Chapter 181
Sarah POV
Dearest Sarah,
I wonder if you read these emails. I hope so. I like to think so.
I thought of you today when I was in the park. I think I’ve told you before that I love to walk through Woldenburg Park, the one by the mall with all the beautiful trees. I suppose that sounds pretentious, like I think I’m some Thoreau wannabe, but it’s so lovely there; I don’t care if I sound ridiculous.
Anyway, it was pleasant to walk through the trees and think of you, the way you smile, the ways your eyes look like alpha eyes but even better. I think of how both of us grew up without parents to help us. I feel we share that feeling of having to make it through life all on our own.
I suppose that’s why I hope you read these emails. I like this idea that there is someone in my life who’s traveling through the woods with me.
Scott
Dearest Sarah,
Looking back on it, I wish I hadn’t told you we are fated mates. We are, but I’m sure it didn’t sound good when I said it to you. I should have picked my moment better.
It astounds me how well you’ve done in life raising an alpha pup and working for Ella. I mean, Ella is lovely, but I know how, well, specific she can be in discussing her personal needs.
If Chloe hadn’t come into your life, I wonder if we would have just met somewhere like a bowling alley. Then I remember I don’t bowl.
Scott
Dear Sarah,
I’ve done it. I’m reading a poem that I know I should have read years ago, but it’s just so damn long. There’s a bit of Italian at the beginning that basically translates to, “Listen up,” and then there’s this:
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question ...
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
And here’s where I remember why it’s taken me so long to read this thing: it’s so long! “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” is almost 1,100 words! And here I am just trying to understand the opening.
I mean, a patient about to be operated on is a negative thing, right? And invasive. So, you think it’s going to be about going out for some lovely evening, and then Elliot puts “Like a patient etherized upon a table” out there, and what are we supposed to make of that?
Is the scalpel the question? Are we even supposed to be worrying about it before we “make our visit”? I have no idea.
Of course, I’m just assuming you like poetry. Maybe you don’t. But I think you might.
Yours truly trying to make sense of all this,
Scott
Dearest Sarah,
Did you see on the news today? Seven people killed in a pointless traffic accident over on Severni Avenue? Seven people.
I think maybe people aren’t supposed to hear about as much tragedy as we hear about these days. I mean, how much before the wolf or human psyche just turns off and can’t empathize with pain and death anymore? I can feel myself not wanting to be sad for other people, and I feel ashamed, but just how much am I supposed to wake up and mourn the world before I’m allowed to feel my own life?
Is this selfish?
Scott
Sarah,
I was talking today with the protesters in the Eastern Territory about the school revisions. Yes, I do things like that.
Have I ever talked with you about how I make actual money? I don’t think so. A future email!
Anyway, I was talking with them, and they were angry, actually enraged, that human kids should be as well educated as pups! I couldn’t believe it. I mean, they pretended that wasn’t their motivation, but very quickly the whole thing was obvious.
Why do people who have something and enjoy it resent it when others also have it? I’m stumped. Seriously, they’re children, and they should be educated, right? What’s the problem here?
Oh, I saw you on the news today talking about Grace and asking for privacy for a little girl. Pissed me off the way they wanted you to trot her out like a prized horse. I’m so glad you’re protecting her this way.
Yours,
Scott
My Dearest Sarah,
Are you all right? I saw that reporter following you into the department store; I think it was Au Bon Marche. If so, excellent store choice!
Anyway, sorry, back to the point. Are you OK? It looked like the mob that used to chase after the Beatles.
I cannot imagine the pressure you are under regarding the children. It’s clear Grace is headed from some sort of opera stardom, and I hear the same is true for Chloe and wood carving. You know how much werewolves value wood carving, so while she doesn’t perform like Grace is doing, I can only imagine the pressure on both of my nieces to produce superior work.
It is truly a testament to your excellence as a goddess-mother that the girls are doing so well. I congratulate Zane, again, on his choices. If he can bear to hear my name said aloud, please tell him I’m in awe.
You are moonlight made form,
Scott
Dear Sarah,
I saw you on TV again! You’ve gotten wonderfully comfortable in front of the camera, I have to say. And that dress! So perfect for the occasion. Did Chloe and Grace help you pick it out?
Anyway, yes, thank you so much as a wolf to hear about the work you’re doing at the mine. That Melissa Thibodeaux is really something, isn’t she? I can’t imagine someone going against the two of you.
Anyway, you’ve been great again. I’m so happy to know you.
Yours,
Scott
Dear Sarah,
I heard about Grace’s recital, but it doesn’t surprise me she did so well, not at all. Zane is, of course, magnificent, but I do wish you could have met Olivia. She was exemplary, everything a wolf should be and without any of that false modesty so many alphas employ to “make up” for their generic superiority.
Olivia just was herself, happy in her own skin and yet a role model for us all. I admired her greatly. She and I would meet from time to time, you know, just to talk about life. I always treasured her counsel.
Speaking of, is there a chance we could meet for coffee? I have something I want my brother Zane to know, but I’m not sure he would be willing to hear it from me.
Yours sincerely,
Scott
Dear Scott,
I’m going to be out on an errand for the Cavendish Library the day after tomorrow. Would you like to meet for coffee?
Sarah
