Dear Irene,
After much consideration as to whether to be upset that you have invited yourself over this weekend, I have decided not to be upset. There will be other weekends. The plans I had are not unchangeable. And, when I think about it, it is almost I who am being rude. I have forgotten myself. It has been too long since you have blown into my life with all your storminess, whisking up my skirt, knocking off hats, turning the city on its head. Besides, whatever the occasion for your visit—like this current apocalypse of blizzards, earthquakes, and giant rats invading Queens—let us not fight. Let us make a party of your arrival.
Times may go dark and flood with challenges, but we will make the most of it. Let us make it a tempest of romance. Us against the world, sheltered against the black. I have a stock of candles, cheese, wine, and decadent little delights to revel in! So what if the world ends. We won’t notice.
It is not like this is some zombie apocalypse. So what if it was! Another excuse to bar the doors and dance! When life puts up gallows, it is time for gaiety. Let us dress to the nines and think of exits strategies, toasting the world! “Here is to Cognac! Here is to Champagne! Here is to Bourbon County!” Hell, the walking dead will not run the stores dry. They like vintage brains, not vintage grapes. That god for the uncouth. The unwashed masses hardly know what delicacy is. They would prefer human offal to tins of caviar roe. Well, let them eat brains, Irene.
I am so glad that you are coming. The anguish is only that you overwhelm me, dizzy my senses. I feel small within your arms. It will require wine and huddling together.
No. Those are irrational fears of predictable brevity and a memory that will last long after you are here. It will be quite an adventure. Hopefully this will not be one of your gay times wherein you come, ravage me, and leave me torn with a horrible mess to clean up. You never even leave a note—though I grant, your savage beauty always comes back.
Be gentle. Your greatness is frightening.
Kisses,
Cristina
PS. You have to tell me how your time traveling at sea was. I hear you absolutely took the Caribbean by force! Everyone is talking about you here. Your temper and passion precede you.
~ x ~
