The Letter

Silent Lucidity

The past few hours were a blur. Raven drove home to the ranch just as the sun was setting, packed a few belongings, then drove an hour to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport. Though she felt tired, she wanted to stave off any sleepiness for fear of having another nightmare.

She found a parking spot on the airport grounds to which she was grateful. Her feet were aching.

After going through the main terminal, she headed over to the information desk to have her ticket scanned. The check-in clerk, dressed in a suit and tie with a badge, appeared to be a high schooler.

A blush, nearly the same tint as his ginger hair, spread across his cheeks as Raven neared. He pushed his round eyeglasses with a thin metal frame further up the bridge of his nose. He flashed a nervous smile. "How can I help you?"

"I have a morning flight to Rome," Raven said. She held up her ID and phone for the check-in clerk to look over.

Reading the information, the clerk typed into a keyboard. Raven could see the screen reflected on the lens of his eyeglasses. "Raven Vashti?" He said as a statement. "Yes," Raven replied. "You're all set to go. Frontier Airlines Flight number F9 2015. Departure at 6:00 am with a four-hour layover in Las Vegas," he said. "Thanks," Raven said.

Picking up her luggage and carry-on, she headed over to the departure lounge. "Might as well get comfortable since I have a while to wait," she said, leaning back on the chair and shutting her eyes. "Just a quick nap," she reasoned too fatigued to fight off the drowsiness.

The acrylic spheres of a street lamp flicker to life in a bright, fluorescent, glow. Moths swarm around the light, drawn to its beckoning radiance in a self-destructive dance. The air is foggy. Vapors rise from a storm drain. A person appears silhouetted, leaning against the cast iron pole. A man dressed in a trendy black coat. He shoves his hands in his coat pocket. The upturned collar of his coat partially conceals his face. Fidgeting, he looked up and down the cobblestone street as though he is waiting for someone.

"Ma'am," a loud voice said, tugging Raven on the shoulder. She awoke to a woman, who resembled Mrs. Claus, peering at her over her rimless eyeglasses. Beside her was a boy, around three or four years old, in a polyester shirt, black pull-on pants, and Vans. He was holding her hand.

"You dropped this," the woman said, holding her carry-on in her free hand. "Thank you," Raven said, retrieving it. The child watched her curiously.

The scrunchy she had fastened to her hair slipped off and fell to the travel-soiled floor. The child let go of the woman's hand and stooped down to grab it. "Here you go," he said, handing it to her.

Raven couldn't help but smile. The boy, with his cherub-face and wavy ash-blond hair, looked like an angel. His rosy lips and cheeks were sticky from either sucking on a lollipop or a piece of candy. "Thanks," Raven said.

She slipped the scrunchy into the hidden pocket of her black Sterling jacket. "C'mon," the woman mumbled tugging the child's hand signaling that it was time for them to go. Walking away, the boy looked once more at Raven before disappearing from her sight.

Rubbing her neck from stiffness, Raven looked out the window. It was dark out. "What time is it?" She checked her watch. It was five minutes after eleven o'clock in the evening. "I slept for that long," she marveled. "What was that dream I had about a man waiting at a streetlight?"

Dismissing it as a bizarre dream, she reached inside her pocket to take out her phone. She turned it on to check for messages. There weren't any.

She pulled out her earbuds and plugged it into her phone. Looking over her playlist, she skipped the sappy and soft music and settled for hard rock.

Leaning back on the chair, she turned the volume up as much as she could stand as the thunderous riff's from Slash's electric guitar set the song, Welcome to the Jungle, in motion.

Without warning, embarrassing memories of her one-time attempt at being a party girl during her university days came flooding into her mind like a bad dream--neon party lights, beer-guzzling, drunk dancing, vomiting into a toilet bowl while a female voice laughed hysterically in the noisy, chaotic, background.

She felt a tap on her knee.

Sitting up at once, she stared straight into the eyes of the cherub-faced boy. He was alone. "Hi," the boy said in a baby voice.

She removed her earbuds. "H-Hi." She looked around the area for the older woman with him earlier. "You look like a fairy," the boy said, smiling. Raven blushed. "Thank you," she said. "You look like an angel."

"There you are," a man said, rushing frantically over to the boy. Dressed in a polyester shirt, black pants, and similar blond hair, Raven figured that he was the child's father. He hoisted the boy up into his arms and cradled him, relief on his face. "Don't scare me like that again. You understand!"

Nodding, the boy started to cry. Raven jumped up from the chair. "I'm sorry," she said, not sure what she was apologizing for but hoping to diffuse the tense situation. "I had seen him earlier with a woman." "His Nana," the man said.

He smiled bashfully. "My son has a soft spot for pretty girls." "He said that I look like a fairy," Raven said, grinning at the compliment. "You do!" The boy insisted while rubbing his eyes.

Raven and the man shared a good-natured chuckle at the child's candidness. "I'm Kerry and this here...," he gestured to the boy, "Is Asher."

"Nice to meet you both," Raven said.

"And your name is?" he said expectantly. "Raven," she said. Her face felt hot.

"Raven," he said. "That's easy to remember."

An announcement came over the intercom inviting those flying to Vancouver who has small children or requires special assistance to begin boarding their flight.

The man sighed. "That's our flight. I wish I could talk with you more," he said, hopeful.

Her smile falling a bit, Raven realized that he was hoping to spark a romantic connection. Relationships were the last thing on her mind, at the moment.

She stumbled over her words, trying to think of a polite way to turn him down.

He sensed her hesitation. "It's okay," the man said bluntly, no longer smiling.

Turning his back to her, he walked away; carrying the confused boy in his arms. Raven sighed. I get treated as a bad person for trying not to send him mixed signals.

Without thinking, she went to her contacts and speed-dialed her father's number. To her astonishment, someone answered it. "Hello?"

The voice was that of a young man, maybe a teenager. "Hello," the voice said again.

Her heart pounding and barely able to speak, she hung up. Her legs buckling, she fell back into the chair with such force, it nearly toppled over. "Are you okay?" she heard a voice say. She didn't answer.

The number, now someone else's, was another reminder that her father was gone. She would never hear his voice again.

Emotions of foolishness, shame, and despair riddled Raven's body in rippling waves--emotions that she tried to hold back but now was about to burst open like a dam. Retreating into herself, she let the tears fall unimpeded.