A Missive of Farewell ?

[darrenfate]

Dear Rochelle,

Sometimes, when I think I'm over you reality hits me square between the eyes. Just yesterday as I ordered breakfast I almost added your favorite veggie omelet on for you. I took this as a sign to write you.

I never gave up the boat. She's still in perfect condition mahogany hull and trimmings. I always wanted a Morgan 43. Can't believe we only sailed her one season. My last link to you my darling. In fact I sit in Kindred Spirit right now as I write this.

I redid the bed, putting in the Queen size you always wanted. Although as often as we made love up on deck or against the wheel the old bed rarely got much use. I guess even we had to sleep sometimes.

I recount the days and nights leading up to your disappearance endlessly. The police have finally stopped coming around, and they know my voice by heart when I call them - only weekly now - for any progress.

You had been troubled those last few weeks. Sudden secret calls on your cell phone that you didn't want to talk about. Starting a new email account just so you could take messages in private. The red faced anger you'd get after a call. I never intruded not willing to be the jealous lover. I wish to God now that I had.

Then that fateful night.

The memories are burned into my brain. We sailed at dusk and watched the sun set. You were unnaturally quiet. The seas got rough and I went below decks to change clothes. When I arrived topside you were gone. Not a ship in sight. No trace. Lifejackets were all intact. The Coast Guard searched for a week, theorizing that you were thrown overboard by the gathering storm. I don't know what to believe.

What would have been our wedding day was the hardest day to take. Every uninvited door bell ring, every phone call makes my heart leap that it could be you. My friends tell me to move on, maybe this letter will be the catharisis I need that could make that happen - but I doubt it.

I cast this bottle into the water where you disappeared, hoping against hope that it finds it's way to you whether in this world or the next.

All my love,


Davis


OOC: I am looking to write with a woman who finds this idea intriguing. I don't have a preordained path for this thread to travel and I'm open to your ideas. Please PM me first before responding here. We will add more cast members as we go. Thanks. Darren.

 

[Annabelllee2003]

My hands are shaking and it takes three tries to get the key to go in the door. Fear is a lead ball in my stomach and I slam the door and put on the chain. I start stuffing my clothes and toiletries in my duffle and wonder how they found me again, I thought I’d been more careful. How did they find me so fast?

Less than three days this time. I’d seen them just 15 minutes ago, as I ate a greasy breakfast in a boardwalk diner. They were just strolling down the boardwalk so conspicuous in dark suits. It scared me that they didn’t try to hide anymore. I’d snuck out and doubled back, to this flea palace. It’s all I could afford, my money was almost gone.

‘Just run NOW Becca,’ I try to make myself move. But I am so tired… I’m tired of running. I’m 32 years old and I feel a hundred.

Slinging my duffle over my shoulder, I open the door and look out, my hand stealing around to the back of my jeans where I carry a .38. Running down the stairs to the main drag, I find a taxi.

“Shoney’s, closest one,” was all I could wheeze out to the driver.

As we make our way through traffic, through the garish wonder that’s Myrtle Beach, I wonder how long I can keep running. It’s been 13 months. Thirteen months since I was Rochelle and …safe, or so I thought.

Just a day later I’m in another seedy hotel. I give the clerk enough for three nights but now my money is gone except for a few dollars and my head is pounding. The trucker I finally hitched a ride with had asked no questions and been quite kind. I looked horrible, the dye in my hair growing out, my clothes creased. I’d lost so much weight they didn’t even fit anymore.

I wait until dark and cross Pacific moving toward the ocean. On Atlantic I turn and walk up the strip and lose myself in the night crowd of Virginia Beach. I’m out of ideas. God, I’m tired. When I come to the marina, my eyes blur as I look at the sailboats. My chest tightens until I think I’m going to suffocate. My Davis. My fiancé. No, Rochelle’s fiancé.

I don’t remember looking for a phone or changing my last dollars into change. I don’t remember thinking about calling him. What I do remember is his voice when he picked up the phone.

