Naughty Love Letters

Written by: Sabra Malcorum

Once upon a time, in a land far away from the eyes and ears of this world there lived a young man named Lucien. Lucien lived alone in the center of the city just beyond the castle gates. To the right of his home was a theatre, to the left was a market/café, directly across the street was a bookstore, and next to that was a tailor. Lucien had everything a young man could ever possibly need with in 50 paces across or to either side of his front door. And so it was that Lucien would rise with the sun and work the day, as it is right for any young man to do. In Lucien’s mind life was simple and kind-needless to say he was a strange young man full of strange notions and emotions which made sense to none if but to himself. The earth beneath him meant relatively nothing despite the fact that it was what brought him everything of sustenance; the trouble was it supposed him very little substance.

He was a striking young man at first glance. Although he looked at all who passed him by he truly saw no one. It seemed as though Lucien walked through life looking for what simply was not there. His eyes saw in people what they could not see in themselves. He never shared his findings with his passer by’s which left an air of intrigue about him. Half of his allure was everything people did not know. You see, although Lucien lived and worked in the city beyond the castle gates he somehow was a stranger to it. Monsieur Gaston at the Market had prepared his groceries for some years but had no idea as to what Lucien’s favorite of anything was. Madame Gaston prepared his coffee every morning but could not tell you how he took it even if you asked her. Gaspard the tailor had dressed him since he was a boy and yet it was a mystery to him how tall Lucien actually was. Sabine and Charlotte from the old bookstore across the street had sold him books for the better part of 10 years and still they could not tell you his preference in author or genre. He was a mystery to all despite the fact that they’d known him all their lives. Nonetheless, Lucien was a very well liked young man, sought after even.

Women adored him. All women regardless of age, regardless of physical aspect; regardless of the regardless they fell in love with Lucien despite their better judgment and most of all despite their circumstance. He had loved fewer times in his life than he was likely to admit-his romantic nature made it impossible for him to be completely honest. After all, honesty is a beast of burden and it has no place in the minds and lives of beautiful people like Lucien. The women whom he surrounded himself with were if nothing else daughters of Venus. Perfectly put together. None too short, none too tall, none too fair, none too dark, all just right. But, in all their marvelous anatomy none managed to capture Lucien completely. Aesthetically, he looked marvelous with any one of them. Rationally, they were all perfect for him in terms of social standing and economics. Lucien could have been happily married a million times and still for some reason he was not. Another mystery that had the city quarter talking and wondering about this young man all alone in his home.

Lucien’s home was a picture of Lucien; full of beautiful things, cluttered, learned, foreign, domestic, contradictory, consistent, and quite unique-truly the reflection of its creator. Not only did this home mirror his mind and soul it was the only window to his heart. If one looked closely (as none ever do) one might find that between the books, paintings, clever gadgets, games, furniture, cloths, and very quaintly decorated kitchen and sitting room there was an empty air that loomed about. Not only did it loom but also it lurked in every corner, closet, and drawer. It was ever present yet very well hidden. Often it was joked in the kingdom that the Princess’s jewels were the best-hidden secret in all the land…I believed so as well until I had the great misfortune of stumbling upon Lucien’s door.

You see, I too had grown up in the same quarter as Lucien, yet; somehow I was oblivious to him. I knew of him as all knew of him: but I cared very little for the talk and gossip that surrounded him. I was more preoccupied with other things. While all the girls would walk by his window after the theatre to catch a glimpse of him as he watered his plants I walked the other way; and most often alone. You see, Lucien’s house was in the opposite direction of my own and it made very little sense to walk that way when my way was the other way. In the end all the other girls would simply walk by the house to catch a glimpse of him; and yet none ever really looked at him. I had little time for glimpses and ganders-I was a busy girl with work to do and little patience for adolescent daydreams-despite the fact that I was a daydreaming adolescent myself. My awkwardness made me invisible while Lucien’s made him enchanting…in retrospect I am almost sure it was my jealousy that made me so evasive towards him. To think how ridiculous it is to avoid someone who genuinely does not know you even exist? Adolescence…designed to fool and traumatize; we truly are an experiment gone terribly wrong.

