Dorothea Dreams (Heirloom Books) (39 page)

Since settling in here, I have thought of you often. You have a clever, restless, observant mind, Blanca, and it seems to me that you would make a good traveler.

Not all travels are happy ones, as you know. Your brother would not have enjoyed wandering in Canada. I have a sister who returned from an early journey forever changed for the worse (not so severely changed, however, as I had thought, as I have lately discovered). But one need not be a fugitive or an exile to fare forth, and I believe that for an eager, questing mind like yours the risks are worth the gains.

Do you recall my telling you that night of a friend from India (Sikh, but not, lucky man, sick, as you at first supposed)? He has turned up and visits me here frequently. I am reminded by him of many people I have met in my travels whose spirits have warmed at once to mine and for whom I in turn have felt an immediate liking that made the most alien settings and situations seem less strange and the world itself a less lonely place. I think now it is not so bad a thing to rove over the world clasping the hands held out to you. You may in that way meet those heart’s-kindred of whom we once spoke.

In that way you and I, against all probability, managed to meet however briefly. I hope that despite the negative aspects of that experience, when you can venture forth again, you will. I feel certain that there are many lives your life could cross to their great gain and your own.

To that end, I am making you a modest bequest in my Will. Given current economic conditions, by the time you reach your majority this money, no matter how wisely invested in the interim, will probably buy you little more than a one-way bus ticket to Denver, Colorado. The legacy is intended as an aid only, and, with luck, by that time you shall already be away on your own.

On the other hand, if I have misread you, or if you change very much between now and then and find that you would prefer to use this sum for other purposes, by all means feel free to do so. My intention is to help you to free yourself, not to constrain you in any way.

It rains here nearly all the time, but at least people know how to speak properly. They say “privv-acy,” not “pry-vacy.” Good luck to you, my dear young friend. Don’t trouble to write a reply. They assure me here that the end is very near. I find that I hardly mind.

Your old friend, Ricky

P.S. I regret being unable to write this letter in my own hand, but in the past few days my vision has gone very bad. Therefore I am dictating to a companion who is very discreet and who assures me of the privacy (see pronunciation instruction above) of this communication.

R.

The letter was on such fragile paper that, subjected to many re-readings, many foldings and unfoldings, parts of it became illegible. By that time Blanca knew the contents by heart.

THE END

Author Biography

Suzy Charnas didn’t get out of her home city of New York until the Peace Corps sent her to Nigeria in 1961, where she taught high school and fell in love with the great wide world outside Manhattan. She has pursued broadened horizons ever since in tales of fantasy and science fiction, beginning with
Walk to the End of the World,
a novel that grew into a four-book feminist epic about myth, history, and gender (winner of the Tiptree Award). Her varied sf, horror, and fantasy works (including the classic
The Vampire Tapestry
) have won the Hugo, the Nebula, the Gigamesh Award, and the Mythopoeic Award for young-adult fantasy.
Stagestruck Vampires,
her latest work (Tachyon), collects her best short fiction and essays; new stories regularly appear in original anthologies with other-worldly themes. She lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, but you can visit on the net at www.suzymckeecharnas.com.

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