Warning: There is mention of suicide and abortion. Please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable.
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We walked back to the car with the box in my hand. Even though it was a little past noon, I was exhausted and slightly faint from not eating much. Matilde—the woman we talked to—invited us to stay for lunch but we declined, not wanting to bother her. We thanked her for having us and she gave me her number saying I could call her anytime. She said we were welcome to come back and I thought about stopping by one more time before catching the train back to Porto.
"Are you alright?" Florence asked. She stopped walking which caused me to stop. She was on the verge of tears and she hugged me, resting her head on my chest. I hugged her back, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm fine, thank you. I wasn't expecting there to be more letters," I told her. All I wanted to do right now was rip open the letters and read them in private. My curiosity was stronger than my fear.
"Are you gonna read them?" Florence's voice was muffled by my shirt.
"Yeah but not now. Let's get lunch first."
We were in a residential area where there weren't many shops and restaurants around so we drove to the city center. I parked the car and we walked a bit, studying the restaurants, trying to see what we were in the mood for. Florence was in the mood for seafood so we had traditional Portuguese food.
"We can actually see our hotel from here," I said, pointing to our hotel. Florence followed my finger and laughed.
"You're right."
We ate and talked about how nice winter was here. Portugal is laid back which is a nice change of pace and the sun revitalizes you. Meanwhile back home, it was freezing and we barely saw the sun.
"Are you ready to head back to the hotel?" I asked. We normally head back to the hotel for an afternoon siesta.
"Why don't you head back? I'm not that tired and want to have a look around," Florence replied. I stood there dumbfounded. Up until now, we did everything together but now Florence wants to do a bit of exploring on her own.
"I'll come with you," I insisted.
"No! You go on back. I know you're tired."
Some part of me made me think she knew I wanted privacy reading the letters so she was insistent that I go back which I found thoughtful. We exited the restaurant and I kissed her on the cheek wishing her a good time looking around.
When I got back to the hotel, I instantly went to work, opening the box and laying out all the letters. The last letter I read was dated 14 December 2014 so I wondered when these letters were written. One my one, I stuck my finger under the flap and opened each envelope. They were all placed in the order it was written which made things easy. And then I brought out the last letter I received from her but never opened. Funnily enough, this letter didn't have a date written at the top so I looked at the postmark which has the date it was received by the Postal Service. 8 October 2015.
That's odd, I thought to myself. Why was this letter received after she passed away? The flyer said she was last seen 6 January 2015. Her body was found a few days later on 9 January. Why did I never question the date this letter turned up? So of all the letters I have in front of me, this one from 8 October 2015 is the last one I received from her.
Maybe I'm thinking too much. It's possible her parents found it when packing their things and they wanted me to have it. It doesn't help when I don't have a way to contact them to ask them.
18 December 2014
Dear Van,
Today was one of those days I had to get out of the house. It was drizzly out but I put my rain jacket on. My parents caught me on the way out and asked where I was going. I told them I was headed towards the water. They opened their mouth to protest but I told them I'd be back in an hour. Luckily, they let me go.
The water is a 20 minute walk from my house. I don't mind the walk. Portugal is one of the safest countries to live in. By the time I reached the water, the sun had already set. It was quiet with the occasional other person but I saw something that made me worry. There was a young woman standing on the edge of the cliff.
No one would dare walk that close to the edge, especially if it was raining. One wrong step and you can fall to your death. But there she was, the wind blowing through her hair, and she was shivering, wearing only a T shirt and jeans. I wanted to shout at her but I didn't want to scare her.
Something kicked in. Maybe it was my hormones but I slowly made my way over to her, making sure I was as noisy as possible so she knew someone else was there. She turned around with a frightened look on her face. It only took one look to know that she planned to jump.
Instead of asking what she planned to do, I offered her my jacket because she looked cold. Surprisingly, she stepped away from the edge and wore my jacket. I don't think she expected kindness from a stranger. She was expecting a lecture.
I got a good look at her and she reminded me of myself. There've been many times I've been so unhappy that I thought I was better off dead. But then I think about the baby growing inside me and I can't do it. That's when I realized I wanted to keep the baby.
