Sincerely Angelica

Chapter 11 - Stay Sharp

Chapter 11

"Mail." 

A small package fell on my lap as my father flung it to me. Jumping up from the couch, I went straight to the kitchen for a knife to open the taped package.

"What is it?" Angelica asked, curious. I ripped open the box.

Taking out a dusty, sooted diary, I smiled. "Desmond." I flipped through various pages--Desmond and I had already written quite a few entries--until I found the most recent page.

"You know, Ms. Jimenez will find it strange to find that Desmond and I have been communicating via diary after all this time." Angelica said. "She's collecting all documents at the end, you know."

I shrugged. "I'll just rip the pages out, from Desmond I mean. You don't think I'll let some old bat read my diary in whole, do you?"

"And I suppose you think the same about me, do you?" 

Angelica was never at liberty to have my diary, and I could tell she was deeply distraught by it. At most I would give her a short glance at Desmond and I's conversations, but it was my diary, and I had written things about her--never explicitly stating her name of course--that I would never give her the chance to read. I knew how she was. She'd lock herself in a bathroom and wouldn't come out until she read every detail. 

"What's the problem? I'm going to give them to you in the end either way!" I exclaimed.

"Whatever. I'm just saying, don't get too attached to those letters." She sighed, turning her attention back to Black Mirror on my television. I shrugged once more. 

She was onto something. I didn't really fancy the idea of ripping out all of Desmond's entries from my diary, frankly because our conversations were pretty memorable. I knew, though, that eventually this little project would soon be over, and I'd have to turn in every page, every sentence, every word to Angelica in about two to three months time. 

Dear Angelica, 

I've always wanted to be a doctor. I have the brains, believe me, I just don't show it. 

I lost my self sometime in high school. I hung out with the wrong people, I had a poor sense of judgement. And as my morals fell, so did my grades. It took a beating from my father to set me straight, and I know that sounds rough and abusive, but it was just what I needed. So, I decided to join the military to set my self even straighter. I figured after my service, I would have the discipline to become something greater, like a doctor, or a vet. But I don't think I'll ever end up a doctor. I think I'll end up dying by one.

You seem like a diligent writer, you know that? You don't run into those very often. You can tell a lot about a person through their writing, too, and based one what I've read so far, you're diligent, thoughtful, caring, smart (Beautiful? Let's find out) and, oh...a WORRIER. I know right about now you'll be working on your applications, freaking out...but I have faith you'll be accepted in a lot of places. I know you'll get into the college of your dreams, and you'll get better at math and science, and get a degree, and you meet the love of your life, and have little babies...things that I probably won't get to do. 

That's a lot coming from a stranger, but I sincerely mean it. I've only known you through mere paper, but you seem like a genuinely good soul. Keep it that way. Don't let anybody get in the way of what you want.

"What's he saying?" Angelica piped up, who I found to be looking over at me intently. 

"Not much." I lied. 

So you're thinking of applying to USC? University of Spoiled Children? How dare you! You're talking to a product of two Bruins right here. Do you dare insult the integrity of my family blood line? You disgust me...I honestly think if I hadn't screwed myself over I'd be a Bruin right about now. Maybe even be in their pre-med program. I'd be a pretty badass doctor. Take my word for it.

I know this sounds weird to say, but you don't seem as much of a stranger as you were before. It seems you are my only connection to life back home. I know a lot of things about you, too. It's like we're besties. Tell your other bestie to watch it and tread carefully!

"What about now?" Angelica pressed. 

"Well, If you'd let me finish..." I said irritably.

 I'm really sorry that I don't have a full and accurate response to you on your hopes and dreams (It's been a little hectic here lately) but I'm having a hard time finding stuff to write to you about. There's so much action over here that I just can't decide. Shall it be about Tilly the goat going in heat? Or the crappy Pinto beans they serve for lunch? I'll keep you in suspense.

In the mean time, stay sharp, Angelica.

Love Desmond

P.S: My favorite color is also blue. Crystal blue, like my eyes ;)

P.P.S: I'd really like to know who I'm talking to.

In the next series of pages, was a small, wallet sized photo wedged inside the diary. Carefully, I took a look, making sure Angelica wasn't to notice the photo or my suddenly peaked interest. 

Five men and women posed for a group shot, everyone displaying bright, rebellious smiles. My eyes scanned tirelessly from face to face. I had no Idea who I was looking for. On the back was a loosely scribbled print, "who am I?"

I smiled to myself. Any of these men could be Desmond, and it was my job to find out who he was. 

There was one dark skinned guy with the brightest set of teeth I had ever seen. My cheeks reddened at the thought of this hercules being my pen pal. Another was frail, shorter than the rest, and was characteristically paler than his all his peers. But there was one guy, at the very far left, his hair cropped just like the rest. His eyes were light, hard to tell from the low quality photo, but his smile was a beacon to my eyes. It was almost stretched and artificial. Was it possible that I was looking at the Desmond Williams?

The thought of it sent more warmth rushing to my face. Before, a connection was almost non existent, but now, this whole thing was starting to mean something else. What that else was, I was just beginning to figure out. 

Maybe I was over analyzing things; the smile, the eyes, the body language...but as much as I tried not to, I found myself staring at this particular guy endlessly, breaking down every possible detail that may indicate exactly who this guy was.

I'd really like to know who I'm talking to.

That would make two of us, I thought. 

My eyes eventually lingered on the name, 'Angelica'. 

Oh, How much I longed for him to stop writing her name. He didn't know how those last few letters bothered me, how much envy and resentment they stirred inside of me. He had no idea, but to me, they made all the difference in the world. 

With the most caution I could muster, I made sure Angelica was too busy scrolling through her phone to notice me stuffing Desmond's photo in my pocket.