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Howie trudged tiredly back to his room. It was an hour after the performance, and he was more than ready to seek his bed. The Backstreet Boys had given the performance of their lives, and Howie was so exhausted, he was ready to drop. Slipping his key card into the slot, he heard the distant *click* of the door unlocking.
Howie wandered into his room, pulling his shirt off over his head, then stripping down entirely, on his way to the shower. The hot steam soothed his aching muscles, enveloping him in sleepy, comforting warmth. Reluctantly, Howie stepped from the shower, wrapped a towel around himself, and reentering his bedroom for the night. The next day, they would be in Portland, and a different hotel would be waiting. As he approached the bed, looking for a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, Howie noticed something flat and white lying on his pillow. He hesitantly picked up the envelope, which read “Howie” in bold script. He tore open the envelope, and withdrew a sheet of white paper. Unfolding it, he saw the hotel’s logo emblazoned as the heading. The entire sheet was taken up with the same bold script, which was much too legible to be one of the guys’. Howie’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened as he read the letter. Tossing it aside, he searched frantically for the most recent letter that he had written to night before, finally locating it on the bed stand. A sigh of relief escaped him, as he held his hand to his temple, hoping to curb the rush of blood he felt pounding in his ears. It was alright, the letter was safe. Then, it dawned on him that someone had READ his letter. The thought instantly ignited a fire of anger, but quickly cooled. What had the person written again? Slowly and carefully, Howie reread the letter. “Chemelyn.” The name rolled off of his tongue with ease. She sounded sweet, almost.......like himself. He starred at the address which she had written on the bottom of the page. Howie cocked his head to the side, and debated with himself, inwardly. Soon, he gave up, and tucked his own letter into his bag. Howie was just about to toss Chemelyn’s into the trash when something stopped him. Unsure why, he pocketed the letter alongside his own, and crawled into bed. He shut the light off, and lay awake for some time, Chemelyn on his mind.
The man handed Chemelyn her bag of fresh produce and she, in turn, handed him the required amount of money. He gave her a friendly smile which she returned before heading down the isle way of the market. She paused at a flower vendor, and scrutinized the blooms. Her eyes settled upon long stemmed tulips, their buds an array of beautiful colors. Chemelyn began to select the healthiest of the flowers, and handed the old woman behind the display a ten dollar bill with a “Thank you!” Continuing on, Chemelyn came to the end of the awning of the public market, situated in the heart of Seattle. She basked in the rays of sunshine which warmed her body to the core. Briskly, Chemelyn darted across the bricked street, and into a small corner coffee shop. A wolf whistle sounded from behind the counter. “Save the flattery, Malone, and get back to work!” she chided, sending the tall man a mock glare, and placing her hands on her hips. He eyed her appreciatively.
“Girl, if I was straight, I would definitely go for you!” he complimented. Chemelyn laughed at her oldest and dearest friend.
“You better watch it, what would Derik say?”
“I know what would be on his mind. ‘How about a threesome’?” Malone teased. “Seriously though, why aren’t you bringing home any men?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “Could it be, you’re stashing them all away from the charms of moi?”
“You wish, Malone, you wish!” she replied with a chuckle. He gave her a cocky grin.
“Just thought I’d ask.” The glass door swung open, and jingled the little bell above it, merrily.
“Hey, Corbin.” Chemelyn heard Malone greet one of their regular customers. It was people like Corbin who kept this place busy. But then, after one visit to the quaint coffee shop, how could one resist returning for a second helping of the comfortable atmosphere, and it’s cheeky staff?
The interior of the cafe was painted a soft beige hue, which gave off a warm aura. Small tables made of rich cherry wood were situated around the main floor of the shop. Lamps hung from the ceiling over each table, their shades different patterns of tapestry, all in the same tone. A cluster of candles stood bravely in the middle of each table, and the painted walls were graced with framed black and white photographs. Plenty of indoor plants adorned every corner of the abstract floor plan, and some of their vines had even been trained along the ceiling. The front counter was backed by a brick wall, which held several shelves for all of the different cups and saucers for use by those dining in. Each set was unique, and added a flavor to the cafe which was unsurpassed. It’s appeal, lay in it’s attention to detail.
