Dear Ludmilla

Chapter 9

                                                                       Immediately after Ben had rushed out of the café, Brittany had urged Micky to go after him. As his best friend (and only guy friend), it was his duty, after all. Micky stared sadly at his unfinished dessert, then decided to do the right thing. He ran outside of Starbucks, praying that it wasn't too late. Ben was so unpredictable these days that he would actually consider the possibility that he would jump off a cliff in sorrow. Mentally preparing himself for confronting his best friend, he considered what he had to say without coming off as a horrible person. But before he could put together a well-rehearsed speech, he found him. On a bench he sat alone, staring at the ground, his hands cupping his chin in despair. He opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly (ending up looking like a goldfish), not knowing quite what to do in this situation. He inhaled the fresh air of Central Park, before deciding that he needed to get it over and done with. 

                                                                       "Hey buddy. Listen to me, for one second." Ben looked up and saw Micky. He didn't want to talk with him. Or Brittany, for that matter. No one understood that he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. No one. He just got up to leave, when suddenly, out of the blue, Micky somehow had newfound strength to grab him by the shoulder and push him down back on the bench. 

                                                                      "Bud. Calm down for two minutes, damn! Listen, I know you liked Ludmilla, and I personally think she kind of had a thing for you as well. But you have to accept that she's gone. Don't look at me like that! I don't mean to be insensitive! I mean, you need to accept it so you can heal and enjoy life again. Maybe if you write a letter to her, but keep it to yourself? What you do is gush out all your positive feelings about her, and put it in an envelope and... put it somewhere you can see it when you're down and want to remember her or you're feeling down or something..."

                                                                        Ben's blue eyes lit up at that idea. True, the love of his life would never see it, but it would make him feel better. Micky was right. His heart felt like a volcano about to erupt. He couldn't keep it all to himself any longer. He was so excited that he hugged his best friend, even though they promised they would never do that. Micky decided to let it slide this time, however, he jokingly warned Ben that if he did it another time, he would take him to the psychologist to see if he was part of the LGBTQ community. He was wise enough to take it as a joke, but he corrected him that although he was straight, it didn't necessarily mean that something was wrong with the community. Micky, suddenly realising what he had said, apologised and then told him to run off or he might change his mind about the letter.

                                                                        Ben sprinted all the way to his house. When he got there, he stood for a few minutes, panting like a dog. He saw his mother, hugged her tight and then raced up to his room, his mother shaking her head and smiling. She wondered what had suddenly gotten him into such a good mood.

                                                                       He sat down there at his mahogany desk. He frantically searched for some good paper, and when he found some, he sat down in his matching mahogany chair, and sucked on his pencil to think of what to write. He needed it to be absolutely perfect. He knew she wasn't coming back to New York, ever, but he needed it to look so lovely in this case that Ludmilla would be there to see it. 

                                                                        After sitting there for a while (and chewing off all the coating from his pencil), his Labrador came up and pushed his head up next to his owner. Petting him lovingly, he asked his pet what he could write.  Cinnamon just looked up at him, with her soulful black eyes, as if to say: I'm a girl, I'll tell you what to say...all that's in your heart.

                                                                        And finally, he knew just how to begin.

                                                                        Dear Ludmilla,....