The Letter
It sat on the table in my hotel suite for three hours and fourteen minutes. The soft blue envelope taunting me and tempting me to open it every time I walked by the table. I had tried to focus on other things-checking emails, watching TV, looking through the tourist books provided by the hotel-but my thoughts would return to it quickly. I paced by it on the table. I fumed. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? How did he find me? Who takes the time to write a real letter in this day and age? What could he possibly have to say to me? I would never admit it to anyone else, but I even lifted the letter to my nose to seek out some small reminder of his scent. A pleasing fragrance that was likely a combination of subtle manly cologne and the crisp clean scent of his body wash. Frustration overtook again and I threw the letter on the sofa in my room. I knew I would open it eventually so I might as well just get it over with instead of arguing with the reality of it being here.
I had returned to the hotel after saying good-bye to Spencer who was more than settled in to Le Chesnay, the Arts-focused boarding school that he would call home for the next year. We had spent the day seeing the sights in Versailles and Paris and while he still seemed ready to keep going, I was done for the day. My feet hurt and I was ready to just relax and finish packing for my train ride in the morning to spend a few weeks with my mother in London. Leslie was comfortable in her independent living-style nursing home and I was amazed she could fit my visit in around her ever growing list of activities. It had been too long since I had seen her and she said she couldn't rest until she had seen and held me in person, after hearing about the "adventure" we all experienced on Cassadine Island. She was distraught about missing the funeral for Nikolas but it has just been too difficult for her to travel lately. Now, she would want details about what happened in Greece and I was too tired to think about it or process it any further. Anger surged again for Valentin and his actions. Why did my son have to be the one to suffer for his rage at Mikkos? How long would the shroud of Mikkos-and Helena-affect my life and my family?
Helena was the reason that I found Kevin in the first place. Sure, I knew who he was already but our paths had not crossed very much in Port Charles in the past. He was both kind and intelligent. And patient. If I was honest with myself, I was excited that he was helping me uncover the riddles left to me by Helena. And when I turned around in the hotel in Greece and saw him there with his bags, my heart began beating even faster. To follow me all that way just to help me find my son. That meant so much to me.
I finished gathering my things and prepared myself for travel in the morning. I couldn't move within the two room suite without feeling the presence of the letter. I left the bathroom and consciously turned to check and see if it was still where I had thrown it on the sofa. I lifted it up again and saw the slant of his handwriting. I knew it was from him even before I saw the return address. I'm sure the desk clerk was still recovering from my reaction earlier when he stopped me in the lobby to tell me that mail had arrived for me. I told him that he had to be mistaken but when he put the letter in my hand I knew that Kevin had found me. I had ignored his previous texts, except to send him one to let him know that Spencer and I made it safely and that I wouldn't be back in Port Charles for over a month. Lucky was scheduled to spend a few days in London in a week and then all three of us would travel back to Versailles to check on Spencer before heading to our separate destinations. I had already been gone from Port Charles a week and the events of the last few months felt like a blur.
The nightmares were back and frequented my thoughts even during the day. The confusion, the fear, the feeling like I was stuck and couldn't move. Just reading the first few pages of Kevin's novel had put me right back in that catatonic place and I felt like I couldn't breathe again. The memories of my illness were still so fresh and real despite it being over ten years ago. I had pulled myself out of that well of darkness and I was determined not to go back there again. Ever.
Again, if I was being honest with myself, I had considered going to see Dr. Collins for therapy sessions a few years ago. I had almost called his office during one of my trips to Port Charles to check on Nikolas and Lulu. I was in between therapists and had heard so many good things about him. But, something had stopped me. Maybe it was his connection to Lucy and in turn, Lucy's connection to Scotty. But now, it almost seemed as if fate intervened as I had thought then that one day we might become friends. I needed to keep the lines clear and realized even then that while no doubt an excellent therapist, he would somehow be even a better friend.
Thinking about all of this now made me realize just how much I missed him. It had been just over a week since I had seen him and it felt like years. When Spencer and I discovered a new art museum or found a favorite French restaurant all I wanted to do was share it with him. The distance was making it harder and harder to stay mad at him and yet I was too afraid to reach out to him with a phone call or email. I knew if I did, I would have to consider hearing him out and my anger at what he kept from me would likely give way to my need for him.
Images flashed in my mind. Sensations related to all five senses washed over me as I remembered how it felt when his lips touched mine the very first time. And then when they touched other places on my body. I could still hear the sound of his moan as I touched him for the first time. I could feel in my fingertips the collective beats of our hearts as we collapsed in ecstasy together.
"Stop it!"
The sound of my voice reverberated off the walls of my suite and I knew then that I had stalled for too long. I couldn't wait any longer to read his letter.