"They're gone!"
She sat on the wooden bench that was the only piece of furniture on the rooftop of the apartment building where they lived. She felt her knees wobbly and weak so she thought it best to steady herself with the support of that wooden bench. It was wide enough to lie down, and so she did.
Red exhaled sharply as she gazed at the dark drapery of the night sky filled with stars. Just like that, the day went on to an end.
Was it the same day when Andrew pulled her hair tie off of her hair? Was it the same day they almost died with exhaustion from running lapses after lapses around the track oval and playing softball afterward?
Yep.
It's the same day.
And it was also this day when out of the blue, a not-so-common hailstorm occurred followed by a spectacular display of aurora borealis-like lights, and further followed by a flying carriage which she had personally ridden on going home.
And the men said it wasn't magic.
'Whoa.'
'I must be losing my mind.'
'Maybe it's just my imagination gone loose.'
But the solid, real letter was still clutched tightly by her own hands. 'It's real.'
She sat upright and inspected the letter. One side was already partially torn from her earlier attempt.
She could feel her heartbeat drum like the most powerful percussions. She wetted her lips and braced herself before she pulled the contents of the envelope in one single flick of her fingers.
Everything appeared so extravagant and luxurious. She even smelled the letter to confirm her suspicion. 'Yep, it's scented.'
'Dad must be loaded.'
'But…'
Before anything else happened, she found herself already crying – sobbing – with so many emotions.
'They said this letter was from my father.'
'Is it really him? Or some conman?'
'I'm so scared to be disappointed again.'
Red mustered all her courage – eyes still blurred from tears – as she unfolded the letter with trembling hands.
She inhaled sharply at first before reading.
Because of the tears, the task had gotten even more challenging. 'Ugh, damn tears.'
It read:
----
My dearest daughter Princess Meredith,
First of all, your mother and I would like to apologize for not being there when you were growing up.
Believe me when I say that it is for your own welfare that we had to resort to this option. The time is now ripe for you to rejoin us here in our empire.
We are all busy preparing for your Coming-of-age Ceremony which will happen on the eve of your eighteenth birthday six months from now.
I am hoping that you will be here before then.
I am writing in advance to give you ample time to make the necessary arrangements before you leave your current abode. Say all your farewells.
I am excited to finally be with you, my precious daughter, Princess Meredith.
I will be sending someone to check on you every month. Feel free to go with them when you are ready to meet us.
Remember, you should be here on the eve of your eighteenth birthday. You are the celebrant after all. The earlier you arrive, the better.
Until then, take care of yourself and be safe.
Remnar von Aempleforth
-----
It was signed by 'His Majesty, The Emperor'.
Red felt as if her brain had just melted into a thick mushy soup. She seemed to have lost completely her ability to comprehend. She also did not know what part of the letter she would want to digest first.
'No, first, I need to check if this letter is valid.'
When she was born, her Nana had told her that her father left a message for her. It was hand-written and the only memento he had left behind for her.
It was a small note which she had always kept in her box of treasures inside her room, but thanks to technological advancement, she could always have access to a photo of it which she always saved in her phone's gallery.
Without delay, and with still trembling hands, she fetched her phone from her bag and scanned through the photos in her gallery. She went straight to the separate folder where she saved the special photos.
'Oh my God. This is the moment of truth.'
Her tears still flowed down her cheeks.
The letter she had received today was also hand-written. All she needed to do was to compare the handwriting of this one versus the note she was keeping these past seventeen years of her life.
Side by side, her eyes scrutinized the photo and the letter repeatedly and alternately.
All she could conclude was that…
"It's the same. The handwriting's the same!"
As she bit her lower lip, more tears fell down her cheeks. She started sniffling the snot that had been clogging her reddish button nose.
The next course of action was to decipher the meaning of the message. Was it in codes? Why was it so hard to understand?
Coming-of-age ceremony?
Apologize for not being there for her?
Meet them?
'Who are they? Does he have another family?'
'Why is it signed by the emperor? What emperor?'
'Some more strange things, huh?!'
'But it's true that my birthday is exactly six months from now. Another proof that it must be from someone who knows my birthday, which is not a lot of people.'
Her palms found their way to her damp cheeks. She swiped her also damp, sweaty palms against her tear-stricken face in an attempt to make herself a little bit more presentable.
"What to digest next? He's rather sweet in his letter – calling me princess and precious and all that fatherly act. But not once did he pay me a visit nor give me a call. He wasn't here when I got deliriously sick with a high fever. It was Nana who always stuck with me through thick and thin."
She muttered out all the hurt her heart had been nurturing all seventeen years of her life.
"Who's sweet-talking?"
A male voice intruded her reverie.
"Oh my God!" She jumped up from being comfortably seated on the wooden bench.
The intruder came closer with the intention of intruding some more. She hastily folded and shoved the precious letter – her newest treasure – back into its envelope. She itched to lock herself in her room to deposit this addition to her box of treasures.
"Why are you here? Stay away! It's private and personal!" Her tone suggested that the intruder's presence was unwarranted.
The intruder was none other than…
"Andrew."
"Why are you here?" She repeated when he did not answer.
He took a few more seconds of silence. Rather than answering, he closely inspected her puffy eyes, wet cheeks, and reddish button nose. "You're crying. Am I the culprit? Are you still mad at me? Here."
He shoved a paper bag to the sniffling Red. It grazed her arm and it felt warm to the touch.
"Your favorite."