, no one has the problem. She said that maybe it was because of lack of rest.

Well, I admit that I wasn’t really taking any serious rest these past few weeks since it’s almost year-end. I had to focus on the reports.

If ever we will have a child, I won’t let him become an accountant. I won’t let him feel the struggles I had been through. I just want him to enjoy life.

But that dream was ended because I saw your daughter – my wife – making love to someone I do not know. It hurts me a lot. My world shattered and felt heavy then cried. I just felt cheated.

I don’t know what happened after that. They were both lying on the bed, filled with blood. I am so sorry, Mr. Wade. I just loved you daughter more that I could kill anyone, including her.

Your Crazy Son-in-law,

Mark

Mark folded the blood-splashed paper and placed it on the table beside their bed. He stared at the gun on the floor for a minute or two. He could still hear the sound of the gunshots that killed his wife and the man. He sat on the edge of the bed beside his wife’s cold, dead body. He brushed her hair. Tears fell down from his eyes as he was trying to absorb everything.

His fingers caressed her face and down to her white, cold lips. The once soft, hot lips now gone.

“What have we done to each other?” He wept. He was like a child who was lost in a park, looking for her mom. He was lost. He couldn’t get up. His world was gone. He knew his weakness was his wife. Too weak to even stand.

He took care of her, even gave her everything what she wanted and needed. But what he just received after all? A lie.

“I hope you know that every time I tell you to get home safe, stay warm, have a good day, or sleep well –” he said while catching up his breath.  “W-what I’m really saying is that I love you. I love you so damn much that it is starting to steal other words meanings.” He wept even more.

Moments later, he untightened his blood-designed, white sleeves. He walked and picked up the gun. As he was heading toward the bed, he saw his reflection on the mirror that was place across their bed. There were days where he looked in the mirror, and saw the strong warrior within. The fighter that never gave up. But today, when he looked at the mirror, he saw the weak and vulnerable being that he had always been.

He then stared at his wife’s dead body. She was still beautiful, but breathless.

“I love you, Cal,” he said while walking toward the bed. He sat and pointed the gun on his head. “Wait for me –”

All that was audible at the time was the sound of a gunshot. Mark was lying beside his wife, lifeless. A tear fell down from his right eye. And that was his last tear.