Larkin's Letters (3 page)

But now I don’t know, Ryan. I don’t know if I will ever get to experience it again. My time is limited, and I have no idea what the future holds for me.

One thing I do know, Ryan, is that I miss you. Did I ever tell you that the day you left for Los Angeles when you were nineteen, I cried for hours? I did. I cried and cried and cried. I never let you see me cry though. I still had senior year to get through, and I had no idea how I was going to do it without you. My fish. My best friend. But I was so proud of you. I am proud of you and how successful you have become, but you never did really leave me behind. You were always there for me, and you never forgot me. You easily could have. You have traveled the world filming movies, meeting new people, and experiencing new adventures. You could have easily forgotten me.

I want to thank you, Ryan. Thank you for not leaving me behind. Thank you for making it to my high school and college graduations. Thank you for coming to my high school basketball state championship game. Thank you for never forgetting a birthday or an anniversary. Thank you for taking me to your big movie premieres. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being my best friend. Thank you for being so good to me.

Letter #4 - May 9, 2011

Ryan,

It’s been a couple of weeks since I last wrote. I still haven’t told you yet. It haunts me. Why am I so afraid of the one person who will protect me? I have been thinking a lot about time lately. You used to say to me, “Larkin, life is all about timing.” It didn’t really dawn on me how true that is until the past couple of months. Time. Not a big word. But it is definitely a big concept. When you look up the word “time” in the dictionary, it gives you several definitions including: a period with limits, a moment something occurs, an interval, a minute or hour, one’s lifespan. On the other hand, when you look up “timeless” in the dictionary, you find it to mean unchanged, eternal, undying, and ageless. Over the past two months, I have thought more and more about time. It isn’t something you really think about unless you or someone you love is dying.

Do you think time can be timeless? Anyone you ask would probably say no. I would have said the same thing, but these past couple of months, I have tried my hardest to turn the answer to that question into a yes. After all, love can become loveless. Sensibility can become senseless. Morality can become virtueless. So then, why not? Why can’t time become timeless? It’s a long shot, I know. I guess that is why we have memories. Our memories are what make time timeless, don’t you think? I think time is something everyone takes for granted. It is a gift, a privilege. Time is something we should nurture and care for like it is our child. Time isn’t just how it is defined above. It is also, most importantly, the best medicine we could ever have. As you continue to read these letters, and from here on after, I want you to remember one thing: time heals what reason cannot.

The rain was pounding against the bedroom window, and the thunder stirred Ryan from his sleep. As his weary eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could feel her arms wrapped around his chest. He could feel her breathing, and he pressed his nose against the top of her head, taking in the lavender scent from her hair.

“Larkin…wake up. Larkin…” He raised her chin up to bring her eyes level to his.

“Hey, beautiful,” she whispered to him.

“God, you look like an angel.” He pulled her closer to him and pressed his lips against hers.

“Don’t leave me this time.” He pleaded with her.

She grabbed his face with her hands. “I will never leave you, Ryan. I am always here with you.”

“I love you so much, Larkin.”

“I love you too.” She stroked the back of his head as his tears began to release from his exhausted eyes. “I left you something in the drawer of the nightstand.”

“No.” He swiftly rotated his neck from one shoulder to the other. “No. I am not looking. Every time I look away, you’re gone. Not this time. You can’t leave. I am not ready to let you go. Not yet.”

“Yes, you are, Ryan. I won’t leave you. I will always be here.” She wiped a tear away from his cheek. “It’s time, Ryan. Close your eyes.”

“No, I won’t. I want to see you. I need to see you.”

“Close your eyes. I’m right here.” She placed his face
in her hands. “Close your eyes and kiss me.”

He pulled her face to his, closed his eyes, and joined his lips with hers. He breathed as much of her in as he could. As he felt her pull away from their embrace, he opened his eyes. She was gone. Her absence took his breath away, and, as he tried to catch his breath, his chest was squeezing his heart so tight, he swore it was breaking. He sat up, rested his forehead in his hands, and began to weep. He was sure he wasn’t ready to let her go. He was sure he never would be. He was sure he couldn’t live without her.

