The Letter

At First Sight

"What do I?" Raven thought, chewing a fingernail. It's not like I can just walk up to him and say, "Hi. You don't know me but I dreamed about you last night. Who does that!"

She snuck another peek at the mysterious man. He was still there, this time with a smirk plastered on his face. Raven made a face. What the hell!

Drawing a breath, she gathered all the nerves that she could muster, rose from her seat, and approached him cautiously.

"H-Hi," she said with a slight wave. Sitting still as a statue, the man didn't acknowledge her. Undeterred, Raven pulled out the chair and sat opposite him on the other side of the table.

With a better view of his face, the mystery man was handsome. Beautiful even. His thick shoulder-length black hair fell in unruly curls like coiled snakes on the curves of his v-shaped face. He had a chiseled jawline that would make any sculptor proud.

Freckles peppered his sharp nose and cheeks as though someone took a paintbrush and flecked specks of brown paint on his face like a canvas. His heart-shaped lips were pink yet slightly chapped and his long, slender, fingernails caked with dirt.

She couldn't make out the color of his eyes because of the dark sunglasses obstructing them. He had a drink in front of him that was untouched; the condensation dripping down the side of the glass.

"My name is Raven Vashti," she said.

"Vashti as in the deposed queen in the book of Esther?" he said. His voice was deep and raspy-sounding with a bit of an American twang. A smoker, perhaps?

Raven smiled and nodded. "That's the one. "My mother..." she paused, bit her lip, then continued. "My mother gave me the name because she loved the fact that the queen defied the drunken king when he wanted to show her off her beauty to his guests. She imagined the queen flipping him off as she walked out the palace with her head held high when he deposed her."

The mysterious man grinned. Raven couldn't help but notice that he had crooked teeth and didn't seem bothered by it. She'd been on dates with a few guys who wore porcelain veneers for cosmetic reasons. It was nice to meet someone who didn't seem to care about their appearance. That and his mystery vibe made him even more attractive.

"And your name is?" she inquired.

He didn't offer one.

On second thought, the attitude is unattractive.

She reached inside her purse. "I hope that you can help me with something." She pulled out the letter. "To make a long story short, I found this." She held up the letter.

He sucked in a breath and started coughing violently to where Raven feared that he would cough up a lung. "Are you all right?" she said.

Recovering from his coughing fit, he nodded.

"I hoped that maybe you know his relative. I'd like to return this to them," she said.

He shook his head. "I can't help you," he said. "But," she started.

"I can't help you," he repeated, his tone dismissive; ending the conversation. The hint taken, Raven stood up. "Thank you for your time."

Turning her heel, she returned to her table. The waiter brought over her drink in a copper cup. "Are you ready to order?" he said. "No. This is fine," Raven said. "I'll bring your check," the waiter said.

She picked up the drink and downed it one gulp.

She heard the mysterious man bark something in Italian to the waiter, his voice angry. The waiter said something back and stalked away.

Suddenly, Raven felt hot and woozy. The room spun. She stood up and stumbled. I need air. The chandeliers appeared in sets of two. She had double vision. She reached out in front of her. I need air.

The way to the exit seemed long and continuous--like a moving walkway at the airports. She dragged her feet in front of her, the surrounding conversations loud like cymbals in her ears.

She pulled and then pushed the door open. Out in the night air, she took in a big gulp of it. Her legs felt rubbery. The sidewalk came closing in as she fell when a pair of strong arms caught her by the waist. "Where are you staying?" the deep voice said.

Was it the mystery man? She wasn't sure. "Al Ponte del Papa," she mumbled. She looked up, her vision fuzzy, to a pair of chestnut eyes with long lashes staring back at her. "Okay," he said. "Just hold on tight to me."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face into the soft texture of his coat.

She felt weightless--airborne--as a gentle breeze lifted her hair, its strands caressing her bare shoulders.

Suddenly, the wind ceased. Still clinging to him, she stepped back bashfully. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. She was on the sun terrace of the B&B. The healthy and blooming flowers and vines had shriveled and decayed. "How did I-"

"We need to get you inside," he said, glancing at her hand. She followed his gaze to her hand, grasping the keycard. "I-I'm sorry. I'm confused," she said.

"Someone drugged you," he said matter-of-factly.

Disturbed by the admission, she said, "Okay."

Faltering a bit, she opened the door on the first try. She reached for him.

He wouldn't budge; his face petrified. "What's wrong?" she said.

He kept mum.

Impatiently, she grabbed his arm for support, still feeling the effects of the drug. They both stumbled inside.

Helping Raven sit on the edge of the bed, the mystery man grabbed a bottle of water by the tea and coffee and twisted off the lid; a bit of water squirting out. "Here. Drink this," he said. She took a sip. The liquid dribbled down her chin. "Easy," he said.

Once empty, he took the bottle from her hand and helped her lay down. "Thanks," she said. "If I knew your name, I would address you properly." "I'm a friend," the man said. "Okay," Raven smiled. "Thank you. Friend."

Trying to stay alert but losing the battle, she blinked once or twice before falling into unconsciousness. Listening to her steady breathing, the man ran his fingers through his hair; the curls bouncing back in place in waves and spirals. He couldn't leave her alone. Not in that state.

He removed his coat, revealing a black dress shirt underneath it, and sat cross-leg on the sofa. The television, showing a random movie, held no interest to him.

He stood up and trekked quietly across the floor to where her purse had fallen during all the commotion.

He removed the letter from the purse, carefully.

Returning to the sofa, he inhaled deeply. His hands trembling, he took the letter from out the envelope. His eyes regarding each word, his face twisted in anguish.