Caroline & The 40 Love Letters
Chapter Two
By: Jana~
~~Disclaimer~~
(Link doesn't work? See below.)
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--"You look like you've been crying…" he repeated… "Are you ok?"
"Yeah!" Caroline lied… "Just… lots of dust in the box… my eyes are just irritated."
He eyed her warily for a moment, then stood and brushed off his hands… "Ok. Well, I'll be back in a few with the last box…"
"Ok."
With a second concerned glance, he looked at her briefly before turning and leaving.
She watched the door for a moment after he left, then walked slowly towards it. Once there, she peeked out the peephole to be sure he had gone. When she felt certain he had, she ran back to the stack of letters, retrieving them from the hiding place under the couch cushions.
* * *
'Caroline,
It's been so long since I've done this… writing to you I mean. I've just been busy. I had to take a second job, walking the gallery owner's six dogs. All poodles. All white. I can only tell them apart by which ones lift to pee on my feet and which ones squat. What is it with French dogs? Are people's shoes their equivalent to a hydrant? Or is it just me? Just me most likely. I miss you, Caroline. So much.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Here I am, writing to you again. Because I am pathetic and unable to get you out of my mind. Because every day without you is like torture. Because even when I'm awake I dream of you. Because I miss you so much I ache. Pain is supposed to be good for art, if that were true, I'd be the most sought-after artist ever.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
I often wonder, do you miss me at all? I mean, you probably don't, but I sometimes think that maybe… just maybe, you might. Your life is probably so great, and so busy, I bet you don't think of me at all. I wish I could see you again, but I know if faced with you, I wouldn't be able to say any of the things I would like to say. Like, how much you mean to me. No, it's better for you if I stay away at this point. You don't need a pathetic love-struck fool coveting you. But God, I miss you.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
I quit the gallery. It was demeaning. I walked around 'guarding' the place, looking at all the talented and talent-less paintings and sculptures, knowing I'm not seen as an equal to these artists, but just the 'pathetic American' who guards their work. It finally took its toll. Not to mention the dog-walking. Look at what I've been reduced to… the life I've created for myself… all because I love you. There. I said it. Even though you will never see these words, or hear them from my mouth, at least I'm admitting it to myself. Knowing I can never have you… be with you… that's worse than the knowledge that I will never be anything but a starving wanna-be artist.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
I sold a painting! I can't believe it, but I sold a painting! It wasn't even dry yet! I was just finishing up a piece I called 'Without Caroline', and a man came up to me and offered me 5,000Francs! That's only about $700, but it's still enough to eat for a few weeks, and get the slumlord off my back. I wanted so badly to call you and tell you. Sure, it's not like I got a gallery show or anything, just a guy off the street who liked one of my paintings, but it was a sign to me that maybe things aren't as hopeless as I thought. If he liked my painting, maybe others will too. It's not much, but when you hit rock bottom and reside there for a while, anything good that happens, you hold on to, and appreciate more. I know that's the case with you. It's only been without you that I've realized how much I loved being in your presence. Every day. I miss you.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Now I have insomnia. It is 3 in the morning and I haven't been to sleep yet. I can't stop thinking of you. I know if I go to sleep, I'll dream of you. I will dream of taking you in my arms, kissing you, making love to you. My dreams of you have become quite vivid… and often of a sexual nature. I usually awake feeling guilty, like I took advantage of you or something. I have to remind myself that it was just a dream, and that you were never here… moaning my name… whispering words of love. God, it's been so long since I've been with a woman… that's all this is. If I were to find a nice woman and-- Who am I kidding? I don't want just any woman… just sex… I want you. If I could just fall asleep, I could have you. Even if only for a brief time… even if only in my dreams. It'll have to do.
I love you.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
I had this sickening feeling today that something happened to you. I thought my heart would burst out of my chest it was racing so fast. I almost called you, I had the phone in my hand, but when the operator asked me for the number, I requested the number of the newspaper instead. The guy who answered the phone must've thought I was an idiot. Well, I am, so I guess he would've been right in his assumption. I asked if the 'Caroline' strips were new or re-runs. He said they were new… hesitantly, like I was a moron for asking. I just had to know that you were alright.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
There's a stray cat that has adopted me. She reminds me a lot of Salty. I give her the few scraps I can spare, but as soon as my hands are empty, she leaves. I think that's why I am not fond of cats, they remind me of humanity at its worst. Get what they need from you… use you, then move on. You were different. Are different. You are giving almost to a fault, with no ulterior motives anywhere in your heart. Individuals like you are rare. It's no wonder why I care for you so. I miss you terribly.
