Dear Seraphina Read online

  DEAR SERAPHINA

  A NOVELLA

  AVERY BISHOP

  RMS PRESS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Epistolary fiction is nothing new—Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is told through letters, while Bram Stoker’s Dracula uses letters, journal entries, newspaper clippings, and telegrams—but it’s also something you don’t often see. Mainly because it can be difficult to tell a story this way, especially one that’s meant to be suspenseful.

  Many years ago, working as an editor at a magazine, I had the idea for a story told all in cover letters from a writer sending stories to an editor. Like all writers, this writer wanted to get published, but as the story went on, it became clear that the writer was so obsessed with getting published that it put the editor and his family’s life in danger.

  (That story, by the way, was called “Persistence.”)

  With Dear Seraphina, I wanted to try something a bit different, telling the story entirely through letters, email, and progress notes. I wanted to play with readers’ expectations and emotions, while, at the same time, I wanted to add in a few good twists.

  I had a lot of fun writing this novella, and I hope you, dear reader, have a lot of fun reading it.

  A.B.

  DEAR SERAPHINA

  PART ONE

  JANUARY 17

  Dear Seraphina,

  The first movie I saw you in was Wildcat. This was a while back, maybe four, five years ago. I didn’t see it in the movie theater. Who has the money for that anymore? I certainly don’t! But it was playing on TV. I think it was one of those weekends where HBO was free, or some other cable channel had it on. I had worked a long day and was exhausted—I came home and turned on the TV and Wildcat was playing. It was already ten minutes or so into the movie by that point. If I’d had the willpower to reach for the remote, I might have changed it.

  I don’t mean that to come off as nasty or anything, it’s just that I was exhausted and, well, it isn’t the greatest movie in the world. Though I must admit I’m no film critic. Play me anything that stars Matthew McConaughey, at least the movies where he isn’t wearing a shirt, and I’ll think it’s the greatest thing in the world.

  Anyway, I feel like I’m rambling, and I do not want to ramble, because I know you’re a very busy person. I just wanted to let you know that while Wildcat is not one of my favorite movies, you stood out. I remember you weren’t even the “star” of the movie or anything—your name was like, sixth or seventh once the credits came on—but you were just so . . . real. I remember being exhausted from work but sitting up a bit on the couch every time you came on screen. I remember thinking to myself, That girl sure can act! Not only that, I remember thinking, And she is so beautiful!

  How old were you when you filmed the movie? I looked online, but I can’t figure out whether you were eighteen or nineteen. I see on IMDb that the movie came out six years ago, and that you recently turned twenty-five (happy belated birthday!), so I guess you were eighteen? Anyway, I feel like I am rambling again, so I just want to add that the very end of the movie, when you walk into the bedroom and find your stepdad dead on the floor and you scream . . . I got chills!

  Well, I just wanted to let you know that even though I didn’t care much for the movie, I thought you were great in it and have tried watching everything else you’ve been in since.

  Best,

  Jennifer Smith

  FEBRUARY 5

  Dear Seraphina,

  I realized the other day that, in a way, I’m an actress just like you. Only I don’t star in movies and make lots of money. I work as a cashier at a grocery store.

  I know, I know, totally glamorous, right? It’s an okay job. Sometimes they let me work overtime. I make a little more than minimum wage, but it pays the bills. Or most of the bills. Okay, I am behind on a lot of bills, but that’s beside the point.

  At least they gave me this rubber mat that I can stand on that helps my back. I guess I’m making it sound like I’m special, but they have the rubber mats for all the cashiers.

  Sorry, I realize I’m rambling, just like I did in my last letter. But I wanted to tell you that I realized I’m sort of an actress too. Every day that I clock in, I am playing a part. I smile for all the customers who come into the store. Many of them are pleasant enough, but a few others are . . . jerks. (I wanted to say something else there instead but thought maybe it was too mean.)

  I guess I can’t fault them too much. Everyone has their own stuff going on. Everyone is dealing with their own stress, and I’m sure coming into the grocery store for ground beef or canned soup or laundry detergent or whatever is the very last thing they want to do after a long day. And then, you know, they need to stand in line because on the weekdays we don’t have every register open, and we only have a handful of the self-checkout registers. So sometimes the lines get long and people get irritated, and they sigh dramatically when they put their items on the conveyor belt, and I have to smile through all of it—just stand there on my rubber mat and smile because my manager is always watching, and if we’re not smiling, then the manager makes sure to say something, because “good customer service starts with a smile,” which is one of the mottos at the store, and if you get caught not smiling, then you might get written up, and if you get written up enough times . . . oh jeez, it doesn’t matter, sorry about that.

  But I wanted to say that I am like an actress because every day when I clock in, I have to play a role. I have to smile and make small talk and laugh at the lame jokes some of the older customers tell me when they’re paying for their groceries. (You would not believe how many of them still pay with checks!) I don’t want to sound too down on it, because many of the older customers are actually very nice and they mean well, but after seven or eight hours standing on that rubber mat, it can be hard to keep smiling, you know? I feel like I am putting on a show, putting on an act, and sometimes I wonder if maybe I could star in movies too, just like you.

