Intermission: Fan Mail (IV), Addendum

Author's note: I missed these two letters and with the upcoming challenge, I don't want the sender to wait weeks for a response, so here we go!

After the initial wave of mail, Chloe thought they’d reached the bottom of the pile. But when she got up to refill their lemonade glasses, she noticed two more envelopes peeking out from beneath the couch cushion. “Hey, check this out,” she said, holding them up between thumb and forefinger. “If I hadn’t seen these, some alternate-universe version of us would have thrown out fan mail without ever reading it. That’s, like, a federal crime.”

Riley grinned, settling deeper into the couch. “I hope mine’s from a stalker. They always have the best handwriting.”

Chloe examined the addresses. “One for you, and… one for me. This is getting out of hand.”

“Open yours first,” Riley said, eyes alight. “If it explodes into confetti, I want to die with the image burned into my brain.”

Chloe rolled her eyes but slid a finger under the flap. “Wish me luck,” she said, then unfolded the sheet inside.

The handwriting was unfamiliar—neat, small, each letter pressed with a uniform pressure. She cleared her throat and read,

Chloe,

I just want to say, you’re a better teacher than I ever was. You never abused a student, or made their parents blame them for something that wasn’t their fault. More than that, through being there with Andy, you helped teach him to forgive. To get anywhere near with that Felix, I had to be jammed into the same mind as a... horrifying person, let’s say, and had every mistake I ever made as a teacher, and a human being, reflected back at me in a way that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Then, I had to be fundamentally altered twice, not only losing my masculinity, but also my original name, and my very humanity, to get to a place where Felix could forgive me. This wasn’t because he’s a bad master, but because many of the things I did to him as a teacher are almost unforgivable for how much it trashed his life. All of which is to say, I think you’re doing great, and have been much better with the kids you take care of than I ever was.

Sincerely,
Jamina

Chloe blinked at the page. She ran her finger over the signature, “Jamina,” and let the paper droop a little in her lap.

Riley snickered. “Wow. Another dude-turned-girl? Are we the only ones who came in here as ourselves?”

Chloe blushed and shook her head. “I don’t know. And Jamina’s from the same season as Hailey, I think.”

Riley leaned forward, grinning. “Did she get transformed into a harem maid, or did she get a princess curse?”

Chloe shrugged. “I think… neither? It sounds like she was a teacher—maybe Felix’s teacher. Like the one who was the vice principal before the angel transformation.”

Riley whistled. “Tough gig. I can see how being in the same contest as your own kid—or your own former student—would give you issues.”

Chloe looked back at the letter, feeling a weird, magnetic tug of recognition. “I don’t think Jamina knows I teach kindergarten. I think she thinks I’m some kind of super-powered mentor.”

Riley nudged her with an elbow. “You are, Chlo. If I was five, I’d want you to be my teacher.”

That was too much; Chloe felt her cheeks go from normal to cherry-pink in two seconds flat. “Stop,” she said, shoving Riley’s arm playfully. “You’re just saying that because you want me to bring you snacks.”

Riley, for once, didn’t double down. She just let her hand rest on Chloe’s knee, and the weight of it was more comforting than any words.

Chloe put the letter aside, trying to will the blush away. “Okay, your turn. If it’s a **** threat, you have to promise to frame it for me.”

Riley snorted and opened her envelope. Her eyes flicked over the first lines, then she barked a laugh and read aloud.

Riley,

It may be odd to get mail from a master in another season, but this is important, although hopefully less important than it used to be. I’ve been angry at a lot of people, at least a few of whom deserved it. I’m not going to sit here and claim that forgiveness is the better path, because I’d be a massive hypocrite, seeing as at least one of the people I was furious with I let get eliminated, and while the elimination was brutal, I don’t regret that decision. However, I can assure you that using blame to feel better about something doesn’t work. For awhile I just blamed being in a Harem Hotel season, which could easily result in multiple contestants being transformed against their will in horrifying ways, on the people who I had thought made me interesting enough to attract Harem Hotel.

I can assure you it never made me feel better. All it did was put me in a defensive crouch when the people around me needed more than that, and I put myself in a worse position because of it. Someone almost got eliminated who shouldn’t have been in part because I was too up my own ass. All of which is to say, do not let anger control your life. It’s valid to feel it, but that doesn’t mean it will make anything better, whether it be your grief, or the rest of your situation. Also, don’t blame yourself for what happened to Laura. That was the kind of unmitigated shitstorm of bad luck that is no one’s fault, just a horrific tragedy that destroys everyone around impacted by it.

Sincerely,
Felix

She let the letter drop to her lap and let out a long, slow exhale. “Jesus. The Masters are writing to us, now? Is this like a cosmic HR program?”

Chloe stifled a giggle, but Riley’s joke was halfhearted. She read the letter again, lips moving but no sound coming out.

After a minute, Riley looked over. “You know what’s funny? He’s right. Blaming never helped me. It felt good, for about a day, then it just made everything… heavier. Like I had to be even angrier to keep it going.”

Chloe nodded, still watching her. “Does it make you want to forgive Andy?” she asked, gentle as she could.

Riley picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest. “Already did, babe,” she said. “Life just sucked, and Laura died. But you were there. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Chloe said, “Do you think they’re watching us in real time, or are they a season behind? Because I feel like Felix is just now catching up to your story arc.”

Riley’s face split into a wicked grin. “I hope he’s behind. I don’t want anyone to know what we did with the whipped cream last week.”

Chloe covered her face with both hands, groaning. “That was your idea.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say no.”

There was a minute where they just laughed and poked at each other, breaking the tension that had built up from all the heavy mail. Then Riley sobered, eyes still fixed on the letter in her lap.

“Hey, Chlo?” she said, her voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re scared about the future. The whole baby thing, and if you’re gonna mess up, or if Andy’s gonna be a good dad, or if the universe is just waiting to rip the rug out from under you.” She let the words hang for a second. “But you’re not gonna mess up. Not even if you tried.”

Chloe’s heart fluttered, her breath sticking in her throat. She didn’t answer, just let the words work their way down inside her until she could believe them.

Riley reached for her hand again, their fingers twining together like they’d always belonged that way. “We’ll figure it out,” Riley said. “You, me, Andy. The whole weird family.”

Chloe squeezed back. “Thank you.”

Riley shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”

Chloe leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet. For a moment, the den disappeared, the ticking of the clock faded, and it was just the two of them, held together by a promise and a handful of words.

When they finally pulled apart, Chloe smiled, a little brighter than before. “Let’s stay here a little longer,” she said. “Andy’s probably still crying over his own fan mail.”

Riley laughed, stood, and stretched, her long hair snaking across the floor like a living thing. “He better be. He’s a softie.”

Chloe shook her head. “You’re the worst.”

But when they nestled in each other’s arms in the den, arms around each other, Chloe couldn’t help but smile.