Part Three, Chapter One:

Mr. Jonathan D. Bristow found himself sitting in his attic for the second time in the past six months.

I've gone up to the attic more times lately than I have in years, he thought as he sifted through the contents of a box.

The past six months had been especially tumultuous for the man who followed a strictly regimented schedule each and every day; for the man who sorted his socks by color, who arranged his shoes in perfect rows, who was never late, but always precisely on time.

He shook his head, effectively ending his musings about his obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Jack turned back to the box in front of him, and returned to his search.

It's about time, he said aloud to the empty room. I should have gone through these things long ago. Sydney has waited more than enough time to learn about her family.

Absently, Jack pulled a stack of envelopes, which were tied together, out of the box. He looked down at them, squinting to read the miniscule address on the front.

he thought,

He opened the top letter, and pulled out the paper.

Dear Dan,

The world is a vibrant, glowing, brilliant place. The song of the wind, the chorus of birds, the ensemble of trees, all make up the opus known as spring. Dan, I am in love, and she is in love with me too. After all my pursuits and wild chases, I find that "happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder" as Thoreau once said. Since the beginning of March, I have been the happiest I have ever been in all my life. I love Laura, and she loves me, and that is all that matters in the world.

We went to New York together for a weekend. She and I have been spending a great deal of time together. It was so wonderful to be close to her. We ate all our meals together, sharing our plates and helping one another order. We strolled around Broadway, Times Square, Rockefeller Center and the streets of New York together, holding hands and sipping at coffee. We sat in the hotel room, cuddling and watching television with her head on my chest, and my arms circled around her. We exchanged sweet kisses and tender embraces.

Dan, I have never felt this way before. Laura and I have more than just a typical relationship, we are connected mentally, physically, and spiritually. She and I are so similar that we complement each other perfectly. When she becomes frustrated, I soothe her temper, and lift her spirits. When I find myself surrounded by dark clouds, Laura brings back the sun, and gives me hope and happiness. New York has become a sort of Eden for me, a Paradise where I have truly discovered love.

Jack sat the letter down before reading another line. He ran his hand through his greying hair, brushing the errant curls from his face. He closed the box, taking the stack of letters with him and left the attic, heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Pouring himself another cup of coffee, Jack sat and contemplated the letters he had found.

Sydney doesn't know about Dan, he started to think, when suddenly, the doorbell chimed.

He walked to the door to find a large bundle of letters waiting for him. He thanked the mailman, and returned to the kitchen.

Hmmm, bill, junk, magazine, he said to himself, sorting out the mail. Ad, credit card solicitation, bill, Mr. Jonathan D. Bristow, bill, wait a second.

He pulled out the formally addressed envelope and studied it. The handwriting on it was familiar, but he couldn't place it.

he thought, I don't usually get letters.

He sat down at the kitchen table, the sunlight shining in from the full-length glass windows. He looked down at the envelope, and ripped it open, like a little child on Christmas, he eagerly looked inside to see who had sent him the first letter he'd received in over ten years.

A group of smaller envelopes lay inside the first, and he grabbed the top letter.

Opening it, he pulled out the enclosed sheets, and began to read it.

Dearest Jack,

I was thinking about days gone by. Years gone by. Things that used to be.

I've been trying to think of a reason, besides my enduring love for you, as to why I can't escape you, and my memories of you. I know you don't completely believe me when I tell you how much I love you. As a change, I'm going to tell you a more simple reason; I can't forget about you because you were the first one to pay attention to my needs and desires. You were the first who cared about me and pleasing me just as much, if not more, than your own pleasure. God, you were always so amazing.

He sat the letter down without finishing it, and opened the next envelope.

My dear Jack,

I was thinking of you once again. You never leave my thoughts, and my dreams are full of images of you and I and how we used to be. My hope is that someday we might be that way again.

Again, he sat the letter down, and continued doing so, arriving at the last envelope.

My Jack,

I was thinking about our little family. I wish it hadn't been so small. I wanted Sydney to have siblings, to have a little brother to torment, to have a little sister to advise and lend her clothes to. I wanted to feel that joy of seeing our baby for the first time, again. I nearly did.

Jack sat the last letter down, after reading the entire thing, seeing the last line, Lyubov' moya, pridi ka mne; come to me, my love.

Before reading each letter carefully, Jack shook his head, a small smile threatening to creep across his face.