August 8th, 1989

August 8th, 1989

At home

“Karen! Wake up!”

I opened my eyes to find mum standing over me, frantically waving an envelope. “Look what just came in the post,” she shouted.

“I can hear you, mum.”

When I spotted the airmail envelope, my thoughts immediately turned to Ben and I bolted upright in bed. Then it hit me that mum wouldn’t react in such a way to anything related to Ben.

“What is that?”

“Looks like David wrote to you,” she gushed, like she already knew him.

“Oh, nice,” I said, holding out my hand.

Mum reluctantly passed the envelope to me and I was tempted to tear it open but I wanted to savour the moment. In private.

“Are you no going to open it?” she asked.

“I’ll open it later,” I said, stretching. “I need a cup of tea first.”

“Just open it and see what he has to say.”

“All in good time mum, all in good time.”

This afternoon, the second mum was out the door, I dashed up to my room. I sat on the floor and brushed my fingers across the flimsy envelope with the American stamp and David’s handwriting. I used the silver letter opener Nana gave me and marveled at the contents. Three pages filled with David’s words, some of which read:

When we landed in Delhi it was too hot to wear my jacket so I carried it and when I got to the hotel, I hung it in the closet. A couple of days later, I was filing paperwork for travel expenses and needed my boarding card for the flight information. You can imagine my surprise when I found your note in my pocket! That afternoon, I sent you a postcard, then a couple of days later I went to the market. “There’s no way it’s her, no way.” I kept thinking, navigating my way through the crowd. When I stood behind you and heard your voice, I still could hardly believe it was you.

I have his address, now I just need to get to LA.

 

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