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“H
ey.... Andrew.” I spoke on the phone. For a while, all I heard was his breathing, slow and steady. Breathe in, breathe out. “I did not think you would call.” I heard the disappointment in his voice. “Am I too late? Can we still talk?” I heard his breathing pick up over the line. “Let’s talk.”
I opened the door for Andrew. He was adorned in a simple white T-shirt and faded blue jeans. There were dark circles under his eyes. “Come in.” He silently walked through the door. After taking off his shoes, he immediately took his seat on the living room sofa.
His movement felt so natural, a result of the many times he had already done it. I sat down beside him. "Everything you said that day was all true; you are right. The way I treat you is quite unfair. A relationship is supposed to be built on reciprocation. The thing is, I liked the fact that you were so distant from everything which haunts me. But Annette made me realize that talking with you will not merge you into my shadows, but it will give you a chance to understand me. So, it is going to take time, but that is what I will do." I grew silent after that. He took my hand in his. He did not need to say anything after that.
“So, you talked to Annette about us?” Andrew asked as we ate. I nodded and looked up. His head was slightly tilted as though in deep thought. “Why? What’s wrong?” He looked over at me upon hearing my voice and said, “Nothing’s wrong but... I am not sure how I feel about Annette.
It feels like she is hiding something, something big. You saw how she reacted when I talked about Doctor Tsunoda. I just feel like there is something very wrong there.” I listened to him quietly. In some respects, he is correct. She is definitely hiding something. But then, so am I. "I do think she is hiding things from us, but I do not believe we need to worry about it.
Everyone has their own secrets and their own shadows to hide. She has never given us a reason to doubt her, so why should we?" Just as I finished speaking, my phone rang. "Hello? Ms. Victoria? This is Detective Ocon speaking. The psychiatric facility was clearing out Doctor Tsunoda's stuff and found a letter he had left behind for you. You should come to the police station to retrieve it." "Okay, I will be there immediately," I said. Andrew gave me a questioning look. and I hung up the phone and said, “It was the police. Doctor Tsunoda left behind a letter for me.”
Even though I told him not to, Andrew insisted on coming with me. Both of us entered the police station. It presented a vibrant contrast to the outside. The streets were empty due to the late hour, whereas the police station was still crowded due to people. I spotted Detective Ocon bent over a cardboard box and approached him.
Upon hearing my footsteps, he turned around. I was about to ask him when he motioned for me to wait. He then proceeded to disappear behind a corner and returned with an already opened envelope in his hand. I took the envelope from him rather harshly and immediately turned around to leave.
Did I catch a whiff of something coming from the envelope? Citrus? Is it lemon? Before I could ponder over it any further, Andrew's voice brought me back to reality. Maybe something was spilled on it in the facility or the police station. I shrugged it off. I heard Andrew thanking him and then joining me. I said, “you should go home. I will talk to you tomorrow. I want to read this alone first.” I knew it was hard for him to give me space, but he nodded nonetheless and left after walking me to my apartment.
"My dear Victoria, I do not know what I want to say to you. As I sit here, holding a pen in my hand and a blank sheet of paper in front of me, I know the end is near. I hope you will have it in your heart to forgive me because there is a chance that when you find this letter, I will already be gone. My sorrows have become too great for me to carry. I do not know how much longer I can hold on. I only wish to convey one thing. When I am gone, do not remember me as the dead body you will see, but rather remember me as the man who visited your house when you were younger, the man who celebrated your birthdays with you, the man who attended your tea parties, the man who loved you like a daughter. Your father and I shared a companionship beyond the one that can be described by words. I hope you can have it in your heart to forgive him. Both of us have disappointed you beyond redemption. I do not know when my life began with the events which led to my ultimate end, but even if I could go back, I would still choose to get to know you. As long as you live, I will remain alive in your memory. I wish you nothing but peace in your life."
Something wasn’t right. The letter was too generic. I knew Doctor Tsunoda. He would never write something like this without reason. “That’s just your paranoia talking,” my brain whispered to me. Yet I could not shake off the feeling. He wants to tell me something. I flipped the page over. Nothing. I rattled the envelope. Nothing. I reread the letter. Nothing. I began to think back. Maybe we had a conversation like this before, and he is hinting toward it? Nothing. Why would he not give me a reason if he was going to write a suicide note? Was this even written by him? The writing is his.
I had been wracking my brain for an hour. Nothing. I sat in my lounge with my head down. What is he trying to tell me? Maybe something about the woman he mentioned? He knew the police would go over the letter before it ever got to me. What is he trying to hide from them? I decided to make chamomile tea to calm my nerves.
With the letter still in my hand, I entered the kitchen and turned on the stove. I placed the letter beside the stove as I went to fill a pot of water to boil. I came back and put on the pot. As I waited for the water to boil, my thoughts continued on their earlier disposition. As the water began to boil, I pulled out a cup from the upper cabinet and placed a chamomile teabag in. With my wandering mind, I held the pot above the cup.
Not realizing it, I accidentally poured some of it on the back of my hand. The pain blurred my vision with momentary tears, and that's when I noticed it. Writing. Some writing had appeared on the corner of the page, which was beside the flame of the stove. That's when it hit me. That's it! He wrote in invisible ink! I forgot all about my scalded hand and turned the stove to low. This is why I could smell lemon, invisible ink. I knew it was weird because Doctor Tsunoda had always been very particular about what he or his things smelled like. Holding the piece of paper above the flame so as to not burn it, I watched with fascination as more and more writing appeared. With excitement coursing through my nerves, the tea was forgotten, and I began to read his actual letter.