Love,
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
With everything I have I drag myself out of bed… for what? To get gallery doors slammed in my face? To get insulted by rude people who think they have the right to judge me… and look down their noses at me? To give the few scraps of food I have to an ungrateful cat? To wait behind other disgruntled residents of this slum for the privilege of taking a cold, 5 minute shower in the only shower this entire 3 story building has? At least in New York I had my own bathroom. In New York… I had you. I know, I didn't 'have you', but I had you in my life… and although I never thought that was enough, and I always wanted more, I long to have that again. If that's all I can have of you, employer and friend, then I can live with that. I know that now. But, I burned my bridges, as the saying goes, and now I am utterly alone.
Forever missing you,
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Today I got yet another job. Another demeaning, depressing, useless job. I spray cologne on people as they walk by down at the department store. The little French I know is spent apologizing to irate people who didn't want to be sprayed with cologne. I come home smelling like I took a swan dive into the stuff… even the stray cat doesn't want to come near me anymore. I have never changed employers so many times ever in my life! With you, I knew my job was secure. I knew you wouldn't just snap your fingers and fire me. I knew I wasn't dispensable to you. I have to go lie down, this cologne gives me a headache.
Love,
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Ok, and just when you thought life couldn't get any worse… I was fired as the cologne sniper. Apparently, I didn't meet my quota. My quota! I was actually fired for not spraying enough people with rank toilette water! I needed that job too. The money from that painting is dwindling fast. At least my head stopped throbbing. That perfume was horrible! Actually cleared the roaches out of my apartment. They shouldn't sell it as cologne, they should sell it as bug repellent. Anyway, back out I go tomorrow… out to find another job in which I will likely be fired from inside 2 weeks. Or maybe I'll just stay in bed till I'm discovered months later, being remembered as 'that guy who died and stunk up the place'. Maybe they'll put that on my headstone, if I even have a tombstone.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Do you know what I want more than anything? To go back in time. Go back to when you first told me Del proposed. I rambled on about cerulean blue when I should have told you how I felt. That I didn't see you and Del as a good match, and that I had feelings for you. Instead, I ran away. Then you came to talk to me, and found that woman in my closet, and you left. I went after you. I wanted to tell you then, but what did I do instead? Took the coward's way out and advised you to go up a street to find a cab. I should have taken you in my arms and kissed you right then. You looked so beautiful, the rain dampening your hair… God I wanted to kiss you. But I ran. It's why I'm here now, in France… because I ran. When things get complicated, when my heart is in jeopardy, I run. Pretty soon, there will be nowhere left to run too. Nowhere left to hide. Then what do I do? I don't know either.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
You know what I was thinking about today? Your dimples. When you'd smile, those two adorable dimples would show and it would literally make my day. They were never there when you weren't really smiling. If you were smirking politely at one of Annie's lame attempts at humor, the dimples didn't show up. I noticed that almost right away, and would sometimes have to fight to hide a grin when I caught what I called the dimple-less smile. I wonder if anyone else has noticed that about you. That when you're humoring someone, your smile is different. I noticed. I miss your smile.
Love,
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Salty 2 came by begging for scraps again today. I found myself telling the stupid fleabag about my problems, like it cared or understood. Then, if that wasn't pathetic enough, the crazy lady from apartment six, who talks to her hand by the way, wandered by and called me an 'imbécile'. And even though she said it in French, I pretty much got the gist of what she meant. I tried to insult her back, but having a limited knowledge of French, I think I ended up calling her a poached salmon. What does it say about a person when even known crazy people call you a fool? Whatever it says, it's not good.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
No luck finding a job. I've lost so many jobs, I'm considered a poor risk. No one wants to hire someone who's lost no fewer than four jobs in less than three months time. So, I'm back to painting. Maybe someone will happen along again and buy up a painting. Yeah, well, as unlikely as that is, I don't have a lot of options available to me at the moment. If I don't find some way of getting some money, I'm going to have to fall back to New York with my tail between my legs. Just the idea of going back to New York, and possibly seeing you again, thrills me and frightens me, all at the same time. God, what would I even say to you? I just don't know.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Well, the slumlord was going to evict me, but took a painting as payment to buy me another two weeks. If I can't find a job or sell a painting in that time, I will have to use my return ticket to New York. I bought the open-end return ticket 'just in case', but dreaded ever having to use it. Now, here I am faced with having to, and it makes my heart sink and my blood run cold. I know chances are slim, that in such a big city as New York I would run into you at some point, but the idea that I might terrifies me. God, what you must think of me. I would rather never see you again than see pity in your eyes, directed at me. God how I miss the sparkle in your eyes. Dwelling on you is slowly driving me mad.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Well, today was weird… I found a wad of money. I spent the better part of the day finding out how I might find the owner of the money, even though the idea of keeping it was very tempting, but my karma is already horrible. I didn't want to add more bad luck to my life by taking money that didn't belong to me, but everyone I asked… police, newspapers, shops nearby where I found the money, they all said without identification, finding the owner would be impossible. They all advised me to keep the money for myself. So, now I have a dilemma. Do I spend the money to eat and pay the slumlord, or do I exchange it for US currency and use my return ticket back to New York? I wish I could get your advice. I'm just not sure what to do. I have ten days to decide. That's when my two weeks is up.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
If something doesn't happen soon, I will be forced to go back to New York. I have taken to setting all my paintings out around me as I paint, hoping to sell something, but so far, no interest. I have five days left. If I can't give this wretched slumlord more money within five days, I am 'out on my pear'. He either means 'ear' or 'rear', but I don't care to ask him… or talk to him any longer than I have to. He reeks so bad, my eyes water just being near him. I don't know, maybe I would be better off in New York. Either way, doesn't look like I'll be getting much of a choice in the matter.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
Well, that's it. I'm on my way back to New York. Almost sold three paintings yesterday. He was set to pay me 50,000 Francs for all three, but before he could pay me, he got knocked off the bridge and fell to his death. I would feel bad for him if I wasn't so busy feeling bad for myself. I have three days in which to vacate my room. I have called the airlines and booked a flight back, and I have enough money to get an apartment once I get there, provided I don't mind sleeping with rats and roaches. I still don't know what to do about a job, but I guess I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Hopefully, I won't fall off it like the Frenchie I encountered yesterday did.
