To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Valentine's Day

Dear Leroy,

I recall the two of us coming to a consensus about the unnecessary nature of Valentine's Day some time ago while you were over at my apartment for dinner on a random evening very much like today. As I write this email, the clock is ticking and with every passing second, edges dangerously close to the fourteenth of February, which the majority of human beings regard as a day to express one's romantic or platonic affections. More so the former than the latter.

Si Yin and Ariq (a classmate of mine) have made plans for a Single's afternoon tea tomorrow, and my best friend had the audacity to refuse me an invitation. Something along the lines of 'people like you make us feel lonelier than we already are.' It was quite the shock of my life.

Apart from being excluded from tea parties, I suppose nothing much has occurred over the past couple of weeks. I understand that we haven't been keeping up with the daily video calls, which, given our busy schedules, have been rather idealistic in the first place.

I am writing this email because it has come to my attention that our everyday texts have seemed to lose their authenticity and initial spark over the past month or so. Indeed, we have been confiding in one another about our new experiences—myself, currently in the second semester and somehow given a spot in the top twenty academics, and you in your brand-new restaurant, production-kitchen life. I find it odd how the fireworks of new information can settle and how, after hearing the loudness of a boom, silence can become further quiet in the darkness of the night.

I sent you something. A week ago, perhaps. It should arrive very soon, if not by today. Inside includes a letter. Actually, this is the letter. I'd kept a digital copy because, well, why not. And sending it to you here may or may not eternalize it, seeing that I am unsure if you'd somehow misplace my writing and, knowing you, would have liked to have a second read. Not because you like reading, but because you probably would not understand it the first time.

That was a joke, if you could not tell.

Either way, Leroy. I know what we said about Valentine's Day. I know I said, as I'd once believed, that there should be no special occasion for the true expression of love for what is true should, therefore, be practiced in every present moment. I now understand the importance of special occasions; the strange spark of anticipation in waiting, looking forward to something quite out of the ordinary and perhaps finding it a celebratory event that one can somehow experience alongside the rest of the independent world.

Sometimes, things like that are nice.

As such, I would like to wish you a very happy valentine's day.

Yours,

Vanilla

P.S. I do hope you never check your email because now that I've written this, it is terribly embarrassing but I've also already sent out the parcel and good god, how I regret decisions.

_________________________

Hey it's a postcard.

You know I don't do leisure. But Annie made me wheel her around some museum with whale bones hanging overhead. It took us four hours to finish two wings. They have six or something. It's really boring. I spent most of the time thinking how you'd react to everything. Basically, I spent four hours fantasizing.

The photo on the front, it's a left-spiral conch. For you, I made the effort to read the first three words of every description label thing. This one caught my eye. You're a nerd, so you probably know why. Left ones are rare. They say if I blow into this, the one you're yearning for the most will answer your call.

You coming yet?

Leroy

_____________________

Dear Leroy,

I'm never quite sure if you're suited for writing postcards, if, at all, but I found myself enjoying the one you wrote me. Thank you. I didn't mention it over text or our call last night even though I discovered it in the mailbox after dinner because it seemed oddly sacred. Like this was a private conversation to be continued elsewhere, undisturbed by the convenience of technology and our daily, everyday conversations. They feel special. And, I daresay, oddly romantic.

I have, in turn, decided to write you a card. There is no specific occasion that should warrant the writing of this handcrafted masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Miki was the one who'd suggested cardstock, which is the medium weight paper I am using to write this card. The shade of it, I'd picked, and had the specific craftsman ship it over in a perfect padded envelope. The wax seal is my weakness. I've always wanted to send a card or letter with something of such nature.

Finals are in two weeks. I myself am in a decent position to rising up the ranks with yet another flawless report card. Have you heard? Chef Lindy might be officially replacing Headmaster Birchwood as headmistress. Violet has been particularly distraught. I am doing well. Everyone misses you. Layla Tenner is valedictorian, naturally. The graduation ceremony is in a month. Prom is two weeks after that.

Everyone misses you.

Yours,

Vanilla

______________________

Missed Call

Sry I was in the kitchen

U ok?

No worries, it slipped my mind for a second

It's your break now isn't it?

Yeah

U wanna call?

Kinda noisy here but

Oh no it's fine

Did you see the image I sent?

The parcels—they've all been returned

That's why you haven't been receiving them

Good god

Wait what

What about the address?

I'll tell you tonight, perhaps

At what time should we call?

I get off at 6.30 my time so

In about four hours then? But you have an appointment with Doctor Susanne every Thursday evening.

Shifted it to tomorrow. Siegfried can't make it.

How's everyone?

Is it finally getting a little warmer, by the way?

Yes we're all good

I just have something else to talk to you about

Er

Okay

Is it bad?

Not exactly

Just a little shocking.

Possibly disappointing too

So is it finally getting a little warmer?

