The Love Letters: A Novella (10 page)

January 3, 2003

Fuck Muffin,

Happy New Year! Is it possible to have a hangover for two days? If so, then I hold you responsible because you made me have a party!

New Year’s Eve was supposed to be a small gathering of some friends. Very casual. Chloe and I rented movies and bought as much junk food and liquor as we could carry from across the street. Which I’ll have you know, your girl has some major biceps! I benched three bottles of wine and two cases of beer easily.

The plan was to hang out by ourselves until guests arrived around 11 p.m. We were bored and thirsty by 9 p.m., so Chloe and I had a few beers, a couple vodka grapefruits, and a delicious rum milkshake garnished with Oreos. Around 10 p.m., one of us had a brilliant idea – a photo shoot. The initial theme was 1940s pin-up – something classy you could display in your bunk.

The first few poses were very sensual but tame. And then slowly, after shots of tequila, I began doing things that would make a porn star blush. And even better? My cousin took the photos! As soon as I have the courage to print the pictures, I’m sending them to you – as long as you promise that NO ONE else will see them.

Where was I? Oh yeah, after the pornographic photo shoot, Chloe and I made a solemn promise to NEVER speak of those pictures. She offered to take them because she loves me, but even I feel like we overstepped a few familial boundaries. I suggested she take more photos of the party, like our friends playing beer pong or something. She needed to cleanse her palette so to speak.

When our friends arrived, I felt oddly uncomfortable. The rum milkshake was most likely the culprit, but I also had a sharp aching in my stomach. We were all in your apartment! It’s like we snuck in to have a party – in your life. It’s not fair, Zach. I don’t want to feel like I’m playing a role in your other life.

Why can’t you be here? Stop making me feel like you don’t even exist!

That was mean.

I’m sorry.

But it’s true. Sometimes I believe you’re an invisible friend.

I need you here, Zach. Always.

XO Natalie

January 5, 2003

Natalie,

The day has arrived. I’m leaving on a convoy later today and heading north toward Tora Bora. My assignment came earlier than expected, but that’s the way the military works. People get moved around when the opportunity and the means are considered priority.

From what I’ve heard, it’s actually pretty enjoyable in that area of the country. Beaucoups of sand, but surprisingly, an attractive landscape. I’ve been instructed to bring only the essentials. Therefore, Mario Lopez will have to stay behind and defend my footlocker – but with his dimples, he can charm any enemy.

I’m emailing you a new address to use that will transport my mail to the closest PE (postal exchange.) I’m also enclosing a check for you to spend on a lingerie shopping-spree. Nothing would bring a bigger smile to my face than imagining you picking out things you know I would like. In fact, I’ll need details in your next correspondence.

I won’t have email access, so it’s time to make the postal system our bitch.

I love you.

Zach

January 7, 2003

Lt. Love Monkey,

Holy shit that address is long! I’ll also have you know that the last time I wrote a series of love letters to a guy was 1991. Luke Perry and I had a very special bond.

Maybe I could use one of his letters and substitute your name?

“Oh, Zach, your sideburns are so sexy. I love when you drive fast in your vintage car and dress like James Dean. Will you marry me?”

What if I write about my sexual fantasies? Is that a good place to start?

XO Nat

January 13, 2003

Natalie,

Luke Perry? Lame. And seriously, could they not find a younger actor to play a high school kid? I’m happy to know your taste in men has evolved. It is my honor to be your perfect specimen.

And don’t freak about the letters. They don’t have to be anything we’re not. Tell me stories, send me pictures, and just be you.

I’ll go first.

When I was in middle school, I had this friend named Joey Darts. Well, that was his nickname. A moniker he received from hanging around his uncle’s pub. You’ve lived in Greenwich, so you’ll understand what I mean by pub. (A high-class establishment near the water that serves wine and liquor.) But the place did have an amazing billiard room.

So Joey would go there during lunch and play darts. By 9
^th
grade, he had a hustling scam going that racked in $1000 every week.

A few of the pissed-off marks eventually reported Joey’s illegal activities. No charges were pressed, but Joey’s parents immediately pulled him from school and shipped him off to some military academy in the South.

And as fate would have it, guess who I played darts with last night? Lt. Joseph Darts O’Sullivan.

Your turn.

Love,

Zach

January 21, 2003

Zach,

Do you mean O’Sullivan’s by the Water? The one with mermaid statue by the door? I loved that place!

I’m not a great storyteller, but I’ll try my best.

Yesterday I went shopping at Saks with my newly acquired lingerie allowance from my sugar daddy. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything crazy, so it was the perfect opportunity to reenact my favourite scene in Pretty Woman “I’ve got money to spend here.” I waltzed into the lingerie department with an arrogant smile – demanding to be waited on while I flashed wads of cash. It totally worked! Sales ladies were parading items from European designers in front of me while I sat on a velvet sofa drinking champagne. They even rolled out the fancy shit that’s usually reserved for celebrities and high-dollar escorts.

After choosing my favourite colors and styles, I was escorted to a private fitting room with intimate lighting and a wall of mirrors. As I was removing my clothes, a very attractive woman entered the fitting room. She gave me a flirtatious smile before locking the door and joining me.

While helping me out of my clothes, her hand innocently brushed against my exposed breasts. I was flushed and unprepared – new feelings excited me. I watched her as she circled me, closely inspecting my nude form. Stopping in front of me and cocking her eyebrow, she then removed a measuring tape from her pocket. To my surprise, she wrapped the tape around my chest, tugging slightly as her hand grazed my hard nipples. It was sensual. No, it was fucking hot.

Getting back to the lingerie . . . she asked me what styles and fabric I wanted to try. Unsure and wanting to flirt, I asked her to show me hers. She removed her dress and placed my hand on the cup of her bra, wanting me to feel the texture of the lace. Definitely my style, and I loved the matching thong. Moving my hand to her ass, she mentioned that all the husbands and boyfriends love the lace ruffle on the gray thong. Very vintage and sexy.

When I explained that my man was overseas playing darts and shooting guns, she took me in her arms and kissed my cheek. I’m sorry, Zach, but I blame Pretty Woman and the glass of champagne.

Our lips met. We giggled at first – but as soon as our breasts pressed together, it all felt very natural.

I bought $586 worth of lingerie. And as I write this bogus story, I’m wearing the gray lace thong with the tiny row of ruffles.

Come home to me and I’ll make it happen.

xoxo Nat

January 30, 2003

Natalie,

It’s official.

You’re the perfect woman.

Zach