A/N: Wow, I did not expect to get such a welcoming response for this! Thank you to those who reviewed. I hadn't planned on continuing this, but since people have urged me to, I think I like the idea of turning it into a short story or something.
Please review. Thank you.
Dear Mr. Willy Wonka,
It's me, Charlie Bucket. Before you crumple up this paper and burn it, if that's in fact what you would do, please just read this. I know you told me to never contact you or anything. And I know you never want to see me again. But this isn't about me. It's about your child. Our child, whom I think you should meet.
A written response would be great. The address is below.
Dear Mr. Charlie Bucket,
I, Willy Wonka, will consider your request. I do ask you though to please meet me by yourself at the café closest to the chocolate factory on Tuesday the 28th.
The unmistakable seal on the envelope had given it away before I even read the note. I must admit my heart felt as if it was about to burst when I read it. It wasn't from happiness. It was anxiety.
Even as I enter the small coffee place, I'm afraid my heart is going to jump out of my chest. And then I spot him. He's at a two person table in the corner with his back to me. He's wearing a black coat instead of his maroon one that I remember and of course he has on his top hat.
He's so near. After seventeen years of being away, he's actually in the same room as I am. I'm starting to doubt if this was a good idea or not. We left on rather terrible terms. The last time I saw him and got to say anything to him was when he gave our daughter life.
I'm shaking senselessly as I walk towards the table. He doesn't even look up when I stand across from him.
"Is this seat taken?" It's the only phrase my mind could wrap itself around. But it gets his attention. When he looks up, I can't breathe. His appearance is the same, so beautiful - those violet eyes pierce me beneath their stare – but there's something that has changed. I'm not sure what it is. He smiles, and I can't tell if it's real or fake. I've been away from him for so long; I'm not able to tell anymore.
"No, please," he says politely as he motions toward the chair.
I sit and we simply gaze at each other. For me, the past is dug up as I look at him. Maybe he's remembering things as well, recalling everything that was good, and then the event that tore us up.
"So!" he finally exclaims. "Charlie Bucket. It's been fifteen years, hasn't it?"
"Seventeen," I correct quietly. My mouth is incredibly dry. And my throat is closing.
"Right you are. Wow! Time flies, doesn't it?"
"It does. How are you?"
"I'm well. And you?"
A waitress comes and I can't be happier for the break. I order a coffee, and he orders hot chocolate. I need something to clear up my throat. The drink better come fast. It does, and I sip it eagerly. I don't even bother doctoring it up. It is fine black for the moment.
"I see you have a ring on your finger," he says sweetly.
"It will be sixteen years in two months. She is wonderful. She's been a life saver in so many ways to me."
He drinks several gulps of his hot cocoa, and I can see that he is uneasy. What do I do? I'm just as uncomfortable as he is. It doesn't have to be this way.
His gaze feels like stabs; his eyes are so intense and serious suddenly. "I don't understand."
"I know you blame me for that night, and that's okay. I'm alright with that now. But why were you so upset?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, Charlie."
"Do you still blame me? Was there anything you liked about…..sleeping with me that night?"
"I really don't want to talk about it." He seems threatened. And perhaps I am provoking him a bit, but I have to know.
"Tell me. I know we were rather drunk when we did it, but there was something you enjoyed. You did enjoy it. But you got scared afterward." He bows his head, drinks from his cup, and stays quiet. I continue. "It's okay if you were frightened. I was too. I had no idea that we would end up in bed together. But I liked it. And I'm not sorry that it happened. I wanted it to happen again, and again, and again because I loved you! And when you told me you were carrying a child, I was terrified at first. But then I knew it was a gift, a miracle, and that it would bring us closer together. Why didn't you want to be closer? Why did you make me leave? Why didn't you want to see the life we created together? Please! Tell me!"
By this time, I'm shaking and trying to keep the tears off of my face. He continues to look down at his cup, refusing to meet my eyes. I can see that he is trembling as well. There is silence between us for several minutes. I watch as a couple of tears fall from his eyes and onto the table.
"Willy?" I voice gently.
He draws in a quivering breath and lets it out slowly. When he speaks, his voice quakes also and it sounds like he's forcing out the words. "I met you here because I wanted you to give this to the little…..child for me." He sets his cup down and takes out a sealed envelope from his inside coat pocket. He lays it on the solid surface and slides it to me. "I don't want to meet him or her."
"So we had a little girl?"
"Yeah…..we did. Do you want to know her name? And I have pictures with me. You should see what she looks like."
"No, just make sure this gets to her then, 'kay?"
"Willy, please meet her. I think she would really like it if you did."
He shakes and lifts his head to stare at me. The clear tears have left tracks on his cheeks.
"It's not too late. You can still become a part of her life. Don't you want to?"
"Thank you for meeting me here, Charlie. I must be going now though. So much to do at the factory, I can't dilly around all day!"
He stands up and I do the same in response.
"You will make sure she gets it, won't you?"
I take up the envelope and whisper, "I promise."
He nods, puts on a smile that I know is false, and I hear him breathe, "'Kay then. Bye."
I'm left alone, suddenly fearing that I won't see him again. I fear my daughter, our daughter, won't get to see him at all.
I clutch the letter tightly and race after him. I shout, "Please rethink it, Willy. You have our address now."
He does not stop his pace. I vaguely hear him reply, "I might, okay?"
A/N: All feedback appreciated.