-THE LOVE LETTER
CHAPTER FOUR - Lavinia
Lavinia sat in the large couch in her living room, staring tediously at the TV and oblivious to whatever was on, while her husband was laughing loud and drinking his third beer.
She dreaded days like this. His day-off consisted in sitting on the couch all day watching stupid shows and asking her for food. If she tried to start a conversation, he would cut her short asking her to just sit by his side and be quiet.
'Like a trained dog!' she thought to herself.
She wondered what made her marry a man who obviously had nothing in common with her and was visibly not at all interested in what she had to say. Probably her lack of self-esteem, the thought that she could never get something better.
Looking at her for the first time, one could see nothing extraordinary. She was plain. Dark brown hair, thick and full, an ordinary looking nose and relatively full lips. She wasn't slim nor she was fat, even though her husband loved to make remarks about how she should go on a diet before it was too late. So much for her self-esteem! The most remarkable thing on her, were her eyes. They were small and hazel in color, but she had a way of staring that seemed to see more than she was supposed to. It usually made people uncomfortable.
Coming from a strict and conservative family which was adamant about the fact that she had to find a husband before she got too old and it seemed to her, at times, that they were more than happy to get rid of her. They would probably have pushed her to any idiot available. And the idiot she chose was John Lewis. A short stocky guy with clear blue eyes and curly blond hair.
John owned a small diner downtown and he worked most of the time, specially on weekends. One day a week was enough for him to get some rest, and as she had come to think, it was more than enough. Lately, she found herself wishing he would not come home at all.
She had learned to cope with her loneliness very well, with books and writing. She was an avid reader and as for the writing, if she wanted to write something, it was
always when he wasn't home. After he had read her journals without her consent and burned them, making it clear that he would become very violent if he found any of that 'depraved nonsense' again.
The invasion of her privacy, was just one of many things she loathed about him.
That's when she started to write her secret letters, letters for a man she wished and dreamed about since she was a little girl. The shining knight, the one who would sweep her away and love her... she had always been prone to fantasize and the lack of intimacy and affection had only increased that side of her.
John had sold their old house to buy one near downtown, where it was easier for him to get to work.It was a ranch style house with a lot of character.
She loved the house, it was actually about 30 years old, but in great condition. There was a big stone fireplace in their living room and it was something rarely, if never, used in a city like Houston. Because of its humid hot weather. Even in the winter, a fireplace was not really necessary, so it only added to the decoration of the room, and a great place to hide whatever letters or poems she wanted to write. Her secret place inside the fireplace, a little entrance between two bricks that she had found while exploring it.
As if to confirm her own thoughts, a slight "thump" sounded in the fireplace, making her jump out of her musings. To her horror, she wasn't the only one to get startled by the sound.
In less than a minute, John was crouching under the stones on the entrance of the hearth.
Lavinia's heart was racing as she saw him reaching his hand up the chimney.
'He's going to find it...Oh Lord,' she thought, grasping the sides of her skirt, until her knuckles were white.
John slid back and stood up looking confused.
"Funny, I was sure it came from the fire place!"
He brushed it off as an old house sound and immediately went back to his own mediocre world, while a very relieved and confused Lavinia waited for her heart to slow down.
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Later that night, Lavinia waited until his snores were loud and constant, a sign he was deeply sleeping.
She carefully lifted the covers and got up. Tip-toeing, she left the bedroom and moved in the darkness through the house she was already used to, not bothering to turn on any lights.
Coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, she crouched and just as John had done, she reached up the chimney and tried to retrieve the metal box she so carefully hid her letters in.
Gasping she slid herself out of the hearth, not standing up but sliding backwards, only to stop and the foot of the couch. Breathing hard, she tried to calm herself down.
The box wasn't there. There was nothing there. That explained why John hadn't found it, but it did not explain why it wasn't there.
Who could ever... why? It couldn't be John! If he had come across the letters, he would have killed her already, if not, hurt her badly.
She stayed there for a long time thinking and enjoying the silence she had come to love more than her failed marriage.
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Morning came and John was gone for the day.
Thankful she spent her morning doing some cleaning and after lunch she decided to read a book and try to relax. The events of the previous night were still clinging to her mind. She couldn't understand what was happening and worst of all, she couldn't talk to anyone about it.
Who would she ask?
She kept staring at the same page, trying to read the same line over and over. Concentration was impossible and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop questioning it.
The familiar "Thump" sounded again making her stomach do a little flip. She stood up, her hands shaking and she was frozen there for a while, deciding what to do next.
She was almost afraid to move. In the back of her mind, she had a little idea of what would happen, but her consciousness kept telling her it was absurd.
Reluctant, she moved forward, slowly, her eyes not leaving the dark opening of the hearth. She finally started to bend in front of it, her heart increasing its beating as she crouched.
Reaching a trembling hand, she moved closer and up the chimney. Holding her breath, she flinched when she touched the cool dusty exterior of the metal box that was neatly stacked between two bricks.
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A/N: not Snape in this one, but don't worry, he'll be back on the next!