The Love Letters: A Novella (4 page)

“Not really, but I would like to evaluate your special skills. How much cock can you handle?” Zach cups my breasts and squeezes gently, releasing a small sigh of pleasure.

“Oddly, this is the exact format of my earlier interview, en français bien sur.” I smile seductively as Zach lowers his briefs to reveal a monster piece of flesh, long, thick and extremely erect. I drop to my knees, prepared and eager for the oral challenge of the decade. I take the tip in my mouth and swirl my tongue around the circumference of his engorged shaft.

“Natalie, you’re hired.”

September 17, 2002

What a beautiful day! I love this city. I love the constant movement. I love the resilient nature of September. I love the fact that I can perform my walk of shame with wrinkled clothes and cheap orange flip-flops and no one seems to care. I love the Village junkie that just whistled at me between puffs of some questionable smoke. I love that I can walk with a goofy smile of delirium and people assume I’m a tourist. I love that I have no idea where I am, but there will always be a Starbucks and some fake handbags directing my path.

Last night with Zach was amazing, clair et simple. He’s one sexy freak with an enormous . . . sexual appetite. Our constant nakedness prevented us from leaving his apartment, so Zach made me waffles with fresh strawberries and a side of whipped, mmmm, delicious whipped cream. My body is sore from the contorting and stretching of certain muscles, and that wooden spoon slapping against my ass didn’t help, but my pain is a glorious reminder of what it feels like to be alive. But mostly, my diaphragm has never hurt so good. We laughed and laughed, and I’m pretty sure I snorted chocolate milk at one point. It was like a slumber party with my best friend, only more orgasmic.

This morning, a woman’s true test of casual sex, Zach surprised me with good news about the job, and a present. He managed to sneak out and buy me an elegant day planner for my new job, and some cheap flip flops for my aching feet. I mean, holy shit, what girl doesn’t want a present after a night like that?

Every page for the next week has
Zach Attack
written at various times of the day. He’s sweet, adorable, sexy as shit, and he wants me as much as I want him. Yet, call me jaded, I still have this uncomfortable doubt that he’s not telling me everything.

“Ma’am what can I get you to drink?” says the girl with the purple hair and nose ring. Okay, I’m standing at the register deep in thought, but does she really need to insult me with the word ma’am?

“Oh, sorry, I was distracted by your hair and contempt for humanity. What shade is that exactly?” I frown and she frowns, and I better order before we engage in a full-on sticking-out-the-tongue war. “May I have a grande skinny vanilla latte.” I dig in my clutch . . . lipstick case, train ticket, cell phone, no fucking wallet. Zut!

“That’ll be five twenty-nine.” Oh crap, this is embarrassing. I could just stick out my tongue and dart out the door. I could throw some gift cards in the air and pretend like one of them has my money on it. I could . . . “Ma’am?” Jesus Christ, I’m the same age as you.

“I, uh, don’t have my wallet.” I smile nervously and then hang my head in shame.

“Here, I got it. May I also have a tall iced green tea.” His voice is smooth and precise – like a movie star. I pivot to thank him but my face meets his chest, magnificently broad and deliciously fragrant. I raise my head and gasp at the sight of his dark, intense eyes and his gorgeous smile. He places his hand behind my waist and peels my frozen body away from the counter. “Our drinks will be ready down there.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” I say, admiring his large frame and confident gait.

“I try to help at least one damsel per day – it’s part of the superhero code.” He smiles charmingly.

“Well, thank you.” I wink, waiting for him to ask me out. I mean, this is how it happens, right?

“I gotta grande skinny vanilla latte and a tall iced green tea unsweetened here for an Adam,” the barista squawks.

“You’re very welcome.” Mr. Dashing hands me my chilled beverage and a napkin as we walk toward the exit. “I would love to hang around and watch you insult people, very sexy trait might I add, but I’m late for a meeting. Some crazy lady was holding up the Starbucks line.” He smirks. I melt.

“Yeah well, crazy bitches need their coffee, too. Thanks again, Adam.”

“No problem. Have a nice day.” He nods and walks in the opposite direction toward the court buildings.

Now, how am I going to get to Grand Central?

September 19, 2002

I open the front door to Zach’s boyish smile and a bouquet of fresh lavender. I haven’t seen him in two days, and every cell in my body wants to rip open his shirt and kiss him from head to toe.

“Natalie, ma femme, give me a kiss.” Zach steps in the foyer and plants a huge kiss on my cheek, aware of Mom’s presence by the door. Unaware that I have no modesty, I grab his face and force my tongue in his mouth.

“You two! Zach, I’m Judy!” Mom scoots next to me as Zach’s eyes open and blink rapidly. He releases my grip and places his arm around my shoulder.