He had wanted to keep reading her letters last night, but they weren’t helping him. The letters were too personal. They were just conjuring up memories of her. Memories of them together. The memories were what kept him awake. He needed her voice. He needed to feel her.

He looked over at the nightstand to check the time. It was 3:30 a.m. It was still pitch-black outside, and the thunder echoed off of the bay, rattling the pictures on the wall with each rumble. Sleep was his enemy right now. As much as he wanted to dream of her and wake up with her in his arms, he couldn’t bear to feel her slip away from his grasp every time he realized she wasn’t real. But he couldn’t go back to the letters. He needed to escape from them. Instead, he thought maybe a book was just what he needed. He went to his nightstand to grab the novel
Indignation.
He had started it several months ago but never finished it because—well— because there were more important things to deal with at the time. As he opened the nightstand drawer, he couldn’t believe what he saw. He noticed his watch lying on top of Larkin’s manuscript,
Jillian’s Touch
. She had never finished reading it to him. And his watch. He had wondered what happened to it. He had taken it off when he took a leave of absence from acting because he didn’t want to be reminded of all it had meant to him. He had forgotten about it, and when he did think about it, he couldn’t bear to put it back on. Besides, he hadn’t been able to find it. As he picked up the watch and her manuscript, he shook his head in disbelief. There was a small note paper clipped to the front.

Remember, time heals what reason cannot. It’s time, Ryan.

He removed the note from on top of the manuscript and noticed the cover page.

Jillian’s Touch. Screenplay by Larkin James.

He couldn’t believe it.
When did she do that?
he thought to himself. She had always said that she was going to write him the role of his lifetime. He had no idea, but she had started to adapt her manuscript into a screenplay. She always had a way of bringing things together, he thought to himself. She had planted the watch and the unfinished screenplay there. She knew that was where he kept
Indignation
and he would eventually open that drawer to finish reading it. She also knew he couldn’t read when his mind wasn’t clear. That’s why he stopped reading it to begin with. He couldn’t focus. He knew that she knew when the time came for him to open that drawer to read, he was ready. Ready to get back to who he really was. That’s why she came to him. To guide him toward that drawer.

Larkin’s last letter about time struck a chord with Ryan. That, coupled with her ghost, the note that was clipped to the manuscript, and the watch. They were enough to summon another memory. A small memory. An insignificant memory, but, nevertheless, another memory.

Ryan glanced at the watch on his left wrist to check the time. The time was 8:04 p.m. It had been five months since that March night Larkin had read to him, and, although they tried to talk at least once a week since, he hadn’t made any late-night calls.
Where has the time gone?
he asked himself. Larkin hadn’t left his mind since two nights ago when his mom called him to ask if he had spoken to her lately. Unfortunately, he hadn’t spoken to her in about three weeks. He had been in South Africa filming, so their time difference was six hours, and it was hard to coordinate a time to talk between their bouncing up and down. He was sure it sounded like a beaver chucking wood as he chewed each and every one of his fingernails. His plane was scheduled to touch down at 8:30 p.m., but, as the minute hand on the watch kept creeping and creeping toward the six, the knot in his stomach was getting tighter and tighter. As the plane descended into Philadelphia, Ryan watched through the window as the city skyline grew bigger and bigger. And as he thought about what he was possibly going to say to Larkin, he was startled by a strange voice.

“That’s a nice watch you got there,” said the man sitting next to him. He looked over at the strange man. He was probably in his sixties, Ryan thought. He certainly dressed like he was, that’s for sure. He had a paisley shirt adorned with a striped wide tie, and he could see brown trouser straps peeking out from behind his plaid, collarless jacket. He seemed harmless enough, so Ryan acknowledged his compliment.

