You’d think you would get used to being kicked out of the kitchen whenever Thanksgiving rolled around. “Accalia, come on let me help.”
“You fucking basted the turkey in a mint butter egg wash three years ago. You’re not getting back in here for at least a decade Maria.” My spouse glowered and pointed the knife at my throat.
“Babe, you know I don’t mind sharp things around my throat,” My eyes fixed on the knife. “I'd really rather your fangs be the only thing piercing my throat. Or Sophia's.” I held up my hands and backed away. Who am to argue with my wife?
“You know your blood wouldn’t go to waste with me around, even if Sophia’s away for a bit.” She turned back to the kitchen to roughly chop an onion. “Why don’t you break out that typewriter and write to someone?”
“Oh, like who? I don’t have thralls like you or Sophia do.”
“What about that barista in Cap Hill?”
I bit back a comment. She was nice, but when she found out about my immortality. Well, she didn’t slap me. Just ghosted me. “Yeah, sure.” Still, I vanished into my study with the typewriter. Who knows, maybe inspiration would hit me.
Fifteen minutes later with a blank sheet of paper staring me back, I had nothing. No inspiration, no ridiculous shower thought, not even a haiku. “Oh for fucks sake, why can’t I write?” My head hit the table with a thud. I looked up at the venerable typewriter and saw etched into it’s body.
“To my beloved friend Maria, love Liz.”
It took a moment to ease the tension out of me. Inspiration had found me.
Elizabeth, I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know it’s been more than a decade since we’ve talked.
I stopped. “Do I really want to do this?” My fingers continued.
And I would understand if this is out of the blue and unwelcome but I just hope you’re well.
I stopped again. The thought hung heavy in the air. ‘Should I ask if we should meet?’ I shrugged, and kept typing.
Maybe we should catch up some time, if you want. -Maria.
I locked eyes with the letter. It’s mere existence challenged me. Still, a part of me missed her. A part wanted something akin to closure with her. With a breath, I pulled it from the spool. Addressed an envelope, and sealed it with wax. “I’ll mail this off tomorrow.”
A Week later
“Maria!” Sophia’s voice woke me from my sleep.
“I’mup.” I sat up and looked about. “What’s with the noise?”
Sophia pressed a letter into my face. “You have a letter from Elizabeth.”
“Well shit.” I mumbled.