“Mrs. LeGrange, it’s very nice to meet you. Natalie speaks highly of you and Mr. LeGrange.” Zach presents Mom with the bouquet and smiles proudly. “I picked this from my mother’s garden early this morning.”

“Oh Zach, the lavender smells divine. Thank you so much! You kids have a wonderful day.” I roll my eyes as Mom walks to the kitchen.

“What a kiss-ass! Surely you don’t think you can get that sort of crap from me? Parents hate me!” Zach pulls me into him as I grab my purse.

“I doubt anyone hates you, jealous maybe, but you’re lovable. C’mon, I have something for you as well, it’s in the car.” Zach takes my hand and leads me to a black BMW convertible.

I’ve caught myself wondering about the extent of his family’s wealth, but then I see this humble man, caring and compassionate, and the money doesn’t seem to matter.

Zach helps me inside the car and I immediately search for my present.

“What’s wrong? Did you lose something?” He’s grinning arrogantly, enjoying my child-like behavior. Zach starts the car and then pops open the glove compartment. A small jewelry box falls into my lap. “Now, before you go thinking that I’m some sap that gives jewelry to every girl I meet, well I don’t. And before you think I’m madly in love with you and I’m rushing into whatever this is, you’re wrong. It’s a little gift for my girl.” He smiles sweetly, but then we both laugh at the absurdity of the moment.

“Zach, I’m just a girl, sitting in a Bimmer who just wants sex and gifts. You understand me!” I open the box to find an abstract gold star on a delicate gold chain. It’s so simple and innocent that it actually takes on a deeper meaning. Whatever this is, I never want it to end.

“Let me help you.” I lift my hair so he can clasp the chain around my neck. It rests perfectly on the conclave of my neck. Zach taps the star and says, “Now, I expect you to wear this necklace and only this necklace when we’re boinking the shit out of each other.”

“Wow, spoken like a true Renaissance man. However, you should see what I’m capable of draped in diamonds.”

“Well then shit, let’s go to the jewelry store now.” Zach speeds out of the driveway and raises the volume to the radio. I put on my sunglasses and turn to admire his stunning profile. He’s relaxed, but there always seems to be a hint of sadness behind his eyes.

“So, is your mom at the hospital or a doctor’s office?” I ask.

“She’s at the house,” he answers flatly.

“Oh, it’s probably more comfortable to get chemo in your own home.” I mean, I can only imagine. I haven’t told Zach, but I’m afraid to meet his mom. I’m not always appropriate, and I’m not great at hiding my fear.

“Mom isn’t on chemotherapy anymore.” His face saddens as he inhales deeply. “We’re here.”

I follow his gaze to a large, gated driveway. We’re not even three minutes from my parent’s house, but this is like a whole other dream world. The gate opens and we drive through the iron behemoth, me with my mouth open, and Zach waving at a man in a security uniform.

Holy, holy shit. The house is a mansion, like Daddy Warbucks-size. I shift in my seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable and underdressed.

“So, I think I’ll just hang outside by the garden, or the courtyard, or the tennis courts, I mean Jesus, Zach, you didn’t tell me you were the prince of Greenwich!”

Zach stops the car and turns to face me. “Natalie, shut up. We had a deal and you’re coming inside. I need you as a friend right now.”

I swallow my words and gain my composure. My friend needs me and I will not be selfish. I will not be selfish. I will not be a brat. I will . . .

“Let’s go, then.” I jump out of the car and plaster on a smile. I feel Zach’s hand on the small of back, leading me to the house. The doors open and we’re greeted by a lovely woman in her mid-fifties wearing overalls and garden clogs. Surely this isn’t his mom.

“Hey, Aunt Patty, I want you to meet my friend Natalie.” Zach nudges me forward as the woman smiles sweetly and offers a hand.

“Hi, Natalie! So nice of you to tag along with this big goof.” She slaps Zach on the back lovingly and then continues. “I feel it’s my duty as his aunt to embarrass the heck out of him as much as possible.”

I shake her hand and smile at her warm inclusion. “Then I’m sure you have plenty of stories and photos to keep me entertained for hours!”

“Oh boy, do I! I like her, Zach.” Aunt Patty motions for us to follow her through the lobby, I mean foyer. Everything is expensive, no doubt, but there’s also an air of livability. “Your mom is in the garden room watching the squirrels fight over acorns,” Patty adds.

Zach leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Are you okay with this?” I nod, not prepared for what I’m about to encounter.

“Claire? Zach and his friend Natalie are here to annoy you,” Aunt Patty announces.

