Fade Into You: Chapter 2

It had been two weeks and I wondered how many people may have called mental facilities as they watched me practically molest that damn chair every single day.

Every last day. Sometimes twice.

That girl had completely taken over my mind without the slightest bit of knowledge of having done so. I kept the letter on me, and read it at least once a day. I'm guessing I envisioned some sort of magical powers to take over, letting me into her mind if I read it enough. What a joke.

So, everyday, I went back to the Starbucks and checked that chair. Everyday, my letter was still there. Yesterday, it was gone. A million different scenarios ran through my head. Did she come for it? Was I about to be stalked by some psychotic chick with a penchant for sex and violence? Kinky. Had they simply found it whilst cleaning the chair? Not likely. The employees here were entirely too lazy for that. They did enough to keep their jobs. Nothing more, nothing less.

I found myself wondering if every single person was her. Not that girl, much too confident. That woman over there wouldn't roll her eyes about her own sarcasm and then write about said movement. How about that girl? No, that girl over there was too…oh my God, was that even a she?

Moving on. So, two weeks and the letter had finally disappeared. It had been a day now, and no calls or texts. No e-mails either. So that left out the psycho stalker woman. Thankfully.

I paid for my drink and plopped myself down in the same chair. Yeah, I sat here every time. I was like a man possessed. Last week, I had to tell a young man that I once saw someone piss in that chair. Man did her ever move. Should have seen his face when I sat my ass down in that very same seat.

I digress. Where was I again? Oh right. The chair.

Well, I had sat in it, gripping my coffee like it was the last best hope for mankind, and it was keeping me sane. It was obviously not doing its job well as I had clearly lost my mind somewhere along the way. Possibly my last shred of sanity as well.

I dug my hand first into the left side where I had left my letter, and came up empty. Switching the coffee between my hands, I delved into the right side, coming across the unmistakable feel of paper. I nearly jumped for joy right there. See what I mean? Sanity gone.

It was only as I was pulling it out that the fear and trepidation hit me. What would I find? If she had given up, I think it possible that I may have eaten my own soul. Would she be as intrigued as I was?

Sept 13, 2008


Dear You,


I've decided we should date these letters so that we know when they were written, etc. The first one was written on August 20th. Three and a half weeks ago.


Today is my birthday, so that makes me now 23. I don't really have anything here in Seattle to do for it, so I came by here to drop this letter off instead.


My father was the chief of police in the small town I grew up in. So even if I did have friends, there wouldn't have been much to tell. Birthdays have never been interesting to me. I think they kind of offend me. Ya know, like they kind of scream 'Hey you're invisible! Happy freaking Birthday by yourself'


Now I'm just being a downer.


Speaking of birthdays though, that POS truck was a birthday gift from my parents. Maybe that's why I can't really bear to part with it. I promise to have it looked at. For some unfathomable reason you care about it, or me, or whatever.


I know I made it sound before like I had no friends and that's not entirely true. I've had acquaintances. I have a couple of friends. Make that one friend and his very bitchy sister. We tolerate each other, at best. I annoy her, and she's just a giant bitch. Her brother is my best friend in the entire world though. The only person I've kept in touch with since school. Or ever for that matter.


It always floors me when people have had friends since grade school, or even middle school. I'm pretty sure I'm just a forgettable person, to be honest.


Anyways, today's letter is not going to be a long one.


You're beautiful, by the way. At least I assume it was you. Two weeks ago, I saw you through the window of the shop with my letter open in front of you and a notebook open on your lap. I've been trying to muster up the courage to come back and check our makeshift mailbox. A couple of times, I did come back, but you were there just sitting in the chair.


Please don't be angry at me. I know I should have written sooner, but I only found the nerve yesterday to go in and get it. I had tried nearly everyday for two weeks.


I've never seen someone with your hair color before. Its copper or bronze…like a penny. But it's amazingly beautiful. And your eyes, well they're the most gorgeous part of you.


I hope this won't stop you from writing back


Sincerely, B


P.S. I'm not so sure about the texting thing. I think I had a mild panic attack when I had seen that you left your phone number. You're so trusting.

Holy mother of God. So she had seen me writing her letter. I felt anger boil up inside me for a few seconds. She now new my name, my phone number, my e-mail address and what I looked like. I had nothing on her. Nothing.

It dissipated quickly however when I thought of her sadness. Her fear that I would be angry with her. How hard it had been for her to come back and get that letter. And she'd called me beautiful. I wanted to be offended, as boys are not 'beautiful', but I think I understood.

I was now also worried that she'd be intimidated by me as she saw me as a beautiful person, when she didn't see herself as one. I wanted to know. I wanted to see her. I felt a need to reassure her that she was in fact somebody and not invisible.