Everyday was the same for Lucien and I living side by side and a million miles apart. You don’t have to be oceans away from a person to be distant. You can be distant and oblivious to them from across a table made for two. And so it was that I sat at a table made for two but alone. It was a bistro not far from my home and after a long day of futility (work) I would sometimes go there for dinner. My childhood friends were all married with children of their own and tables for two are so crowded when sitting in three-I most often ate alone. The very moment I realized that a woman walked in the bistro door. Her perfume filled the air and caused all, even myself, to look up. Behind her was Lucien, and for the first time in my life I saw the man that had the attention of the entire neighborhood. I looked up for quite some time, much longer than anyone else in the bistro. I stared. He had a quality to him-I understood why so many of my friends were in love with him (superficially). He was not especially courteous to his lady friend, nor was he unkind. He was not especially handsome nor was he unattractive. He had something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, that je ne sais qua you can’t quite categorize. I looked at him for a very long time; I realized that when he looked back at me. I truly realized it when he looked away after our eyes met. I don’t think anyone ever looked at Lucien-not even that stunning blonde whose perfume filled the air. It may very well have been the change from cold to warm but I could have sworn I saw him blush faintly. And even after they were seated and his back was turned I looked at him. I looked for a long time I must confess, longer than I should have. But, when my wine was dry and my meal was paid I looked one last time and left: I thought it would be the last time I would ever see Lucien again.

Life continued much like it does. Lucien was still 50 paces from his every need. I was still leaving the theatre to go home without a detour. But, life has a habit of getting in the way of good habits. I worked in the flower shop. I put together baskets, bouquets, and even wrote cards from time to time. I was the greatest holder of secrets the city beyond the castle gates never saw. I knew the intimate details of the city’s most humble apologies and most passionate professions of love and devotion. I hated flowers. Perhaps because I was never on the receiving end of them-I am almost sure of that. But, in all my years there was one person in the quarter that never sent flowers-not ever–and that was Lucien. Despite the fact that women adored him and he seemingly adored them Lucien never sent anyone of his lovers flowers. My boss thought it strange but often joked that the one woman whom he would send them to would be the one he’d marry. I never gave any of it much thought. I always thought the sending of flowers to be trivial, meaningless, and very stupid to say the very least. I was young and needless to say that made me very foolish.

One evening I was eager to leave the shop especially on time so that I might go to the theatre. I put on my coat, scarf, and hat and was two steps from the door, count them one two, until I was stopped. I pretended not to hear but as I put my hand on the doorknob it was of no use-my boss was intent for me to turn around. So it was at that moment that he asked me if I was on my way to the theatre and I quickly answered yes with out thinking and he quickly answered that I would be able to make a special delivery to the house next to the theatre. Just like that I found myself pushed outside the door with a box in my hands and the door locked behind me. The only house next to the theatre was the house next to the market that was in fact Lucien’s house. So it would be that I too would have to walk by Lucien’s door against my will on a cold winter eve.

I walked quickly so as not to lose time. Hopefully he would be home and I would not have to wait. Hopefully, he would answer the door promptly and I would still be in time to purchase my ticket. If all went well perhaps I would only miss the first five minutes of the show. But, nothing in life goes as planned-and we should all be thankful for that. If all our plans were to play out we’d never know anything about living and that’s no way to go through life.