Oh my God. I’m shocked. I can’t breathe because every bodily organ is lumped in my throat. My eyes are stinging and my heart is doing somersaults in my stomach. She’s not getting treatment, Claire is dying.

“Hi, Mom! I cut some lavender from your garden and the roses look phenomenal. There must be a hybrid of sorts because I swear one bush was a blue color.” Zach sits in a chair near her hospital bed and motions for me to join him. I can’t. I physically cannot move my legs. “Mom, I want you to meet Natalie. She’s like a little star that fell from the sky.” I shake my head violently as tears stream down my cheeks.

Aunt Patty comes to my side and wraps her arm around me. She leans in to whisper in my ear, “Don’t be frightened, there is only love in this room.”

And I do it, with Patty’s help, I make my way to her bedside. Even with the large machines and tubes swarming her body, I can see Claire’s beautiful face, smiling up at me.

“Hi, Mrs. Parker,” I blubber.

“Claire,” she says quietly.

“So Mom, Natalie just got a job with Molly. She’s a PR expert and speaks French.” Oh, I could just kill him.

“That’s not true.” I sit down next to Zach and squeeze his leg.

“Natalie is from Canada and sometimes she says funny words.” Oh crap, this is so weird. He’s trying to rile me up and force me to be myself.

“I can’t help that Zach doesn’t speak the language. Claire, your son is very sarcastic and a bit of a dreamer. Do you know where he could’ve picked this up?”

“I have . . . no . . . fucking . . . clue.” Claire’s smile is the same crooked grin that Zach often flashes, and it’s apparent that their relationship was the family glue.

“Okay Mom, that round goes to the mouth of Natalie LeGrange. I’m going to take her up to my room and make-out, but we’ll be back down for some lunch.” Zach stands up and pulls me with him. He leans over his mom and plants a kiss on her bald head. My tears are about to make another appearance but then . . .

“Use . . . protection,” Claire whispers.

Inside Zach’s former bedroom, I take a moment to snoop around and gather my thoughts. He lounges on a bean bag and watches me, amused by my behavior.

Okay, so Claire’s obviously dying. So why am I here? Maybe this is one of those things where he needs to marry me in order to inherit the family fortune. No, that’s not it, his dad is still in the picture and that only happens on Lifetime.

He mentioned that he had other plans for his life, maybe he wants me to take care of his mom so he can get out of town. No, he definitely loves his mom and I’m not a caretaker.

Wow, there’s a lot of funky shit in this room. Zach was a total stoner in high school.

I hold up an orange tube with a little bowl and shake my head. “Is this a bong?”

“Maybe. Now come kiss me.”

“Not yet. Let me do what I need to do.” I walk to his closet to survey his clothes. There’s a bunch of Princeton shit and some fraternity stuff, and I realize we never even talked about his life. He’s been so evasive about what he does or wants to do. It’s like he’s more concerned about protecting and helping me – “Did you go to Princeton?”

“Yes.”

“Is your mom dying?” I face him, immediately regretting my question.

“No. I mean, the doctors don’t really know.” He gets up from the bean bag and sits on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed and his head drooped. I move beside him and wrap my arms around his waist.

“Talk to me. I’m your friend, remember?” Zach lifts his head and smiles at the little star resting on my chest.

“My mom’s a doctor, the kind that conducts medical research for drugs. She actually started Parker and Parker. My dad was just the face of the company, the businessman that fronted the initial costs. Mom has worked in a lab at Mt. Sinai for twenty years, until September 11, 2001.

“She was in the lab that day working on a research grant for the hospital when the planes crashed into the towers. It was part of her oath to serve those in medical need, so she selflessly spent thirty-three days at Ground Zero while my dad bunkered away in Greenwich, working from home and ignoring everyone around him.

“I had just moved into my apartment, and I offered my bed to Mom, but she refused. She camped out Downtown like a refugee, never abandoning the responders digging through the rubble. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mom put on gloves and started hauling away debris, it’s just in her nature.

“Around Christmas, she got a cold that eventually lead to pneumonia. I took her to specialists, but a CT scan finally revealed the black masses eating up her lungs. At the time, it was assumed that she had lung cancer, but two rounds of chemotherapy did nothing but make her weak and hopeless. She’s on full-time oxygen, and last week she started the morphine drip.” Zach stutters out the last words, full of pain. “It’s over,” he adds.

My eyes swell into a watery mess and my chest tightens. I kiss him passionately, trying to swallow all his sadness, if just for a moment. Zach pins me down on the bed as tears drop from his eyes. I drink their saltiness and inhale his hot breath, consuming all his repressed hurt. He’s wild and emotional, but I gather him in my arms and hold him. The child, the man, my new best friend.