Love always,
Clara
I leant back in my chair even more confused. She said she couldn't jump because of the baby but did just that. She changed her mind somewhere down the line. I put the letter away and reached for the next one. This letter wasn't as smooth and I wondered if she'd been crying again. When I saw splotches of tears smudging the ink, I got my answer.
25 December 2014
Dear Van,
Today is Christmas Day, one of the happiest days of the year but here I am locked in my room, crying, and writing to you. My parents were in good spirits and I thought maybe, just maybe, they'd be happy to hear I was pregnant so I told them. That was a huge mistake.
They were livid. They've never met Rafael before and instantly told me their nastiest opinion of him saying he was no good for me, how he wasn't going to marry me, and how I was going to raise this baby all on my own. I was shocked at how quick they were to judge him!
Rafael is the sweetest. When I told him I was pregnant, he was elated and told me he couldn't wait to be a dad. He told his parents who both adore me. I get that things moved quickly for us but everything just feels right to me. He does intend to marry me. He's working two jobs to save money for a ring but I'm not bothered by the glamor of marriage. All I want to do is live a quiet life and take care of my family.
My parents want me to get an abortion. As soon as the clinic opens, they're going to call and ask for the first available appointment and I'm terrified. I don't want an abortion but I'm afraid my parents will pressure me to get one.
Finding out I was pregnant was one of the best days of my life and now my life is upside down. I'm starting to wonder if my parents are right and that I've made a mistake wanting this baby. Will he stay with me or will he find someone else and move on? Will I ever be happy? There's so much uncertainty in the future and I just want to get away from it all.
Love always,
Clara
The letters kept getting worse and worse; I remember being happy there were more to read but now I was starting to question whether I could actually handle them. Now I can see why Florence wanted me to read them in private. If I wanted to cry, I was free to do so without anyone watching but I didn't have any tears to cry. I was just upset at how her parents were quick to judge.
But there are always two sides of a story. This was Clara's side and we don't know what her parents were thinking. They love their daughter dearly and only want what's best for her. I'd be shocked too if I found out my daughter was pregnant and I've never met the guy. However, wanting her to have an abortion was going too far and this might've been the reason why she's no longer here.
I could hear footsteps in the hallway and then the sound of Florence sliding in her keycard to unlock the door. She pushed the door open and stuck her head in, taking note that I was sitting at the table with all the letters open.
"How are you doing?" she asked softly, closing the door behind her. She placed the carrier bag on my bed and made her way towards me. You could see she was concerned for my well-being, looking for any clues as to how it went.
"I'm fine," I answered, my voice barely audible. As curious as she was, she knew I'd talk when I was ready so she didn't want to push it.
"Well if you want to talk, just know that I'm here for you." I nodded my head and looked at the carrier bag on my bed.
"What'd you buy?" I asked. Florence grabbed the bag and began pulling the contents out one by one.
"I bought some peri-peri hot sauce!" she exclaimed and I laughed at how—of all the things she could've bought—she bought something she can get in America. "I've never tried it before and once I saw it, I had to buy it. Our dinners will have a bit of a kick to them." I rested my head on my hand, amused.
"And what else? It looks like there's more in the bag," I noted.
"I bought some ceramic dishes." She brought it out and it was wrapped up but there was no mistake hearing the clank of ceramic on ceramic. "The patterns were very beautiful. It's a shame they wrapped it up or else I'd show you. I bought a whole set we could eat on."
It was nice seeing her get all excited. She definitely loves to spend money but it's on practical stuff. And all the things she buys isn't for her but for us which I found endearing. The more time I spent with her, the more I was sure I wanted her to be my girlfriend but the moment didn't feel right.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"What d'you mean?" I asked back.
"You were looking at me all strange. You think I'm crazy, don't you?"
"No, not at all! I was just thinking..." I trailed off as soon as my eyes locked with hers again. There was something about her beauty that made me forget how to talk. "It's—it's nowt." I blushed and turned around to put the letters back.