Page 5 of Loved By the Gargoyle

My fingers slid against the rough strings of my violin. With closed eyes, my bow moved with careful precision and music emanated from my instrument. My body was in tune to it, but my thoughts and my heart kept going back to X and the latest letter I received so soon after sending my own.

Something felt different about this particular letter. In our back and forth, there was always an eagerness that we each held to get to know one another. But this time there was more than that. A longing. A yearning. I felt it through the ink, so much that I had to pause reading and sit back, assess the letter again, and now… I was pouring my feelings into the music. As if that could clear my head from the confusion.

But was it confusion or clarity I was feeling?

Because my heart was tugging me towards that letter, pushing me towards what I knew I wanted.

The bow scraped against the violin, creating a screeching, halting sound that made me wince. With a sigh, I gently placed my instrument back in its case. It seemed that composing was going to have to wait for a bit.

Trudging through crumpled sheet music I’d carelessly tossed to the floor, I slid into my chair and picked up X’s letter once again, my eyes quickly scanning words though I had no need for it when I’d already had them memorized.

Maybe I was crazy for what I was about to do, for what I was thinking, but I didn’t care. There alone in my little apartment, far away from my family, I felt the crushing weight of loneliness. It gripped me, almost suffocating in its embrace. There were so many people around me. Living, breathing, walking, but still somehow I felt so alone.

After weeks of getting to know X, that loneliness had started to feel less and less, but these letters? They weren’t enough.

I wanted more.

I wanted to see the smile behind the words on the page. The serious brow I imagined on the person as he penned this letter to me, a complete stranger on the other side of a door.

So I picked up my pen… and I began to write.

X,

I want to meet. In person. Can we? Name a time and a place.

With love,

M.

I kept it short and quick, eager for his response. I didn’t want to think that I was making some sort of penpal faux pas, but even if I was, I didn’t care. I wasn’t imagining the care he took with his words. If he didn’t like me, at least a little, he would have stopped responding long ago. At this point, I didn’t care that I hadn’t seen him in person. I didn’t know what he looked like, but that was fine. I knew him down to his core.

And I liked him.

I could only imagine what my ma and aunties would think if they knew what I was doing. They’d berate me, surely, but I could also hear the never-ending inquiries that never failed every time I went home to visit.

“Why haven’t you found yourself a husband?”

“When will you get married?”

“You need a husband so that you don’t get lonely…”

That word again.

It made my chest pinch.

I led a fulfilling life, with a career in composing music that I was incredibly proud of. But I did miss something I had only ever longed for through music.

And it was time I crawled out of the shell I’d built for myself and found it.

Sucking in a deep breath, I stormed over to my front door, careful to place the letter where I always did just before I slipped back inside.

This time, I refused to fall asleep when he arrived to take it. This time, I would force myself to wait…

I wasn’t sure if I’d open the door, if I wanted to take the choice away from him to be seen or not. It would feel like a violation to do that, but I wanted to be there when he picked up the note.

And then, he could tell me if he wanted to meet. To maybe… see where this could go? Explore ourselves beyond the written word… I just wanted to see if we were compatible in person the way we were on page.

So I sat, fiddling with my fingers, and I waited for night to fall. For the lights in the hallway to go on. For the shadows to finally appear…