  I live only about three hours from Los Angeles. Sometimes I think maybe I could drive up and try out for movies. That’s how you get started, right? You have to audition and stuff. I’m sure it’s not easy. You probably have to audition for hundreds of things you don’t get. But then, once you do get something, once they finally call and say they want you, it gets easier, doesn’t it?

  Maybe not. Maybe it’s all in my head. Because while I do feel like an actress, I know I will never be as good as you. Speaking of which, I watched She’s Not Listening the other night. So funny! I’m super impressed with your range. You can be in comedies and dramas and thrillers, and I know you have that new superhero movie coming out soon. Is it Marvel or DC? I always get them mixed up. Either way, so impressive!

  Well, my hand is starting to cramp up. I’m not used to writing letters by hand like this, and now I’ve done it twice! Bye for now.

  Best,

  Jennifer Smith

  FEBRUARY 27

  Dear Seraphina,

  Seraphina, Seraphina, Seraphina. You have such a pretty name. Did I mention that before? I forget. Maybe I didn’t. I don’t know.

  I wanted to tell you that I went out on a date the other night. It wasn’t very exciting. I don’t really date much anymore. It’s just . . . you know, I don’t think I ever told you how old I am. I turned forty-four last month. (Happy belated birthday to me!) There was no celebration or anything. After a while, birthdays don’t mean much anymore. They mean a lot when you’re young, for sure. I see parents coming into the store all the time to pick up the cakes they special-ordered from the bakery. They get custom messages written on them, in frosting and sprinkles and stuff. Things like “Happy 8th Birthday, Jimmy!” or “Happy Sweet Sixteen, Mary!”

  Did you ever do anything fun for your swee
t sixteen? I was reading on Wikipedia how you grew up in foster care. Guess what? I did too. I was taken from my home when I was little. I don’t remember much about my parents. By that point, it was just my mom and a guy she was living with. Child Services came in for one reason or another and the next thing I knew, I was staying with other people. They were pretty nice, from what I remember. Gave me my own room and bought me some new clothes. Even gave me an allowance—five dollars a week!—for helping out with chores around the house. But it was a temporary placement, so I started bouncing around to different homes.

  To be clear, nothing bad ever happened to me. You hear those horror stories about kids being molested by the foster dads or whoever, and that is all terrible, but I had a pretty good experience for what it’s worth. That’s not to say I stayed out of trouble. In high school I started drinking and doing drugs and sleeping around. I got knocked up at sixteen and had to give the baby up for adoption, and I’d be lying if I said that sometimes I didn’t think about how I had to abandon my child like that. Usually this is late at night when I can’t sleep and I’ve had a couple beers. Oh, yes, I should mention that I still drink, but I don’t use drugs anymore. Drugs are bad, just like McGruff the Crime Dog used to say. Or maybe he didn’t really talk about drugs so much as just crime in general? Anyway, that was probably way before your time. Like the commercial with the egg and the guy who says, “This is your brain,” and then splits the egg open in the pan and says, “This is your brain on drugs.” You could probably find that stuff on YouTube if you wanted.

  Speaking of YouTube, I watched the trailer for your superhero movie the other day. The little counter on the page said it had 41 million views! That’s incredible! I live in a small town of 15,000 people, maybe, and only a fraction come into the grocery store, so I can’t even begin to imagine what 41 million people looks like.

  Anyway, I’m rambling again, aren’t I?

  Oh yeah, my date. It was with a guy who works in the stockroom. He’s in his fifties and twice divorced. He has kids, I guess, but I don’t think he’s on good terms with them. If I’m being honest, I had zero interest in going out with him, but I was running low on my food stamps and I hadn’t had a hearty meal in a while, so I agreed to go to dinner. That sounds so pathetic, doesn’t it? Anyway, we didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was very pleasant during dinner, and then we went to a bar and had some beers and I let him touch me on my hip, but that is basically as far as I let it go.

  Well, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than read about my boring date, so let me just say again that your name is so beautiful. Oh, and that I don’t usually go to the movies anymore, but I’ve started setting aside a few dollars here and there so I can buy a ticket to your superhero movie once it comes out. Only, now that I think about it, maybe I can get the guy from the stockroom to take me. Hmm. Well, take care.

  MARCH 4

  Dear Seraphina,

  I saw you on the cover of US Weekly the other day! You looked so beautiful and commanding, like you own the camera. Isn’t that what they say?

  I was working the morning shift when the woman who swaps out the magazines came in. She is always very pleasant to me, but I get the sense some of the other cashiers don’t like her. I guess she isn’t nice enough to them or whatever. Don’t you think that sometimes people feel too entitled? Like, they expect everybody to be nice to them, but then they don’t put in any effort to earn that niceness. Maybe it’s just the people I work with. I get along with them okay, though I mostly mind my own business.

