March 2009, Punta Gorda, Florida
"Write a letter to yourself." That was an assignment Anne had gotten at summer camp the year she was fourteen. The letter was supposed to be about a dream that was important to her, and they'd post it to her one year later as a reminder of that dream. At the time, just few lines had been enough to do the job.
Dear Anne, everyone is telling you you're living in a sheltered bubble, so you must explore the world outside home. I believe you'll live to tell the tale, and to open this letter. Love, Anne Elliot
Now that she'd seen Frederick at the Air Show, the first time she'd had any contact with him in almost eight years, Anne felt the overwhelming urge to pen down the emotions spilling out of her. And so that night, alone in her hotel room, she wrote a letter to herself.
Dear Anne,
Today, I finally saw Frederick again. Who'd know it's been almost eight years by now? He looks exactly the same, if not even hotter than he used to be. Confidence is hot, you see, and he's got it in spades now. Not that he didn't have confidence and charisma last time when we were in college, but back then, he was still the wannabe who had yet to prove his worth to the world. You could still see the chinks where his insecurity showed from time to time. Like, for example, the careful sleight-of-hand he used to make sure everyone thought he was the coolest dude in the whole world. He'd never be caught dead studying in front of the guys in the frat house, or let anyone else know just how much sweat it cost him getting those A's in class, or his private pilot license, or his Air Force pilot slot. But now, it's all different - he's got no more reasons to be insecure because everybody looks up to him. For all those girls queueing up for his signature today, he's got the stature of a Greek god, or a rock star. To them, he's Mr. Perfect, and if you didn't know him from Adam, there'd be no way to tell that he's been through so much difficulties when he was growing up. It's as if his past never existed at all; he could've been one of those perfect kids who led a charmed life from A to Z, and I'll bet that's what those girls who were there today think he was. Well, I know better, but maybe since I'm not around to rat on his secret, he can finally erase the disadvantages of his past for good.
I wonder if Frederick's married, or going out with anybody now? I'm sure with all the female attention he's getting, it won't be difficult for him to move on, and he probably has. And if he's got somebody else, I don't even have the right to mind anymore; I gave that up way back in 2001 when I walked away from him. But I can't help wondering if whoever he's with is making him happier than when I was with him; if she's able to look after him and support him in the way I did, in the way I still want to. But it'd be presumptuous of me to start digging into his personal life, and even more so if I show up and re-introduce myself to him after so many years. He has a right to build a new life for himself, and even if I flattered myself to think he'd still care about me, even just a tiny smidgen, I can't just barge in like that. Not when I've sacrificed everything, all my goals, dreams and happiness, to make sure he would not be burdened with my family situation since they're my karma and I'd never wish them onto anyone else.
Well, since it's my karma, I hope I'm doing a good enough job of looking after my family. I turned out to be right about Grandma after all, in a way. She lived three years and two months after the diagnosis, much longer than what the doctors ever predicted. For those of us in the know, there's always hope even in Stage 4. Granted, it's not the same kind of hope as those folks in Stage 1 or 2 may have; but the hope we have is to control the disease, and we know it's not impossible to think with the long run in mind. We were fortunate in so many ways, like how we've been largely successful in keeping her side effects in check. And when the final weeks came around, I learned that there's still hope in the face of death; you can still hope for a peaceful passing, with lots of love and the minimum of suffering. I'm glad to have been able to see Grandma through that, even if I was scared like crazy all the way. I owe Grandma a lot for bringing us up - even if we didn't always see eye to eye, I know she always had our welfare in mind, and for that I'm eternally grateful. And so seeing her through the journey of life, that's the least I can do to reciprocate and I've done it.
These years, they've been hard on Mary in a different way, too. She was just as scared as me about Grandma's cancer diagnosis, and maybe even more since she's always lived in fear that we'd die and abandon her, the way she thinks Mom did. I wish I had more time to comfort her back then, but I was just in over my head with my work and looking after Grandma and running the house as best as I could with Rosa. The Musgroves were a godsend to step in the way they did, so Mary could get away from the house from time to time. She couldn't take it, facing all the trappings of illness and knowing just how serious things were. It was harder for her, I guess, being still so young and all. Who's to know I wouldn't have reacted the same way if it had happened when I was her age? Anyway, she needed to be a normal teenager some of the time, going for parties, movies and swing dancing; and Charles was able to come in to give her a little bit of that life. I guess it's no surprise they ended up together; after all, he was her best friend during those days, and the Musgroves' was where she could take refuge whenever she wanted to get away from the grim, gloomy world of cancer. I'd like to think Grandma would have approved of them getting married, even though she didn't live to see the actual wedding. But by the time she went, I think she probably knew already that it'd happen sooner or later. I'd like to believe she went with the consolation that Mary would be well taken care of.
I'm worried about Father and Liz, actually. I haven't been to see Mr. Shepherd since Grandma stopped going for the meetings; it's not my place to be there when Father's the head of the household unless he specifically invites me. But I can see how they're living it up in Palm Beach, and I wonder how much they could possibly save. At least, the Big Three have rebounded somewhat and the auto industry is doing pretty OK for now, so I hope things can hang in there for awhile. But if I were Father or Liz, I wouldn't spend the way they do. We might not be all the way down the toilet, but we're not totally in the clear either.
Where do I see myself one year from now? This is the part where in summer camp, they tell us to put down something on our bucket list we hope to do, so when we open the letter the next year, we can feel happy we've done it. But I'm turning 31 next month, and I don't have a bucket list anymore. In fact, I know if I open this letter again one year from now, I'll have moved backwards rather than forwards, because I'll be living in Charles and Mary's house like an au pair. I already said no to that once, when little Charlie was born. I figured Mary was already getting more help than most other young moms, because she and Charles took on Rosa after Grandma passed, and Mrs. Musgrove is right next door. But now that she's expecting a second child, it isn't fair to expect Mrs. Musgrove to look after both of Mary's kids, especially when the twins are still teenagers and need someone to keep an eye on them; and with Rosa retiring, there'll be nobody to do the dreaded middle-of-the-night bathroom runs and such. True, I'm working and Mary isn't, so I'll be hard pressed to catch a few winks of sleep here and there; but realistically, knowing Mary, she still won't lift a finger and someone needs to tag team with Charles, since he's working too.
So what messages shall I leave for myself next year? Hang in there. Find little joys in life, like listening to those old '80s and '90s songs and remembering the days when you were young. Continue praying for Frederick, because he's safely back in the US and he's doing well, so somewhere your prayers have been answered. And remember to take care of yourself and do the right thing by others. True, sometimes it really sucks that nobody appreciates you, but you've got to remember, you can't just demand attention the way Liz and Mary do. You've got to earn it, and if you make the first move by treating others right first, then someday in the long run, they'll treat you right in return. I've got to tell myself all these things, because nobody will give me these little encouragements if I don't do it myself.
Yours,
Anne Elliot
P.S. I think I've got the whole situation in a nutshell, it all goes back to my favorite song in the end. Fred's out there flying, his dream come true like the song said. What about me? To quote the song, I am, "just an earth-bound misfit, I".
THE END - PART I
