A faint sound of thunder could be heard while I was walking, making my way to the coffee shop we agreed to meet at. It was already Six Fifteen and we were supposed to meet by Six o’clock. I was running late and I just hope she didn’t arrived there too early.
The coffee shop wasn’t crowded as I thought it would be. Just a couple sitting at the far end of the place and a few groups of people in their corporate outfits. She was sitting near the window, wearing a white long sleeved blouse folded up to her elbow. I touched the envelope folded inside my pocket just to be sure it’s there and I walked to her.
“I’m really sorry. Work just got a little busy.” I said.
“No. It’s fine. I’ve actually just arrived myself.” She replied. We both turned silent. I felt awkward with her but still tried to be friendly. We never really meet or even talk except when K’s with us.
K was a long-time friend of mine. We met when we were still in high school. He’s the type of kid that wouldn’t talk unless you talk to him first. The quiet student who just stays at his sits and read his books. The first time he entered the classroom when he transferred in our school, nobody really cared about him. He didn’t strike anyone about anything in him. He just introduced himself to the class, name, age, address and gave a normal greeting to the class. Your typical transfer student introduction minus the hobbies and everything unnecessary.
He was given the nickname K by the class for the reason that almost all his responses to everyone were just “okay.” I saw him reading To Kill a Mockingbird one day, one of my favourite, and we started talking about Atticus Finch. Even at that age, where talking about the future was awkward, I still told him how I wanted to be just like Atticus. But sadly, I never really pursued law school. Up until we graduated high school and entered college we would still meet somewhere and just talk about things. After a year in college we both had our girlfriends and introduced them. We both had just one girlfriend each but mine didn’t stayed longer than his.
“Do you mind if we sit outside instead? I heard thunders from afar but I don’t think it would rain soon.” I asked her.
“Sure. I don’t mind.”
We went out. The evening breeze was good. Not too humid. Not too cold. We took a vacant table a few feet away from the door. She pulled the chair, sat silently and put her small leather shoulder bag on her lap. I sat across her and think for a few seconds for what to say. Or more precisely, how to tell her a few things.
“So how’s work?” I asked her without much thought.
She rested both her elbows on top of the table, pressing both hands against each other. “Every day’s the same. The usual papers you see in an accounting firm.”
“I honestly have no idea what papers you deal with.” I said.
“Never mind that. It just depresses me more. How about you? Still in that law office?”
“Yeah. Still there but I’m already planning to quit.”
“Planning to study?”
“No. Being a paralegal and working with lawyers made me realize that I’m not really cut for the job.”
The waiter went to us; I ordered a cup of brewed coffee while she had some Latte. Before he left I asked for an ashtray and pulled a pack of red Marlboros from my chest pocket.
“Do you mind if I—“ I said and put two fingers at my lips.
“No. Go ahead.”
I put a cigarette in my lips and lit it up with some cheap lighter I bought in a convenient store the day before.
“So you smoke now?” She asked while watching me exhale poison at my side.
“I was already smoking when we first met in college. K didn’t tell you? Don’t worry, he didn’t smoke.” I said before realizing that I said the wrong words.
She was silent and stared at her fingers. I could hear her whisper, “There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”
Our orders arrived; the waiter placed the cups in front of us and gave a few sachets of sugar. I didn’t touch anything else except for the coffee and ashtray I asked. I sipped on mine while she also did with hers. No one said a word for a few minutes. The ember at the cigarette was almost at its end on the filter, so I crushed it in the ashtray and pulled out another stick.
“I’m sorry.” I told her and started to smoke another cigarette. I knew what she meant. More than anyone else, I should know.
“No. It’s fine. It’s just that—“ She paused for a few seconds. “It still hurts. Everything about him was too sudden. Everything felt like rushing and came all too fast.”
I leaned back on the chair, looked up at the clouded night sky and blew smoke above us. She started a hushed cry. She covered her face with her palms but even with that I could feel her pain seep out between her fingers and join the loneliness of the evening air. I heard another pale clap of thunder far away and started to think about him. Why do you have to leave like this?
“It’s been more than six months.” She looked straight at me and continued, “I tried to stop thinking about him. I don’t want to forget about him but I want to move on. We both know, he won’t be back. You’re the only connection I had with him. Why do we have to meet? Why do you have to do this?”
The ashes on my cigarette were ready to fall. I tap it down on the ashtray and decided to crush the whole thing since it’s just around two centimetres left, more or less. I waited for her to calm down and drank the remaining coffee I had. She stared at the lingering smoke from the crushed cigarette.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you more than you are right now.” I said and pulled out a white envelope holding a letter. “He wanted you to have this.”
I handed her the letter and she took it right away. Her name was written in black ink in front of the envelope in cursive writing, K’s penmanship.
“Where did you get this?” She asked me. Her eyes were still moist from crying.
“A week after his funeral, K’s mother gave me a call.” I told her, trying to recall the events that happened. “They cleaned up his apartment and found a sealed brown envelope in his living room. My name was written so his mother called me and gave it to me. It was still perfectly sealed; I suppose they didn’t try to look into it. The only things inside was two letters both in envelopes, and an old copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.”
She was staring at me, waiting for other things I might tell her. I pressed on, “The envelopes were named for us. Though I’m not really sure if the one you had is also a letter but mine was. A part of it was an instruction: that I give you that envelope Six months after his death.”
“Did he tell you in his letter why he killed himself?” She asked.
“Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything like that or any hint as to why he did that. Yours might have it.”
“I don’t want to open it now. I don’t think I’m ready to read his words. Not yet. Not now.”
“Well, that’s all I’m here for. After this, maybe we won’t see each other again.”
“I hope not.”
I straightened my clothes. Full of crease from the whole day’s labor. “What are you planning from here on?”
“I don’t know. I’ll still go to the office and work. Do every boring stuff I do every day.” She said.
“I wish you a more happy life from here on.”
“Thank you.”
The wind was getting chilly. Perhaps the rain from afar earlier was getting closer. I took another cigarette and lit it up. We sat there for a moment, not speaking a word and just feeling the cold breeze.
She straightened up and wiped her eyes with a white handkerchief then looked at me. “I’ll be going now.”
“Okay.” I said. The word started to unearth memories long gone.
She stood up and said, “Good bye.”
“Good bye” I told her.
“Thank you.” She added. Those were the last words I ever heard from her. I didn’t get to know if the envelope I gave her really had a letter or if it did, I never knew what was written.
It started to rain when I got back to my apartment, lit up another cigarette and looked for K’s letter and the old copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.
The spine of the book was worn out. Probably a result of numerous times of reading. Certain pages were folded and paragraph underlined with black ink. I read the letter again, word by word. The last note in the letter lingered in my mind because I knew I would never be able to do it.
P.S. Quit smoking and live longer. Take care of her for me.