Alright I'll see you tonight

Fuck you

Cliffhangers

Leroy!

Kidding

Anyway

Yeah, it's hot as fuck

Can't wait for a snowstorm

Snowstorms don't just happen in London, Leroy

They will if u come

;)

_________________

I am so very sorry

The past three days have been terribly busy and I know that isn't much of an excuse, but I am well aware of how understanding you are of my priorities and the importance I place on both my studies and interpersonal relationships with the people who I might be working with in the near future. Opportunities, mainly. You understand what I mean. I have something to tell you that has been eating at my concentration for the past couple of days: it appears that a transfer student has been having an unnaturally intensified interest in myself. She has been following Si Yin and I around and deliberately swapping gardening or production kitchen duties with the rest of our classmates to match my own schedule. It is extremely strange. Quite recently (yesterday evening), she dropped by Cinnamon lodge and personally knocked on my door with bottles of beer and asked if the two of us could spend some time together!

I have been wanting to speak to you about this but, for the abovementioned reasons, I haven't quite been able to. The recent escalations have somehow warranted some form of action, so. She has also openly invited me to stay over at room in Hudson. Yes, I forgot to mention that. Well... I hope you read this soon. Oh I can envision you laughing already.

What are you up to today?

Waiting for you

Let's call?

_________________

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]  

Subject: [Blank]

I attached a pdf of the restaurant's new menu. Tell me what you think. I know you'll find problems with it anyway. You asked if I could accurately make out the ingredients for at least half the menu. I mean, I tried. Susanne keeps me on tabs for this new thing I'm taking. I'm fine. She says it needs a month or so to really work. Siegfried wasn't too happy about that. Probably why he upped the complexity of the menu in the first place.

Not like I was gonna do him any better.

Didn't know how to tell you over the last call we had (a week ago?) but I think Annie's got a girlfriend. Dk why I can't just tell you this over text but we haven't been sharing much lately. Just everyday things. Anyway, the girlfriend. She's the therapist I've been telling you about. She hasn't said a thing but sometimes you just... know? I guess. They've always been close. Like, going out for lunch close. Sometimes, she doesn't even check in on me in the day because there's someone keeping her occupied. Which is good. They had dinners recently. I usually do take-outs and have them in my apartment, so it doesn't make a difference. She's happy. I'm cool with it. That's all.

My birthday's coming up. You finally surprising me with a snowstorm?

___________________

Dear Leroy,

Happy Birthday. I took extra care to arrange for the parcel to arrive on this exact day, and also, that it is sent to the correct address. I hope you are fond of it. Needless to say, it is, as per my every gift, an extremely practical one. It may or may not add to your delight that the sheets are tried and tested—meaning, I have a set of my own and have found them extremely comfortable. Sleep is essential and having the most soothing bedsheet, accompanied by a matching pillowcase and quilt cover can turn any bed into a nest of comfort, I assure you. Well, at the very least, we are in some way connected while being apart. I hope you find them to your liking.

Oh, the other thing. A thermos! Perfect for rainy days and a time when tea comes in handy, especially when you're living in the part of the world that's known for tea. I hope you're keeping warm and healthy.

Yours,

Vanilla

_______________________

Hey

I know you're mad, so I wrote a letter.

I'm sorry you had to find out about it that way. You know everything now; I have nothing else to hide. Everything I said over the call, I swear. It's all I have. You know how I am with things like these. I can't bring myself to tell you things I know you will worry about. And I'm okay with it. With being alone most of the time and dealing with things that way. It's not just me—you too. You said it yourself; that it's not about needing each other. Which makes sense 'cuz the time we spent apart has played a huge part in realizing how important it is that even without you, I have to be whole. Like, I can't be un-whole without you. That just means I have issues with myself. Or that I'm dependent on you. Which I realize isn't actually a good thing to be.

I suck at essays 'cuz they never really know what my point is. Point is, I don't know my point. I just wanted to let you know that I'm starting to become okay with this. With the disappearing taste. With not cooking. With people giving up on me in the industry 'cuz it only means that I can walk on my own. Find my way. My way.

I know it's something we'll never get over with. That I hide things.

It's just really hard to change.

Leroy

You still love me though.

Right?

_______________________

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Application

Attachment: exam.pdf

Dear Leroy,

Thank you for the talk this morning. It has been long since our last, despite the heightened need for one in light of our current standing with each other. Attached is the application for the examination you wish to be taking, and the prior steps and requirements that you need to be meeting before the first screening. I've also included a brief instructional manual on where and how you may obtain a first aid certificate.

That aside, I can bravely, and most certainly say that I am both extremely proud and delighted to hear of your new pursuit. You have known for the past year or so, just how little I associate your worth with anything related to the culinary world. That you have decided upon a path of your own and are in the midst of following through is a whole-hearted relief. I wish you the best of luck; only because everything else, you seem to already possess.