So it was that with a heavy heart I walked past the theatre and straight to Lucien’s door. I knocked and waited patiently in the cold. To no surprise the lights were on but there was no answer. I knocked again, with a little less patience and once again there was no answer-only the sound of laughter growing louder. I knocked the third time very loudly and to my disgust there was still no answer. I checked my watch and realized that I could no longer purchase a ticket-I was far too late. I was tired, I was upset, I was very annoyed when I began to bang my closed fist on Lucien’s door over and over and over again until he opened it. To my amazement he was not upset at all. In fact, he was quite amused as he looked at little me and his big door back and forth as though he’d stopped some argument. He looked at me and I looked back-I was unimpressed by his smile and sweet disposition.

“Small thing like you made all that noise?”

“These are for you Sir.” I handed him the box and turned away.

“Wait, wait,” he opened them “I did not order these.”

“When you receive flowers they are usually from someone else.” I answered crassly.

“Excuse me?” He heard perfectly, he just wanted to hear it again.

“When flowers are sent they are usually not sent by the recipient”

“Is that a fact, you can prove this?” He commented facetiously

“It’s pretty standard Sir. Enjoy your flowers-Goodnight”

“Please don’t call me Sir, it makes me feel old. Eh, what is your name?” He asked while reading the card.

“If you are planning to file a complaint…”

“What? No, I asked what your name was-I said nothing of complaints” He sinisterly looked up from the card he was reading.

“Why do you want to know my name?”

“Because you’re a very curious girl and you won’t tell me.” He stood in his doorway with an intrigued look on his face; Angevin could not be sure if she or the card were the object of this man’s curious inclination.

“Is there something wrong with the flowers?” Angevin asked briskly.

“There’s nothing wrong with the flowers, I just want to know your name is all.” Laughs and smiles mildly as he reads the card over again and looks across the street.

“What’s so funny?”

“Tell me your name and I will share it with you I promise-I just can’t share this with a stranger-you must understand.” Lucien reads the card again and continues to laugh.

“Angevin.” I answered as the box office closed. I told him my name as my heart sunk deeper into my chest as I watched the ticket clerk close the ticket window.

Lucien noticed my disinterest in what ever it was that was amusing him. It began to snow and the evening suddenly became colder and darker with out warning. I looked at my watch and the hour was now late. My entire evening was shattered. It would seem that this was not lost on Lucien despite his aloof nature. He looked at me for a moment in silence as the gasp in his breath was for a moment immortalized into a frosty mist that soon evaporated into the cool winter air. Lucien took a step forward and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Are you alright?” He asked with a genuine concern it almost seemed he truly wondered.

“Fine.” I put on my gloves and desperately looked for a way out and away from that doorstep; I quickly put on my gloves and nodded good evening. As quickly as I could turn my back I heard a sound that made the hair on my neck stand straight up. It may very well have been the cold-but to this day I really don’t believe that.

“Angevin” He said. I felt my heart sink again-but not as it did when the ticket clerk closed his window; something different, something new, something I would feel often after that moment. I did not turn around the first time. “Angevin” This time I turned around quickly.

“Angevin.” He walked over to me with the card and handed it to me. “You don’t like me do you?”

“Excuse me?” I asked surprised.

“You heard what I said perfectly well.”

“I don’t even know you…”

“And still you don’t like me.” He looked down at me curiously and patiently; like a wolf salivating before biting into prey.

Suddenly I was overcome by a burst of honesty and disinterest for the consequences of my words and actions. “No, I don’t like you, at all.”

“Really.” Lucien was taken aback.

“And you know what else?” I added with imminent fury.

“No, I don’t, please continue.” He stood there in the cold with the box of flowers still in his hands. He looked at me dumbfounded like a child despite the fact that he towered over me.

“You are selfish, thoughtless and…you’re not as good looking as everyone makes you out to be.” I put my hand over my mouth after that last bit. Lucky for me that something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Wait here, don’t move”. He bolted across the street to the bookshop where Madame Sabine was closing for the evening. He handed her the flowers and it could be understood that he was apologizing for having read the card. Madame Sabine was flustered and took the flowers rather quickly and muttered something to Lucien as she walked away. He made his way back across the street to me.

