A Letter from Suzanna

He had not been expecting a letter. A telephone call or an email maybe, but certainly not a letter. A letter was too impersonal. A letter was the easy way out.

He sighed and looked down at it in his hand. His name and address were penned in Suzanna's beautiful handwriting. But Suzanna did not write letters. She always communicated by phone or email.

But now when he called Suzanna's cell phone, he reached a recording saying the number had been disconnected. When he sent an email, it came back as undeliverable. He had been frightened. What if something had happened to her?

At least now he knew she was okay. He stumbled over to the counter and poured himself a stiff drink. It wasn't the first one of the day. He sank down on the couch and emptied the glass down his throat. He let the glass fall as he brought the letter up to his face. There was no smell. No sweet lavender scent to remind him of Suzanna.

Tiredly, he let his head fall back. Here it was, the answer to the questions that had been tormenting him for almost two months now. He stared at the letter. He knew goodbye was in the letter. But why? Still, he put off opening the letter.

He stood up, wobbling slightly, and headed for the bedroom, the unopened letter still clutched in his hand. They had shared so many wonderful moments and dreamed of so many more in this room. He collapsed on the bed.
"Why, Suzanna?" He whispered as his eyes closed.

In the living room of the small apartment he had rented in his mother's name, the front door opened. Mary stepped inside and looked around disdainfully. The apartment was plain, cheap, actually. She had known about it for months. He came here almost every day. Even though for the last two months, it had been alone. She smiled smugly. Yes, the other woman was gone. As she looked around, her eyes fell on a framed photograph of them. They were smiling at each other happily. It was plain to see how much in love they were. Mary ripped the photo out and shredded it.

Yes, he had asked her for a divorce, but she had stalled him, telling him she was sick. So he had stayed with her, even though he didn't stop seeing Suzanna every moment he could. She had thought at first that she could wait it out, that he would grow tired of the affair. But she had misjudged their feelings. They were really in love. So she had gone to see Suzanna.

The next day Suzanna was gone. She had been gone for almost two months now. It was time he pulled himself together and got back to their lives. She walked to the bedroom door. He was lying curled up with tears on his cheek. Softly, she crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed her husband had shared with another woman. She loved this man. She would do anything to keep him. In his sleep, he murmured, "Suzanna."

Mary saw the letter clutched in his hand and tugged it free. Opening it, she read:

"My Darling, My Love:
I'm so sorry I have to be away from you. I miss you unbearably. Please be strong, for both of us, for Mary, and for your children.

Mary came to see me and told me about her illness. She said she has less than a year to live. She begged me to leave you alone and let her keep her family together for what time she has left. She showed me the doctor's reports. She admitted she knew we were very much in love, but that she and the children needed you. She asked me to go away until after she's gone.
I have to do as she asks. I couldn't live with myself knowing that she is dying. Please forgive me for not being honest before, but Mary begged me not to tell you. However, I can't let you think I don't love you. I do, and I always will.

I know this is very hard, but we will be together again, someday. I will keep in touch with you. Please be strong, my Love, until we are together again.

Love, Suzanna.

Mary tore the letter up and flushed it down the toilet. As she let herself back out the front door, she knew it was time for a change. Arizona sounded nice. It'd be a great place to make a miraculous recovery from that serious illness. She'd never really liked New York anyway.