“Hello… Hello?” his voice begins to be annoyed at the silence.

“Davis? It’s ...me… Rochelle and ...I’m in trouble, I need you.” I prayed harder than I ever have that he doesn’t hang up or tell me to go to hell.

“ROCHELLE? Where are you?”

“Virginia Beach at… the marina I guess. I’m sorry to call you but I don’t know what to do.” My voice breaks and I start to sob.

What have I done? The one person I have tried to protect in all of this and now I've called him. I'm such a coward.

 

[darrenfate]

Davis

"Davis" ....

The words hung electric in the air from the one voice that that I had so longed to hear.

Rochelle was alive...

How many times had I dreamed of this? I prayed that I would just get the chance even once more to hear her lilting cadence to have her back in my life. You'd think I'd be the happiest man on the face of the earth. You'd be thinking wrong. My anger exploded to the surface, I shouted into the phone -

“ROCHELLE? Where are you?”

Only after these words dripping with vitriol came out did I hear the weakness in Rochelle's voice, did I realize that she was at the end of her rope. Quickly I went on ...

"Rochelle - I'm here for you. I love you. I'll be there as fast as I can. Do you need money?"

A quivering voice answered simply -

"Yes."

I closed my eyes, I knew this would be complicated.

"Look I don't know what kind of trouble you are in and it doesn't matter to me right now. I can drive there in about 5 hours. Tell me exactly where you want to meet."

Rochelle told me the name of the place and her room number. After a quick goodbye she was gone again. I leaped into action. Throwing some clothes in a backpack I ran out to my black Marauder and leaped behind the wheel. Burning rubber I flew down the road.

A quick stop at the Bank of America and I cleaned out my account. With all the money I had in the world hot in my jeans pocket I turned onto the freeway north and drove like a bat out of Hell.
4 hours and 22 minutes later I pulled up outside a dive hotel. As I walked done the corridor I could smell carpet that reeked of vomit and cheap liquor. Bounding up the stairs I was soon there.

Taking a deep breath - I knocked on a battered door with the rusty number 224 hanging askew by one screw. Rochelle's room. For the first time since the call I got nervous.

What would she say? What would we do ? ...

 

[Annabelllee2003]

Rochelle’s appearance has changed drastically in thirteen months and those months were not kind. She has gone from being a shapely raven-haired beauty to a painfully thin bleached blond stray. The bruised shadows under her eyes speak volumes and even her eyes don’t look the same. The dancing deep brown eyes Davis remembers are clouded with hurt, disillusionment and defeat. Where she used to be a healthy 115 or 120 pounds she must be 15 or 20 pounds lighter. Weight she couldn’t afford to lose. The once beautifully manicured hands now sport nails ragged and bitten to the quick. Her cheekbones stand out in sharp relief making her eyes appear huge. The intelligent, sassy, classy women he knew has disappeared into a worn caricature of what she used to be.
--------------

“Who is it?” Please let it be Davis.

“It’s Davis, Rochelle. Open the door.”

With a thumb I engage the safety and toss the .38 on the bed. I unlatch the chain and open the door with trembling hands and there is Davis. He looks so good to me. We both stand shock still for a moment. I watch his eyes widen then narrow as he looks at me. Then he steps in and crushes me to his chest.

“Jesus, Rochelle… baby, what’s happened to you?” His voice almost breaks and I start to sob on his chest.

I shake my head against his chest, I can’t talk about it yet.

“Davis, thank god you came.”

He pulls back and tilts my face to stare in my eyes, then looks around the squalid room.

“I’m taking you out of here Rochelle, pack.”

“Davis, I’m on… …the run. Some really bad people are after me.” I turn to the bureau, pulling my decrepit sweater tight around me. “Really bad people.

“I left because I couldn’t let you be involved. And... and I shouldn’t have called you now Davis. I’m not really Rochelle, well I was but... my name is Rebecca Constantino. You may have heard that name before. I was in the witness protection program but I guess I’m not anymore.

“I’m sorry Davis.”