“Oh, thanks. It was a gift.” Larkin had given him that watch the night before he won the award for best actor one year ago.

“Well, that’s a pretty nice gift. Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Ryan thought this was a strange request, but he obliged and handed over the black and navy-blue watch. He figured the man probably saw how nervous he was acting, and he was probably just trying to make small talk to help calm his nerves.

“Ah, an
Invicta
. These are great watches.”

He was sure the man sitting next to him was considerably annoyed. Ryan couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down.

“Do you know a lot about watches?” Ryan asked, trying to be polite. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to a stranger about watches.

“Yes, probably more than the average person. I’m a jeweler, and I often work on watches too.”

As the man examined it, Ryan could see his interest was piqued at the back of the watch. The man read aloud the inscription on the back. “
Your acting is timeless.
You an actor?” he asked seemingly surprised.

Ryan was thrilled the man didn’t know who he was. “Yes, yes, I am.” Sometimes he thought it would just be easier to say no, but he never could bring himself to lie.

“Really!? That’s pretty interesting! Forgive me if I should recognize you, but I am not a big movie person.”

“No, no forgiveness needed. It’s quite all right. Really.”

“I was wondering why everyone kept looking back here. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me, but now I know they were looking at you,” the man said as he chuckled. “Well, you must be pretty talented if all these people know who you are.”

“I don’t know about that,” replied Ryan. Despite his fame and good looks, he was a very humble man.

“Well, whoever got you this watch must think your acting is pretty special,” said the man as he handed the watch back to Ryan. While his hands trembled, he struggled to put the watch back on. He was so shaky; Ryan figured the man probably thought he was on something.

As the plane landed and taxied to the terminal, Ryan shook the stranger’s hand. “It was a pleasure talking with you, sir.”

“Likewise, I’ll be sure to look you up and check out one of your movies. What’s your name?”

“Ryan, Ryan Boone. Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Ryan weaved his way through the airport terminal with his head down like a raging bull. He was in a hurry, and he didn’t want anyone to recognize him. He wasn’t in the mood for admirers. As he entered into baggage claim, he again checked the time. It was 8:45 p.m. He grabbed his bag off the baggage belt, hailed a cab, and started the last leg of his almost twenty-four-hour journey to see Larkin. She didn’t know he was coming, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say to her. He only knew he had to be there for her, like she had always been for him.

It was 9:17 p.m. when the cab pulled up to the hotel. It was an oppressive August evening in Philadelphia, and the darkness of the night cast an unusual eeriness in Ryan’s gut. He couldn’t quite understand this feeling he was having. He was anxious to see Larkin, but, at the same time, he didn’t know what to expect when he saw her. She didn’t know that he knew, and he still didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t know if he was more angry at her for her not telling him herself, or if he was more frightened at what was to come next. The cab dropped Ryan off at the front entrance of the hotel. It was a nice hotel, not like the luxury hotels he normally stayed at, but it was nice. It was your average hotel with red and black checkered carpets and lavish crystal chandeliers hanging every five yards from the cathedral ceiling. As he entered through the lobby, he noticed a bar with about a half dozen people to his right, and the check-in desk was to his left. Thankfully, his mom had told him Larkin’s room number so he didn’t have to waste any time trying to get that information from the staff. The elevators were just past the check-in desk, and he made sure to not make eye contact with anyone as he passed by. It felt like an eternity waiting for the elevator door to open, and, as it finally did, he was relieved to see no one else got on it with him. The doors opened up on the fourth floor, and Ryan purposely took his time walking to her room. He studied each room number on the doors as he passed by, and, as the numbers kept getting closer and closer to hers, he could feel his breaths getting shallower and shallower. He had never been so scared before in his life, but he needed to be strong. He knew Larkin was going to need him. He had spent the past decade playing all sorts of roles, but he realized this was going to be the biggest role of his life. This was reality. No awards will be given out for this performance.