In Our Darkness - 13. Chapter 13: The Letter

Celia had a rather peculiar way of spending September 4th every year. After diligently checking on her friend Elisabeth with a well-meaning and concerned phone call, and always making sure to inquire about David and offering to bring over some homemade lasagna, which would inevitably be turned down every single time, she would make herself a cup of English Breakfast tea with a spot of milk and one teaspoon of sugar, and she’d settle into the large grey comfy lounge chair downstairs.

She would sip her tea slowly and wait for Frank to leave for work. Then, she would pull out an old chest from beneath the bed. It held postcards, birthday cards, and Thank You notes. But it wasn’t those she was searching for, instead she always reached for the same plain white paper envelope that contained a short letter written on a piece of notebook paper. A letter that wasn’t meant for her, yet in her mind belonged to her, like a second-place consolation prize.

She would sit at the kitchen table, get out her favorite gingerbread pastries, sip her tea, and read the letter slowly and carefully. She would savor each word with a twisted cruelty, knowing Elisabeth would do everything in her power to have this piece of paper in her possession, were she aware of its existence. Knowing that for once, she held the power, she had knowledge that Elisabeth did not. It gave her a feeling of a high, similar to what she imagined a heroin trip must be like. It felt exquisite.

The letter in itself was quite simple. Celia concluded that it must have been written by someone with very little education. Maybe a schoolboy. The penmanship was disjointed and crooked. Definitely not written by a woman.

“Dear Mrs. Andrews,

You don’t know me, and I have no right to write you, but I feel in my heart that its the right thing to do.

I was there on the night when you got into the big car accident. I saw everything that happened. I know no words that could make this better. I think about what happened everyday. In fact, it’s all I think about.

I’m ready to tell the truth. Please meet with me so that I can explain and apologize in person.

I’m scared, I don’t know what to do. I just want to tell you what happened and have the chance to apologize to you face to face.

I am very sorry.”

There was no name, but the envelope contained a return address and phone number. When Celia received the letter, mistakenly sent to Elisabeth’s old address–which was now Celia’s home—she thought about handing it over. Of course, it was the right thing to do. The Andrews’ would love her forever. She’d be the person who would make it all right for them again. The one to solve the mystery, put the pieces of their broken lives together again. She had every intention of doing the right thing, but then something happened.

She invited David over, she wanted to break the news to him first. Without Elisabeth there, and with this insanely amazing news who knows how he would react, he might even kiss her! And after all, he was the broken one. Somehow Elisabeth managed to make it through the whole thing sensibly, much to Celia’s surprise. But poor David, he was devastated. Each year declining further and further. And Elisabeth didn’t seem to understand, she was cold to him.

All Celia wanted to do was hold him and share this special moment with him. Hand over the final piece of evidence that would connect all the dots, and mend broken David together. And he would thank her for it profusely. Maybe he would even love her. Sure, she’d never be Elisabeth, but she would take good care of him. She’d look after him.

She phoned him over when Frank was out of town on business, she told him she had something important to discuss. He sounded wary on the phone, like he was busy, but he finally relented and came over.

When he walked inside, he looked like a tired man. A messy smattering of facial hair and red eyes. But to Celia he was just as perfect as ever. She would take him even like this—for her love was unconditional.

“What’s going on?” he asked her with a raspy voice. She noted how strong his arms looked in the grey t-shirt he was wearing.

“Come sit in the kitchen. Let me make you some tea,” she offered, and he followed her into the sunlit kitchen. He sat on the stool as she boiled water. She could feel the anticipation building throughout her body. This was the moment she had waited for all this time. This was her chance to get the man of her dreams. Sure, Frank would be sad at first, but eventually he would understand. Maybe he and Elisabeth could even find comfort in each other and forgive David and Celia. And they would all remain friends. Celia smiled at that possibility.

She handed David a cup of tea, pulled out a few Madeline cookies and served them on a white plate. He grabbed a cookie and ate it in one bite, like a starved man. That Elisabeth, she never did take care of him. Celia would make sure to always keep him well fed.

Instead of sitting across from him, she sat next to him. She wanted to be close to him as she confessed about the letter. He looked taken aback and confused but adjusted his body towards her.

“David,” she started and got completely lost in his blue eyes. There was a crumb of a Madeline cookie right by his beautiful lips. She wanted to clear it away. She moved her hand toward his face, gently trying to brush it off, but he grabbed her by her wrist, mid-air. It felt like a death grip.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, more harshly than he perhaps intended. And just like that, she snapped out of it.

“I was just…you have a crumb,” she mumbled.

“What?” he asked, confused and annoyed. She didn’t understand why he was being so cruel to her. He still had his hand holding her wrist, and due to some crazy impulse, she put her face on it, as a gesture of forgiveness. She laid her cheek on his hand, trying to make him see that she was in his corner. She had seen this done in movies and thought it would be quite romantic.

But instead, he ripped his arm away like it was on fire and stood up.

“What is this? What are you doing?” he asked fiercely. He was just protecting himself, she thought. He knew there was something between them, but he didn’t want to hurt Elisabeth.

“I love you,” she said, and smiled. And the look on his face after she uttered those words would haunt her for years to come. It was a look of pure revulsion, like she was a soft smelly dog turd that he accidentally stepped in.

He quickly recovered and said placatingly, “I think you’re tired and confused, Celia.”

“I’m not confused, David,” she said desperately. He ignored her.

“Look, I have to go. Let’s forget this ever happened. You know I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” he emphasized the us, stinging Celia with the reminder of Elisabeth, “but maybe we let you do too much. Gave you the wrong impression.” Each word felt like a blow to Celia. But she knew now it was impossible. Not only was David not grateful for her love, but he was repulsed by it. There was no way she could give him the information she had now. No, neither one of them deserved to know the truth. Life had a way of punishing people, and clearly both of them deserved for this to happen. That’s when Celia decided, neither one of them would ever see the letter. Neither one of them would ever know the truth.

She penned a letter back to the return address, telling the sender to never contact her again or she would give him up to the police. She said she had moved on, and that he should do so as well. It never even crossed her mind to find out who it was—she didn’t care. She hoped they would never get caught.

This way, Celia would make sure that both David and Elisabeth would go to their graves never knowing who killed their precious son.