Dear Jonathan

Dear Jonathan

I know there is no way to forgive me after what I have done to you and many many others but I hope to explain myself to you soon. As I currently stand I just want to inform you of where I am and why I am here and why I may never return. With how much Miss Godwill hates me, I doubt it will be long before I am gone. And no one gonna believe that a 88 year old is capable of murder. But trust me there is evil in those eyes and 0 smile lines. I don't think she knows how to smile.

Your probably wondering how I ended up in Miss Godwill house in the countryside of Florida. In debt. Jobless. No wife. Having lost you.... And who Miss Godwill is. She is the very angry 5'2 irish old lady I am currently stuck with. Well, I thought I finally explain it to you. As you know last summer your Grandad died. And only left me 2 things. My little black notebook with my bucket list from when I was 16 and £20,000 to complete it. Well, I didn't tell you everything. There was only one thing I couldn't tick off that list 'Marry Rose'. So well in a haze from the grief, I book a ticket down to her. That didn't happen the way I plan. Let me start from the day I arrived.

I remember the air most clearly. I step off the bus and it hit me like a wet towel. It was thick and streamy like walking through a bog. I recognise it so clearly from my youth. I remember kissing Rose goodbye and I never went home. Not even to see my parents, maybe that is why I didn't get a lot in his will. See Rose live out in the deep deep countryside on a little potato farm. I had to pay an extra $100 just so the bus driver would stop there.

Rose house was always beauitful with carved stone walk way, beautiful blossom trees and vines climbing up every wall. It looks like a fairy tale and felt like one to. But only if I knew it was actually the witches candy cottage. I walked up anxiously. I knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Three times. And waited. And no one. I knocked again. Once. Twice. Three times. No One. The second I spent felt like minutes. I felt heart broken. I went to try one final time. Once. The door swung open. And there in all 5'2 of her foulness stood a very displeased old lady. With long ghost-white hair. And clothes even older then she was. One slipper on and one in her hand. She scowled at me.

'You'

There stood Miss Godwill. Who was known for never smiling, or laughing or giving to any sort of charity. Her kids loved her but no one ever knew why. And out of everyone in town. She hated me the most. And I have't given the reason why I have ended up at her front door. She is the mother to the love of my life, to my distaste.

'Hi Miss Godwill. Is Rose home?'

I said politely hoping I wasn't counting my days.

'oh, Rose is dead'

My world was crushed. I felt every single shard of the sky fall into my palms and cut deep into my veins. My heart sank deep into the earth. And there was no rain, or wind, or sun, or heat. Just the knowledge that the person who was holding everything together. Was gone. Leaving everything left to crumble.

'What?'

I ask starting to shake. The old witch didn't even blink. Voice didn't change. No clear sign of any emotions.

'She was on the way to see you. Didn't even make it past the freeway. It was a hit and run'

She was coming to see me. I even didn't know about this.

'What? why?'

None of this made any sense at the time.

'Cause you don't end a 5-year long relationship over text'

Which in my defence, we were long distance.

'You better be going now'

She shoos me off like a stray cat.

'I don't have any way to stay. And I don't have any money'

She looked me up and down. Disgusted at me. I guess she never forgave me. I understand why.

'I kinda thought Rose would let me stay'

She scowled again. And tilted her head to let me in. She lead me to the living room in angry silent and then headed out.

It was a horrible design that belong 100 years ago and was probably made 100 years ago. With a large brown couch that was covered in coffee and tea stains. The wall paper was peeling away like it was trying to escape. A large painted irish landscape hanged over the mantel piece. The only nice thing in this room was the mantal piece as it was covered in frame pictures of Rose smiling. She was stunning in every single one. With her long red hair and deep brown eyes. 10 minutes later Godwill walked back in with tray full of tea. Clanged it onto the table infront of me making it spill over a little. And heaved into her big leather chair. Pointed away from me.

She stays silent the entire hour it took me to word vomit and explain to her everything. My Dad died. The guilt. The grief. How much I loved Rose. My wife. My job. How I gave it all up for her. And how I'm so sorry. I explained the will and the money. She eventually spoke up.

'So you're telling me. You left your wife, child and a job to travel down just to find out she dead. Because you felt guilty over never visiting your Dad in hospital. By Jesus'

She said with disbelief and disapproval never once bothering to look at me. All I could do was nod as the auguish ate me up from inside like a swarm of flies. A harsh silence settled over us like it was judgement day. I guess it was in sense. Finally, confessing all my sins.

'What happened to all your coins then'

She finally span in her chair to look at me. I swallowed a stone in my throat and pull out an engagement ring. I blow all of Dad money on this stupid for a girl I killed. It was the first time I have ever heard Miss Godwill laugh. And it was right at me.

'You never grew up, kiddo.'

I stayed silent. That day didn't go as planned.

'Fine you can stay here until you got enough to go home and grovel that family of yours'

I looked up. Maybe she wasn't evil.

'on one condition....You never come back after you leave'

I nodded. Still choking on the stone of guilt in my throat. She got up silently. Went up the stairs. Leaving me with 2 steaming cups of tea that smelt of Rosemary. I stayed there just grieving at all that I have lost.

So that the story. Of how I have ended up staying with Miss Godwill.

Love Dad

P.s. Tell your mum I'm sorry