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“Slide it under the door.” It’s one of the alligators.
“What?” I am really annoyed but out of options. “That would be a grave invasion of privacy. I am not going to share the love letter with the two of you.”
Silence.
“Okay fine, you win! Please get this to Brooke. I am slipping the letter under the door.”
As soon as I place the letter into the opening, it is immediately pulled away as if the door is a vacuum cleaner.
LOVE LETTER
BROOKE
Iam still in my pajamas. Sylvia and Edith have dragged me into the living room. I see the paper he is shoving through the door. Edith grabs it and gives it to me. I am still silent as I read it with Edith and Sylvia peeping over my shoulders.
Dearest Brooke Banner, I have compiled my own little report on you:
Number of times Brooke pressed her thumb against her lower lip - 25.
Number of times Brooke touched her hair in nervousness–18.
Number of times Brooke embarrassed herself by sacrificing for her friends–10.
Number of times Brooke made a bad joke to kill the awkwardness–15.
Number of times Brooke forgave me–10
Number of times Brooke chose self-respect over money–All the time.
Number of times Ethan Knight fell madly in love with Brooke–For exact answer please add lines A through E
Note: I hope it doesn’t remind you of a tax form. It’s a bit mathematical. But those are images that stay in my mind, that make me love you.
“Oh my God, this is so bad!” shouts Sylvia at the door. And with Edith adding “Yeah, this is terrible. Why are you giving us a math quiz?”
I hear his beautiful, apologetic voice, his sweet English accent.
“Ladies, I do wish you could afford us some privacy. I mean that was meant for Brooke. It also saysDearest Brookeright on the top.”
Edith and Sylvia look at me, as I stare at the door, arms folded, my feet nervously moving, my eyes filling up with tears.
“Brooke I just need to see your face. I need to know that you will forgive me. I was wrong to jump to conclusions. I should have heard you explain your side. You don’t have to forgive me today. Like you said once, we can’t schedule our feelings.”
Sylvia and Edith are still defending me. In their own way.
Sylvia shouts back, “You think you can come down here and fly away with Brooke on some Hawaiian magic carpet…”
And they are not making much sense. Okay that’s it!
“Edith, Sylvia, thank you, that will be all.” I gesture that they need to leave us alone. They leave with a quickness that even surprises me, running back to their rooms. Obviously, they want things to work out, but their love for me has them acting silly. Finally, I am alone with the door and the gorgeous, apologetic man behind it.
“Brooke was that you! Thank God! Brooke, I have this letter that I just…”
I open the door and there he is. Dark gray jeans, a blue shirt, quite crumpled, his beautiful hair ruffled, his handsome unshaven face showing signs of little sleep. Tears are streaming down my cheeks; I am in my black silk pajamas and a pink t-shirt. His face lights up, but he restrains himself. “Sorry Brooke, I am very, very …”
I leap up to land my mouth on his lips. His last sorry lands into my mouth. My tears mix with his, and he pulls me so tightly into his warm body, as if he has found me and will never let go. I taste his tears and mine as we speak with our strong kisses.
THE REQUEST