You have always been fairly mature in your thought process, despite embodying the audacity of a fool and being the epitome of a shameless criminal. It is one of the reasons why I respect you and think of you as an equal. Not that, well, I don't think of others in the same way. You know what I mean. Bear in mind, this would not be one of the reasons why I love you. That should never be explained.

Now that you are on your way to rooting yourself in fresh, novel soil, I am at ease. You are going to love it, Leroy. You are going to love the you that has always wanted to be you.

Vanilla

P.S. Finals are coming up and I'm partly glad we're on a break because I cannot afford to drop anywhere below my current CGPA. Chef Marseille says that I am to be seventh place by my third year of study. The campaigning for club elections is next week. You know I'd like to be changing things in the Chronicle. This is miles out of my comfort zone but I feel so, so liberated. How strange it is to be fond of power and control.

_____________________

Hey, I sent you my new address, right? They have a post office nearby and they sell some weird-ass cards, so I thought, why not send you one. Raul's graduating, right? I don't have anything for him. But I guess you can relay a message? All the best. Something along those lines. The exam was ez. Kidding, I worked my ass off.

Haven't spoken to Siegfried in a while. Thought it would be funny to send you a postcard with a random dude in the front that looks better than him on TV. Annie's been asking about you. Told her you're fine. That you're gonna kick-ass for SOY. I mean, it's your last year.

Leroy

________________________

Happy Birthday, dumbass

Right on time!

I am thoroughly surprised.

I factor in the time difference every year

What are u talking abt

Haha

I know

Thank you

How are you up so early?

Don't worry I'm going straight back to bed ;)

Enjoy your day

Sleep soon

Stop studying

Nerd

You are a fool, Leroy Cox

I shouldn't have gotten you those sheets

How worn are the shoes by now?

[Photo]

Lol

In less than two months!

They're great

Wear them everyday

Your gift should be at your doorstep by sundown or something

Oh!

Oh I wasn't quite

Expecting something from you

What the

It's your birthday

Dumbass

Well

I would have been happy with a mere call

K I'm

Calling you every 10 minutes for the rest of the day

Please don't

You are a disaster

Oh god Leroy

No

No stop

STOP CALLING ME

_________________

Merry Christmas, Leroy.

This card was hand-painted by my god aunt, Giselle. You met her over dinner at my place two years ago. Do you remember how upset you were, that evening? I don't think I've ever had to face the severity of such humanly emotions, whether they belong to somebody other than myself. That one could be so afraid of loving someone else more than the latter loves them; it was a question, a dilemma, a fear that I had never thought of entertaining.

It is with the wisdom and power of hindsight that I am able to reflect upon the cold, brittle surface that I was so fond of glazing over, like the surface of a frozen lake.

There is some truth in the novels that write about foolish love. I cannot deny the unexplainable phenomena that allows or perhaps even, to a certain extent, guarantees the loss of reason and the giving of way to the beat of the heart. But what I am about to do is offer an alternative explanation—an account, a description, an observation—to the subjects of love.

I do not speak of infatuation or obsession. I have, over the years and much academic research later, come to fathom or conceive the presence of a greater form of love. This Love; it is not foolish. Neither does it steal from our limited sources of reason and rationality. Nor would it command its subjects to make terrifying, unsound decisions arising from invalid conclusions.

Once advanced, this Love is more than wisdom and intelligence combined. It is a worldly view of what it means to be human. That at some point, in which certain, but not all beings or entities, may experience a higher knowledge with Love's aid and that they will drive themselves (not be driven) to greater heights.

Having felt what I felt for you then, I now see how foolish I was. It is in present time, and with distance and a calm, gentle wave, that I see how the surface of a frozen lake would reflect nothing but the perceiver. That is should be foolish to expect anyone looking into it to see past it, let alone understand it. I did not think you understood me, back then. I do not think you may understand me now. And I most certainly do not think you will understand me in the future—but perhaps that is precisely the crux of the matter.

I was not letting myself be understood.

For that, I am terribly sorry. Sorry that you have had to be facing something akin to your reflection and nothing beyond the cold, harsh surface, in search for someone behind it. I am sorry. I don't apologize enough, unlike you. I am sorry for that too.

The card is a tribute to my god aunt's most famous painting back in her days as an abstract painter. Before she regained her vision. I was lucky enough to witness it once in my lifetime. The real painting.

I must say, those self-righteous interpreters who attributed the blackness of it all to the blind characteristic of love should really re-assess their thought processes. It is not so much the lack of colour that makes the painting so blind and lacking of vision or clarity but the very purity of it that adds to the painting a focus that paradoxically extends to the edges of the canvas in an all-encompassing whole. It engulfs, overpowers, but most importantly roots the viewer into nothing and everything at the same time.

You're probably confused.

I think all I am trying to say is: thank you. For having loved me. Or if you still do; for loving me. Thank you.

Vanilla

__________________________