Chemelyn surveyed all of this with a sense of pride. Several years earlier, she had moved to Seattle seeking inspiration for her work. She was an artist. Chemelyn painted mostly in watercolor, and had heard that Seattle contained creative stimulation in excess. Whoever her informants had been, they were right. Though she had come to the city with every intention of staying but a month, Chemelyn had been unable to resist the character of this tiny shop, which had stood empty at the time. Seeing it’s potential, she did the one impulsive thing that she had ever done in her life. She bought it. Lock, stock, and barrel, the shop had become hers in less than a week, it’s paper work closing quickly. Soon after, Chemelyn had placed a call to her best friend, Malone. Malone had been incoherent with excitement when Chemelyn had shared her news with him, and that very weekend, he packed up his New York apartment, and flew across the country. Chemelyn was lucky enough to find an inhabitable apartment in a ancient brick building several blocks away. The truth was, Chemelyn’s apartment was much more than inhabitable, it was downright perfect for her. It sported vaulted ceilings, and a spacious main room, complete with a kitchen. The only other rooms were a bedroom with a balcony and a bathroom. The bedroom came in the form of a loft above the kitchen, it’s stairway winding down to connect with the main floor. The romantic spirit in her, loved the layout.
Chemelyn’s thought were jolted back to reality when Malone’s hand waved in front of her face.
“Earth to Chem!” he cried.
“I’m sorry?”
“Sheesh, where were you just then? Returning to your home planet? I said we’re out of Vanilla mocha. Is there more in the back?”
“Sure. I’ll get it.” she replied, jumping off of the stool which she had been sitting on. Moments later, she returned with the proffered item.
“So, how was your job at The Fremont this weekend? Did Jeanette call you and kiss your feet for filling in for her, yet?” Malone asked, in an amused tone.
“It was alright.....”
“Spill it girl!” Malone commanded, sensing that Chemelyn was not telling all. his friend hesitated, then patted the stool beside her.
“Ok! I was cleaning this one room right? It was on the second floor, and everything was going well, when it came time for me to make the bed.”
“Yeah.....”
“I couldn’t because there were papers on it.”
“So, move them!” Malone waved his hand in the air.
“Will you shut up and let me finish?”
“Sorry.”
“S’ok. Anyway, I DID move them, I stacked them on the bedside table when the top sheet of paper caught my eye. It was a letter. A love letter.”
“Oooo! Really? Go on, go on.....”
“Here’s the catch.....the love letter wasn’t to anyone.”
“Huh?”
“This guy was writing to someone he doesn’t know! He was writing to his future wife. Whoever she is.”
“What?!”
“I know, I know! He was talking about how how he wishes she would hurry up and come into his life, because he’s lonely, and wants to talk to her, or something. I don’t know, he put it a lot better than I just did.” Chemelyn sighed.
“Wow.....What a guy! How romantico!” Malone exclaimed. “For real?” he seemed to need confirmation. Chemelyn shot him a ‘look’ that seemed to say ‘Would I lie about this?’. He turned back to his coffee, and took a sip. “Wow.” he reiterated.
“No kidding! How could you not fall in love with that?” she exclaimed.
“Whoever he is, I wish he was gay!” Malone stated fiercely, eliciting a laugh from Chemelyn.
“His name is Howie.”
“Howie? Hmm.....That’s...unusual.”
“Hey! I like it!”
“You’re just saying that because he captured your attention, unlike most of the men around here.”
“You better watch it mister, or I won’t tell you the rest of the story!” she warned.
“There’s more?!” Malone’s face carried a distressed look, at her purposeful prolongment of her story. She giggled, enjoying keep him in suspense.
“I wrote him back. I sat down, right then and there, and wrote him a letter on the hotel stationary! I stuck it in an envelope and laid it on his pillow.” Malone was speechless.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I thought he was the most wonderful man on the face of the earth, even though we’ve never met. And that I fell a bit in love with him. Then I left him my address.”
“Are you crazy? He could be a psycho for all you know!” Malone chastised, alarmed,
“I’m not stupid, I gave him my PO box.”
“That’s still foolhardy. Romantic to the extreme, but foolhardy.”
“Hey, I need a little romance in my life!”
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