  Oh, and the stockroom guy? We “broke up,” if you want to call it that. I agreed to go out with him again because, well, I thought I could get another meal out of it. And I did! A big bowl of shrimp alfredo and some pretty good garlic bread. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t think he was kinda cute. He has a big nose and some of his hair is thinning, but that’s okay, I’m not that superficial. And he is actually a really nice guy. At least he is to me. So we went out again and had a nice time at the restaurant, and then we ended up at a bar like last time and had a few beers. I let him put his hand on my hip again, but this time I didn’t pull away when his fingers touched the small of my back, or when he leaned in and kissed me on my neck, and then one thing led to another and we were back at his apartment and the lights were off and we were kissing and he was taking my top off and suddenly, I froze.

  He asked me what was wrong. I didn’t say anything at first—I just straddled him on the couch while the TV was on in the background, some sitcom rerun I think. Then he asked me again what was wrong, and again I didn’t say anything, and so he got this weird look on his face and said my name and asked me again. Finally I told him I wasn’t sure if we should do this, and he just stared at me for a long time and then nodded and said he understood, and he offered to drive me home. Thank God for gentlemen, right? But, and I know this is going to sound weird, part of me was hoping that he wouldn’t be a gentleman. We had already got going and there I was on his lap with my shirt off, telling him I didn’t want to continue, and I guess part of me wanted him to not take no for an answer. Sick, isn’t it?

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what I’m saying, just rambling again.

  MARCH 6

  Dear Seraphina,

  You must think I’m terrible! I hope you won’t hold it against me, what I said. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with my head. It’s just, well, for some reason I feel comfortable talking to you, like really opening myself up, but then . . . there are some things we need to keep to ourselves, don’t we? No matter how much we might trust other people, we always have to keep some secrets to ourselves.

  So anyway, I was there on the stockroom guy’s lap and basically told him no, but part of me wanted him to force things. Because I am broken, Seraphina. I am sick. I don’t think I can ever be in an intimate relationship, not like . . . well, before, when I was with guys I really cared for and even loved.

  He was a gentleman, just like I said, and he drove me home. Since then he has not asked me out again, though I did see him in the breakroom the other day and he smiled at me, but that was it. I think he is seeing somebody from the prepared-foods department now. Well, there I go rambling again. I just really needed you to know why I said what I said, and that I’m sorry if it upset you.

  I also wanted to let you know again that the US Weekly cover really is fantastic. And I read the article inside and it says that you are dating your co-star from Her Last Move. He is so handsome! You make such a cute couple. Oh, and I’ve saved up enough money so I can buy a ticket for the superhero movie. Can’t wait!

  APRIL 2

  Dear Seraphina,

  I heard the awful news that you and your costar from Her Last Move broke up and that he is already dating some Instagram model. I am so sorry. Guys can be real jerks! Still, I imagine you can’t be that upset, because I read on Deadline that your superhero movie made $120 million on its opening weekend! (I know, I know, I sound like such a movie buff, but the truth is I just skim Deadline and The Hollywood Reporter during my breaks to check up on you.)

  And guess what? I did see your movie on opening weekend. I used that money I had saved up to buy a ticket, though I will admit that I went during the matinee because it was cheaper.

  But you should know, the whole auditorium was packed, mostly with kids and teenagers and some adults too. I ended up squeezing in between two families down near the front of the theater. And then the lights dimmed and, like, twenty movie trailers played, and then the movie came on.

  Oh, Seraphina, it was so good! I had such a great time. That scene near the end, where you jumped from the plane to catch the bad guy? I actually gasped! I know it’s all Hollywood special effects, but it looked so real. Later I was looking through IMDb and found that you try to do as many of your own stunts as you can. So I guess I’m wondering . . . was that you who jumped from the plane in that scene? Either way, the movie was great.

/>   Bravo!

  APRIL 29

  Dear Seraphina,

  How are you? I hope you’re doing good. It would be nice to get a note back from you one of these days, but I understand you’re super busy with all your movie projects. You must get tons of fan mail. Plus, I’m sure everybody is sending you messages on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and a bunch of other social media places I don’t even know about.

  Anyway, I heard the good news! That the one and only Steven Spielberg is looking to cast you in his next movie. That is so cool. E.T. was my favorite movie growing up. Reese’s Pieces were even my favorite candy because of the movie. (Oh Lord, I’m making myself sound so old, aren’t I?)

  I hope you get the role. I don’t even know what the movie is about, but I’m sure you will be great in it.

  I did see in the article that another actress is in the running. I forget what her name is. She’s the one with red hair. About your age. Petite with a cute smile. She was in that comedy that came out around Christmas, the one with Seth Rogen. Anyway, the article made it sound like Redhead might get the role instead. I really hope that doesn’t happen. I mean, she’s a good actress from what I can tell, but I still think you’d be so much better in the movie.

  So, fingers crossed, Seraphina!

  MAY 15

  Oh, Seraphina, I’m so disappointed for you! I saw the post on Deadline about how Redhead got the part after all. (I know her name now but refuse to use it, because you shouldn’t have to think about her anymore.) Anyway, I’m so sorry to hear that, but I’m sure another great role is going to come along any day now.