“Why did you give her your flowers?” I asked. “Because, they were not my flowers, they were hers.” He answered as I watched her turn the corner as my face turned a beat red. I had somehow heard wrong back at the flower shop. I had made a terrible mistake. I had said terrible things. In this moment I could have died. “It’s what I was trying to tell you. Apparently Madame Sabine and Gaspard the tailor have been having a secret love affair for the better part of twenty years. “

I loosened my scarf as it suddenly became unbearably hot for me. I ran my hands through my hair taking it down. The thought that I’d lost one of the secrets of the city beyond the castle gates to Lucien wasn’t as bad as having to share the shame of having done so with him.

“I am going to get fired.” Somehow that slipped out with out me even realizing it.

“Not to worry Angevin, I have already made provisions”. Lucien said in a humble voice.

I looked up at him torn between guilt and gratitude. I had said terrible things to him. I didn’t even know him. I wasn’t even really that angry with him. I don’t know why I said what I said. What made it worse was that he wasn’t at all upset by my words. He actually seemed quite happy.

“This is the part where you say thank you.” He said while brushing my hair from my face.

“Thank you” I hadn’t realized but I was quite the mess to look at. My hair let down long and now damp by the snow. My scarf in my hands, my cheeks rosy from the cold and the embarrassment: I wasn’t exactly a picture of Venus. We must have looked ridiculous out there on the street when I think about it now.

Lucien nodded and blew some warm breath on his hands as he rubbed them together and looked back at his front door that was still open. He looked at me nervously. “Would you like to come in?” Before I could answer he anticipated. “It’s too late for you to go to the theatre. I know you got every week at this time because for the last 10 years I’ve sat by my window at the exact same time smoking a cigarette as you bought your ticket. I was getting ready to eat dinner when you knocked so my supper is now cold. It only seems fair that you come in and join me.” I stood in silence for what must have been a very long time. “Say yes Angevin, please, if your silence doesn’t kill me the cold will surely kill us both.”

I laughed uncontrollably. Some of it was nerves the most of it came from this warmth stemming from a place I’d never felt before. Lucien was so genuine and so unlike how I’d imagined him. The idea that someone so beautiful could have ever wondered about the strangest girl in the city didn’t flatter me but made me feel less alone. In that moment I realized that Lucien and I were more alike that I would have previously liked to believe. He looked at me as I laughed and was infected by it. He too stood and laughed as I did for a short while. We both stopped with in seconds of each other and looked at each other much like we did that night at the bistro, but a little differently this time, this time Lucien did not look away.

“Will you come? If you don’t I’m afraid I will not recover after what I’ve just confessed.” He said as he put his hand out for the taking.

I nodded and took his hand. Lucien smiled and guided me back to his door. Before entering the warmth of his home I pulled his hand to stop him. He turned around looked down at me. For a moment I began to think he was far too tall, far too charming, far too good looking, far too much of everything good for an odd girl like me.

“I’m very sorry for what I said before.” I let go of his hand and as I did I could see his heart breaking.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked sadly as I looked away. “I loved what you said, I love the way you do as you please. I love how have dinner alone at the bistro. I love how you go to the theatre alone. I love how you are free of this world’s conventions. I love what you said to me Angevin. “

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me those things Sir.”

Suddenly Lucien was over taken by an anger and passion I did not anticipate.

“I told you to call me Lucien.” In the same instant he spoke he took me up and kissed me hard and long.

I resisted in the beginning but I was soon subdued by warmth of his lips and the lingering taste of wine he must have drank before answering the door. With very little effort he pulled me in close as he slammed the front door. One by one every stitch of clothing came off. One moment at a time all hesitation and inhibition left my body as every piece of garment hit the floor. I was not myself nor had I become someone else. In that moment I became the most envied woman in the entire city beyond the castle gates; for it was that moment that I became the only woman to have entered Lucien’s home and eventually call it my own.

The End

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