My brother thought I was insane. I told him about our first exchange of sorts and he guffawed loudly in his huge booming voice and called me a pansy. True Emmett fashion that was.

So here we were. She had described my hair perfectly, so it had definitely been me she had seen. I felt the anger fade away as more understanding took its place.

She was scared. She felt as though I was a better person than herself. I immediately resented my own anger. I was such a stupid shit.

The ringing of my phone brought me out of my trance and I sucked in a breath wondering whether or not it could be her. That girl. The girl that now resided in a small part of my brain that never turned itself off. I looked down at the caller ID and groaned.

"Emmett, what's up?"

"Are you at that coffee shop again Edward?"

"What? I mean, well I am, but she-"

"Ed dude, really? Come on now. Don't you find this situation a little…odd?"

"But she left-"

"Dude, I can't believe you're making yourself spazz over this shit! She could be a dog for all you know. She could be a goddamn whale. What if for fun she runs around clubbing baby seals or some shit? I still can't believe you gave out your number like that. "

Once again, in true Emmett fashion, here he was telling me exactly what he thought about my own goddamned decisions. Like I was a child or something. He was only two years older than me. He wasn't even this bad with our younger sister Alice, and she was five years his junior.

"Listen, Em. It's fine, alright? She-"

"Not to mention the fact that she could be some deranged psycho stalker with a-"

"ENOUGH Emmett," I practically screamed into the receiver. "Will you quit interrupting me and shut the fuck up already? For the love of God, man! Let me get a word in here."

The line was suddenly silent and I heard the idiot chuckle quietly on the other end.

"What now?" I asked him, annoyed.

"You really don't care about any of that shit, do you?"

As I thought about it, I realized he was right. It didn't matter. She needed help, and I needed a way to get through to her.

"She left another letter." I finally said to him.

Silence.

"She's seen me, she knows who I am."

Silence.

"I think I scare the shit out of her."

Laughter.

Okay, What the hell?

"Dude! You think you're scary? Well hell! That might be the funniest fucking thing I've heard all week!" he choked out between his laughs.

"Shut up, Emmett. I intimidate her. It's not funny. It's quite clear that she's scared shitless of things but she needs help."

"What the hell are you gonna do, bro?"

Million dollar question, right there. What the hell was I going to do?

"Write another letter, I guess."

"Right. Anyways, the real reason I called. Dinner at Carlisle and Esmes this weekend. Don't forget it's his birthday.

"Wow, Em!"

"I know. Look at me remembering the important stuff like a responsible adult or something."

I laughed. He was right. This was not the big brother I knew and loved. He didn't remember things. Ever. I think he even forgot his own birthday one year. The mention of my uncles birthday reminded me once again of the mystery girl.

"Ya," I told him quietly, distracted by my thoughts."I'll be there."

He continued on with some mindless chatter that I couldn't be bothered to listen to. I had a letter to write.

Sept 13, 2008


Dear B,


Can I call you that? You signed your last letter with it, so I just wanted to make sure it was okay.


I don't want you to be afraid of me, alright? At first I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that you had seen me. And yes that was me. You described my weird ass hair as best as it can be described. I know it's an odd color, and a freaking mess, too.


I decided I was okay with it though. I've put myself out there, but you just take your time. That isn't meant to pressure you at all. I actually mean it. Don't do anything that you're not comfortable with. Take. Your. Time.


I'd say Happy Birthday, but I don't really expect that you've actually had one. Instead, I'll just say this. Try and live every day for you. I do hope you had an okay day. I say had, as I assume you won't be reading this today. Don't be sad.


I never assumed that you didn't have any friends at all. That would just be cruel. I hope you now count me among your friends, along with your best friend and his evil bitch of a sister. I'd say I'm sure she isn't that bad, but I trust your judgment. Besides, I have a total douche of a brother, so we're in the same boat.


You never told me if you'd slept, so I assume that was a no. Please try? That's the part that hits me hardest. Judging by the case of nerves you've had, I'm not surprised, though.


I'll keep my letter short as well. Get your truck fixed, get some sleep…and contact me whatever way you see fit. You need to know that to me you are not forgettable. Unforgettable, in fact. Don't ever think that.


I don't know if you have an account, but you can follow me on twitter as well. ea_mc1901 . You wouldn't even have to tell me its you.


Sincerely, Edward.


P.S. Please call me Edward. You addressed your latest letter 'Dear You'. Please, trust me enough to call me by my name.

I sighed aloud and ran my hand over my face and up through my hair after I tucked the letter away in our secret spot. The jingling above the door caught my attention, and I looked towards the sound.

My eyes fell upon brown. Brown eyes, big and frightened. Brown hair, long and wavy. Brown corduroys, too big for the frame they hung from. Brown shoes, on two small feet. Black. The jacket was black,

And suddenly, after someone passed in front of her, as if she had been a mirage, she was gone.