October 10, 1989

My Love,

I am truly sorry that I was so abrupt but I had two midterms and my patience was very short.

So much has happened gosh were do I begin?  Hell, right now I am in my art history class. Yes, I’ve picked up a new minor, Art!  I hate this class though.  The teacher is an idiot and this is my worse class. Yuck.

Boy wise, well now that’s a good one.  I some how have picked up P.  I really don’t know how.  Last semester he was dating this really pretty girl.  He was great and funny so I thought gosh just one night.  Like with D.  Well, he broke up with W. and he came over one night, I don’t even know why, I guess to see S and M and then he kissed me and stayed the night on my couch.  The point is, it was okay.  He is a nice guy but that is where it ends. He comes over last Saturday and I was pretty buzzed and we are first goofing around and stuff.  You know how I get when I am buzzed.  Anyway he tells me that his sister’s apartment is empty.  Yeah, thanks, for telling me, what do I care?  Anyway, he rides me around on his motorcycle which is awesome, and I tell him.  Get this, I tell him that I am not ready to sleep with him.  He tells me he has never asked me to sleep with him. Ha, yeah, that’s why you have been pressuring me.  Can you believe it?  Anyway, he is coming over next Wednesday.  I forgot to tell him I have class until 10:00 pm, so I probably won’t see him.

Gosh, I just got back my art test, I won’t tell the score for fear this manuscript falls into enemy hands so let’s just say I need to study for the next one.

But P. isn’t my only man problem.  G. is killing me. I thought he liked me.  Now I know it isn’t true.  He is, first, a big flirt. But now I think I like him. Whenever I am at a party I basically throw myself at him.  Which is so typical of me.  But last party J. was getting pretty friendly.  Of course, what I should realize is that he was drunk and had beer goggles.

I have been dreaming about S. dreaming that I am without him.  I think I have reached that period where a boyfriend doesn’t sound so bad.  Do you remember last time I felt like this?  An awesome night on a veranda with a full moon.  The night was warm and breezy, goosebumps crawling up my arms thinking about you.  I was 13 years old and I was wishing that you really existed.  I was afraid I would never find a boy.  Seven years doesn’t even seem that long ago.

C. and I, well we are okay but she does get on my nerves.  I don’t understand why I always hang-out with the same people.  Although, I have noticed that all my new friends are nothing like L. or C. which is good.

Nostradamus has predicted a third world war that will last for twenty-seven years starting in the years 1993-1997.  I don’t believe it.  Well, my logical mind doesn’t but thinking about such horrors makes me happy for the way that I live now. It also really makes me want to live in the past.  No excitement, nothing I don’t know about, no smog, or destruction, no depletion of ozone, no extinction of wild life.

I am not excited about the future.  I am excited over the prospect of my children.

I also had another dream that I left school to have a baby, God forbid.  I realize I am so unable to care for a child right now.  I want to travel.

Fare thee Well,

Title?

In the year of our Lord, fourteen hundred and ninety-two, Columbus set sail searching for a quicker route to India.  That same year the Lady Alexander Whesly was born in England.  her father, the Duke of Freemont, was devastated.  First, because his beloved wife of five years had died giving birth and second the boy he had so wished for had been born a girl.

He had decided to give the babe to his sister, who had married beneath her status.  But with one look at the baby with beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair as soft as corn silk, he could not part with her.  She looked too much like his beloved Alania.  So, he left the boisterous city of London to raise his daughter quietly and peacefully in the country.

Alexandra was not raised like any other girl of her status.  She could ride a horse by the time she was five, could shoot a bow and arrow by seven, learned to falcon at eight, and fence by ten.  Often times the work hands would see the young lady with her long braids flying in the wind practicing her fencing while her old father would watch shouting instructions.  After every practice, the reward was always a kiss and a hug.  His gray beard always tickled her rosy cheeks.

But of course, not all good things will last.  The small castle of Freemont was attached by northern raiders who wanted more land to make a bigger empire.  After twelve hours in the wine cellar, Alex came out to find only death.  She found her father lying next to his chair in the dining hall.  Sobbing Alexandra saw there was no hope for her father.

“Don’t cry for me Alex”, he said hoarsely.  Lord Whesly began coughing.  When he was done a fine line of blood ran down his stubbled chin.  “I fought bravely as any soldier would, at last”, he took a long breath that seemed to turn into a wheeze.  “At last, I will see her again.”  He looked closely at Alexandra and fiercely muttered “You are on your own now.  Remember, remember to keep the lads checked,” she laughed at the old hunting adage while tears streamed down her face.

“I will father.  I will”

“Never forget Alex.  You, are a Whesly”, and the Duke of Freemont died in her arms, and so the real story begins…

One month later, at sea, the old wooden ship creaked and groaned with every wave that hit it.  The strong wind blew the white sails full, making it look like a bright pillow against the black night.  On board, the weary crew fought the raging storm with every ounce of strength.

“Batten down the hatches” yelled the tall sea captain against the wind.

“Aye captain”, screamed the scrawny thirteen-year-old cabin boy.  After doing his job the boy fought his way towards the towering figure.  “How much longer sir?”

