Hi! I usually do Star Wars and Indiana Jones fics, but the Lake House was such a wonderful, beautiful movie that I want to write on that too.
This fic is rather lengthy, but please bear with me and read through it. Then click that little button at the bottom of the page and review!
Sandra and Keanu rock!
Entry I Feb 13, 2006
Today I received another letter from Alex. He said he would wait for me for two years and 1 day, he wouldn't mind at all. As long as he could meet me.
I hate this cruel act of fate, to put us 2 years apart. We can't even meet! Even he exists as a distant memory, or he waits two years. Well, at least Fate created the mailbox, our only means of communication. I really pity him. Just for me, he has to wait for two years, while to me, it's only one day. If Fate had to, just had to put us apart, it should've put me in 2004; him, 2006. Then I would suffer instead of him, but I don't mind. Because I love him.
I really don't know why. I still remember that day in 2004, when I turned 32. Morgan had organised a birthday party for me, somehow managing to invite a whole lot of people as well as my relatives. One of them was Alex. Obviously I didn't know that 2 years later, I would be writing to him almost everyday, and thinking of him almost every waking moment. But I liked him then. He had dark hair, deep, brown eyes and a really amazing, somewhat impish smile. He had been so charming, so gorgeous. I realize I probably sound like some adolescent thinking of a first love, but really, because of his words, because of his looks, because of his smiles, I love him. I had offered to dance with him then, I don't know why. It occurred to me that that party was arranged by Morgan, for me, if he saw me dancing with another man...that thought crossed my mind for a fleeting moment, but vanished as Alex grinned and took me in his arms. It felt so wonderful; even now, I can remember the feel of his sleeve against my skin, his arms encircled loosely around my waist. Morgan never kisses me, or hugs me, and rarely displays any affection. He is always so absorbed in his work that he hardly has time for me.
Alex and I danced in the fading moonlight, then as the song, This Never Happened to me Before by Paul Mccarthney, neared its end, I lifted my head and gazed at him. Then we kissed. His lips were against mine; his hand rested on my hip. I heard my blood thunder in my ears and threaded my hand through his hair. That kiss was passionate, poignant, bittersweet; bitter because we each had our own lovers( or something like that, at least), sweet because for the time being, we didn't have to care about that at all. That kiss had a great impact on me, and I remember every detail. After I started writing to Alex, it became even more meaningful, and memorable.
I don't know why I believe that's him. Maybe I just want to. The only proof--if that's what it's counted as--is his word. For all I know he might be an old, wizened man, with ten children and eight dogs, writing just for the sake of doing so. Or worse still, he could be some six-year-old who borrows his father's fountain pen and some sheets of light blue deckered paper just because he wants to win a dare. he might not even be a 'he'!
But he sounds so sincere, and I can't wait to meet him tomorrow, to talk to him, to eat with him, to finally sit opposite him and gaze into his eyes after two agonising years. I really hope he waited, and that he's that nice guy oozing laconic charm that his letters portray him as.
Kate Forster
Entry II Feb 14, 2006
Suddenly, I'm afraid. What if he doesn't like me? What if, in those two years, he had found another girl, and he was going to tell me that three hours later? What if he didn't even wait for me?
He arranged for us to meet at Il Mare, this lovely French restaurant in downtown Chicago. I heard they have lovely seared foie gras and escargot is their specialty. It is really expensive though. Alex is clearly out to impress me, and I'm not sure if that's a good sign.
I've already decided to wear later. I had chosen it yesterday, after I had read his letter. It's bright red, and quite--how do you say it--wide at the shoulders, exposing quite a fair amount of flesh and cleavage. Okay, maybe I'm out to impress him too.
I really want it to go well. I want to see him later, handsome and dapper. I want to muse over the menu with him, our heads bent, so close that they almost touch. I want to eat while talking to him, gazing at him, at that face so familiar though I last saw it two years ago. After that, I want to feel his hand over mine, and squabble with him over who to pay the bill, only to have him decline politely, always the chivalrous guy, and insist on paying himself. I want him to hold my hand as we walk towards the carpark, to give me a goodbye kiss and tell me that he really enjoyed himself. I really want all that to happen.
It's been so long since i've felt like this. My love for Alex, even though i have only met him once, grows at an incredible rate. I haven't had a serious relationship for a long time, except Morgan, of course, although i don't really consider it so. It's one-sided liking, definitely not mutual; personally, I think he's rather horrible. He is only pleasant when around me, other than that, he's fussy, bossy and childishly petulant. Because of that, our 'relationship' is hardly progressing, not that i want it to.
But for Alex, it's different. When I think of him, this pleasant feeling wells up inside me, and the time he kissed me comes back to me in flashes of memory.
I have to get ready now, so I can't write any more.
Kate Forster
Entry III Feb 14, 2006
It's half-past seven, he was supposed to arrive half an hour ago. To get my mind off him, I'm scribbling furiously on my napkin with a pen the maitre'd so kindly provided me with.
I can't believe he's not here yet! He promised; he said he wouldn't mind waiting two years; he seemed so desperate to see me! Yet he's not here!
Oh god, I need to calm down, a lone tear just trickled down my cheek and landed on the table and there's this idiot at the next table casting covert and somewhat lascivious glances at me, making me feel uncomfortable. It's only seven-thirty, I know how bad the traffic is in Chicago, he might be stuck in a jam somewhere, impatiently glancing at his watch now and then while trying to rush here.
I have to be patient. He will come. He has to come.
Kate Forster
Entry VI Feb 16, 2006
I waited, until about nine. He didn't come.
It's obvious that he isn't serious about this, isn't serious about me. I just wrote a letter to him, ending our relationship once and for all. Now, I just want to forget him, and continue with my life. He has hurt me enough already.
Yesterday, I was so miserable. i really thought he had cared, that he would go. Was it really too much to ask for? I was obviously disillusioned. It won't work, and it never will. I cried myself to sleep last night, and at the hospital, I told Anna everything, choking with sobs. She was furious at him, called him a bastard and said other things that made me laugh. I felt a little better, and now I'm calm and composed, ready to forget him.
And even though I still think of him quite often, I will forget him, eventually. And I will, I hope I will, go on with my life as if nothing happened at all. People like him, are just not worth thinking about.
Kate Forster
Chapter 2 will be posted soon, and don't worry, Alex and Kate will be together!
Please review!