Richard'
* * *
* * *
'Caroline,
I am on the plane now, on my way to New York. I hate flying. I hate this fear rushing through me that I will be faced with your pity-filled eyes. God, I want to see you again… I want to hold you and kiss you and make love to you… God, I am pathetic! You're married! I need to get past these thoughts and desires. I need to stop loving you, but how? How does one stop the ocean's tide? Or stop the sun from rising and setting? I don't know either. I don't know what I would do if in your presence, and I don't trust myself to find out.
Richard'
* * *
--Caroline's tears flowed freely as she finished the last letter. She never knew how he felt… he hid it so well from her. From everyone. How could she face him now? Knowing what she now knew. Knowing he felt the same as she did.
She placed the letter back in the envelope and set it on the stack with the other read letters. Preoccupied with drying her tears, she left the letters on the coffee table as she reached for kleenex off the kitchen bar.
"This is the last box…" Richard stated with a strained voice as he entered Caroline's loft, struggling with the fairly large box. He dropped it to the floor near the door, then looked up sheepishly… "Sorry."
He could tell immediately that she had been crying, and it was clearly not just simply dust as she had claimed before…
"Caroline? Why are you crying?"
Without a word she took several long strides to him and threw her arms around him.
He was startled, and jumped nervously as she held him tight to her… "What-- What's going on?"
She didn't answer, she just wound her hands into his hair and pulled him into a passionate kiss.
Shocked, but unable to resist responding, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back with extreme love and intensity. It took several minutes before his head cleared enough to question what was happening…
"Caroline? What--?"
"I read your letters…" she stated softly…
"My letters?"
She pointed at the stack on the coffee table, and he immediately recognized them…
"Oh, God. Caroline, why did you read these?" he asked, sounding upset as he grabbed them off the table… "You read all of them?"
"Yes. You said I could look through the box… they were addressed to me…" she looked away sadly… "Sorry…"
He winced at the sound of sadness in her voice, and he picked at the envelopes for a moment before speaking up… "Why did you kiss me?"
She smiled weakly… "I feel the same as you."
"The same as me?" he questioned…
"I love you too Richard. Or…" she hesitated… "Or, do you not feel the same anymore?"
He took a shaky breath and looked to the ground… "I still feel the same, Caroline. I am deeply in love with you."
Caroline choked back a sob, taking a step closer to him, but stopping short of reaching him… "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was afraid…"
"Of?"
"Of being rejected. Of ruining our friendship. I would rather have you as a friend than not have you at all."
"Richard…" her voice was a whisper…
"I went through hell in France. I thought I was actually going mad. I couldn't stop thinking about you… dreaming about you. I wanted to call you… to see you, but was afraid to. When I saw you when I first got back… it took everything in my power not to take you in my arms and kiss you. Then I saw you with Joe…"
"I'd known him for mere hours! If you had said something, I would've dropped him faster than a hot potato."
"I didn't know that."
"Sometimes with matters of the heart, you have to take chances."
"I know. I guess I'm just bad at that."
She smiled as she closed the gap between them… "Well, there's no chances to take right now. The cards are on the table…" she reached out and touched his chest gently… "So, it's your play. What happens now?"
Tenderly, he touched her cheek with his fingers, running along her jaw-line till he finally entangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her to him gently… "Now…" he whispered, his lips centimeters from hers… "I kiss you… and touch you… if you approve."
She nodded, and they both smiled as they melted into each other, hands groping and fondling passionately.
--Did he mean for her to find those letters, or did he simply forget they were there? Caroline never did find out.
THE END
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