“I don’t know Alex” he sounded sad and dejected.  “I’ve been at sea all my life and this is the worst storm I’ve ever seen.”  The sea captain shivered into his coat as he seemed to look inward to something only he could see.

“Well sir, I have the utmost faith in you,” he said sincerely, shouting as loudly as he could into the wind.

At that moment, the ship dropped twenty feet and as the frigate met the water a large crack could be heard.  The ship gave way to the wind, rain, and sea.  After ten years of service, the vessel was no more.  Men and lumber were tossed by the sea like pebbles of sand.

Young Alex clung to the main mast fighting for her every breath.  She wondered what her mother had been thinking so near to the end of her life.  Did she know she was going to die? Alex asked herself.  Were her father and mother reunited?  She hoped so.  She gave a small prayer to them, wherever they were.  She hoped to be spared.  After all, she felt she had much more living to do.  She desperately hoped that she could hold onto the massive piece of wood and that she would be saved.  As the waves battered her back and forth in the inky blackness she began to grow tired.  She feared she had reached the end when she began to no longer care if she held on or not.

After what seemed several hours Alex was washed up on shore, unconscious. She awoke a bit later to the cry of a seagull and the warmth of the sun on her face.  She felt sticky from the salt water and sand.  She was badly bruised and battered.  Slowly, ever slowly, Alex moved from a prone position to a kneeling position to a standing position.  She thanked God and her parents for her life.  Then she looked up into a bright blue sky. Not a cloud could be seen.  As she looked out into the glassy water she could not quite see where the ocean and the sky met.  They both looked the same.

The laughter bubbled up from Alex’s chest and startled her.  She was alive! She was alive and looking at probably one of the most beautiful scenes ever placed before her.  She moved her wet short hair away from her face.  As she looked at her ripped boy clothes she could see ugly bruises all over her body.  On hindsight, pretending to be a boy and traveling by ship may not have been the best idea.  The work had been ridiculously hard, the food terrible, and the other sailors, in a  word, were disgusting.

Alex continued to laugh.  This time she took a deep breath to embrace the laugh so that it could come from deep in her chest.  She laughed so hard, her sides ached.  She laughed so hard, her eyes began to cry uncontrollably.  She laughed until it hurt and still she laughed and cried.  And still, she laughed on.

December 6, 1988

My Dearest,

“Teddy Boy-Grandma’s joy”.  I wanted to write that down so I wouldn’t forget it.  And for the millionth time I am wishing for something that is just beyond my grasp.  But I will try to change that.  Nothing is happening at all.  I have been painting, never leaving the house.  It is not good and I feel kind of sick.  Tomorrow, I think, I will go to the beach and maybe take some pictures.  Right now school sounds good.  Good friends and a busy schedule.  Come home to good music, a full stomach,  painting, and homework.  I sound very mature but that can not be helped.  I can see it now, a yuppie attitude in a freshman college student and why not?  Get up at six am, go to class at eight.  Get off at around five pm.  Eat dinner than drink my milk-juice-whatever.  Listen to music, do homework, paint, read a book, and go to bed.  Does it sound dull?  Don’t worry, I will spice up my weekends.  My new image is Laura Holt.  You know T.V. was always my escape.  I still enjoy looking at it as much as reading.

She hadn’t seen him in years and even now she didn’t know if it was a good idea to acknowledge that he was there.  “How have you been?”, he asked.  “Fine” she had said hurriedly.  Oh, how she had loved him.  It had been no silly fling for her. She wished he would go so that she could cry and then try to forget him. She knew she would fail in that regard, yet again.

Does that sound depressing?  I think I will make a day out of the beach tomorrow.  You know, pack a lunch, the whole ten yards, as they say.  I will get all dressed up.  I will be in true Laura Holt fashion.  Bring my camera and write you a letter.  I will write something to warm your cold nights without me.

“Ahh, dabbling in mystery yet again, when will I ever learn, Mr. Steele?”
“Perhaps never, Ms. Holt”
“Let’s hope so, Mr. Steele”
“Dinner and a movie?”
“Why not?” she said as Remington Steele handed her a glass of Champagne.
“Cheers,” he said seductively, as he leaned into Laura Holt.  She simply smiled and patiently waited…

And so do I, as I bid you a farewell,

December 26, 1987

My Love,

Tonight is Footloose, it is a really good movie. I used to pretend I was the girl.  She is way too skinny but that is okay.  I love her red cowboy boots, though.  I am really tired I have been shopping all day looking for a bomber jacket, too expensive.  I will just have to keep looking.  Well, aren’t I just full of talk, I can’t think of anything else to say…oh wait, yes, I can.

I feel bad because I can’t take risks.

I am afraid of elevators, I am afraid of everything I am afraid of getting caught.  People give me a lot of trouble because of it but what am I supposed to do?  It is not as bad as it used to be.  L. has a lot of nerve sometimes.  She really makes me mad.  She is another person that I can’t hang around with full time.  She has been my best friend off and on since freshman year of high school.  God, we have had some problems.  She drives me nuts.  When I had a journal before I always wrote stories now I hardly ever do.  Well, maybe later.

Yours Truly,