Love and Letters Dina David s Story

I can't believe what I'm seeing right now. A couple on the street is sharing a passionate kiss under the rain. I look around, considering the possibility of a film crew somewhere. It's so movie-like that I can almost hear a cheesy soundtrack playing in the background. Followed by a roll of the credits as the couple's picture pans out, of course—a happily ever after and the biggest lie ever told. In real life, they get separated after a year, or maybe they wake up the next day and it's over, just like that. Nothing lasts forever, that’s what my parents taught me.

I cringe as the make-out session gets intense. What the hell is wrong with these people? Looking for a distraction that doesn't make me want to gag, I head toward the 7/11 just across from me. The road is getting slippery from the weather so I struggle to keep my balance. The last thing I need is a sore butt from falling into the pavement. I have work to do, after all.

I slow down a bit as I hear footsteps behind me, looking up as the person passes me by. I frown at what I see. Asian, with a beautiful face, flawless skin, and an outfit that can probably buy an entire country. He looks exactly like the type who has had it easy his whole life. I already hate his guts.

The guy doesn't bat an eye as he notices me staring at him, which means he's probably used to it, too. He does give me a nod and opens the door for me, though, so I'd give him that.

Inside the store, a bored-looking cashier is inspecting a hangnail. She straightens as she catches sight of the guy and I try not to roll my eyes. Of course, she'd be interested in him. Mr. Cool (this is what we're calling the guy now) just nods at her non-committally, heading straight into the freezer. I smirk at his reaction. Most guys usually just go for it—especially if the girl's attractive. This guy must really think highly of himself.

"There's a bar across the street, and you're picking drinks at the 7/11?" I say, slowly approaching Mr. Cool. His head is bent, deep in contemplation about his drink choices. For a second, I think I hear him let out an annoyed sigh.

"I don't drink. I'm still a minor," Mr. Cool replies after a while, not even turning his attention away from the freezer. Rude. I hang around him, suddenly unsure of myself. He obviously didn't want the company. Come to think of it, I'm not the kind to strike up a conversation with a stranger in the middle of the night either. I know full well how dangerous this area is after dark. I guess it figures that the one time I try to entertain my friendlier side, I do it in front of Mr. Cool.

I narrow my eyes at him as he continues to choose his drink carefully. He must have noticed me staring daggers at him, but he continues pretending to be the only person in the room. Picking up a set of chips on one of the shelves, Mr. Cool pats the back pocket of his jeans. The sight of his wallet makes me remember something I was meant to do. Slowly, a smile creeps up my face.

"Oooh...orange juice," I drawl, pretending to reach over him for a can. He finally turns his attention to me, clearly annoyed now. But before he can say anything, l snatch up the wallet from his back pocket.

"Hey!'' he shouts after me as I swiftly exit the store, splashing my way across the street. I don't pause to look back, maneuvering the puddles in front of me and praying to the gods that I don't slip. I hear Mr. Cool's footsteps and loud cursing behind me. I snicker. Good luck to him. I've never been caught in a chase before.

I keep running, my ears working double-time to hear any signs of him catching up to me. I round into a dark alley, hoping that would discourage him from picking up his pace. But he keeps giving chase, so I run even faster. It takes a long while before I’m certain that I'm out of the woods, and I stop to catch my breath.

"Aah!! You scared the shit out of me!' I scream. My hand flies toward my chest as my best friend Maisie suddenly appears in front of me. Scoffing, she has her hands on her hips, looking at me reproachfully. I look down at her feet. Gone were the usual five-inch heels that she wears. This means that she wore flat shoes just so she can sneak up on me. This is serious. Real serious.

I step back, holding both my hands up in surrender.

"Last one. I swear it. That guy just pissed me off. He's just...so detached? Collected? You know, like he’s God’s gift to humanity. It just... annoyed me." I tell Maisie.

She looks at me like I've gone crazy. "Are you insane? What kind of an excuse is that for robbing someone?"

"Um…didn't you ever get bothered by someone because they look so cool and suddenly felt the urge to steal from them?" I ask her cheekily, despite knowing full well that I'm not going to get away with it.

"No, Dina Marie. Get your brain fixed." Maisie says, pulling her hair in frustration. "You promised me you would change," She adds, looking so mournful it almost breaks my heart.

"Sorry, Maze," I say, knowing she knows what I'm apologizing for. That's how it's always been for us. We can tell each other stories with just one look. I guess that happens when you only have one friend your entire life. The bond has no choice but to get deeper and deeper. It’s just sad that no matter what she says, I won't be stopping my late-night excursions soon.

I hate disappointing her. I really do. But I have a goal and time is running out. I can't welcome distractions now, not even from Maisie.

We stare at each other for a while, her dismay getting more palpable as it becomes evident that I won't tell her anything. "Call me after three days," she tells me before finally walking away.

I almost call her back to say that we should walk home together. But she would probably insist that she can take care of herself and throw me an even more annoyed look. I don't want her to be mad at me for more than three days.

I sigh, sliding into the dirty ground. Trying not to think about the fact that I just drove my only friend away, I look at the wallet in my hand. For reasons that I cannot tell Maisie, I need money. And Mr. Cool should have it tucked inside this Prada wallet. Holding my breath excitedly, I pull it open.

"What?" I utter in disgust, closing the thing with a snap. Who puts only fifty bucks inside a Prada leather wallet? I open it again and rummage some more. There are a couple of receipts for car maintenance transactions and several debit and credit cards inside, but no more cash.

"Of course. Mr. Cool uses cards. God damn it." I realize in irritation. And if he's smart, and I feel he is, he's probably already called to cancel all these cards. I flip the wallet in my hand, not knowing what to do with it anymore.

Giving it another chance, I look at it again. On the front is a photo of Mr. Cool as a kid, his parents on either side of him. It's your classic picture of a happy family. I frown at it, trying to remember if my parents and I have ever posed for a photo like this, but the memory does not come to mind.

As if by instinct, I slip my fingers behind the image and feel something shift. I pull it out curiously. It's a folded piece of paper. I open it and my eyes bug out at the words written there.