She sat up switching on her bedside lamp.

She glanced at the cell phone sitting beside her Stephen Bann book Paul Delaroche : History Painted.

Taking risks. She’d done it before, she thought, the plane ticket had been a one way ticket. That had been a completely selfish move on her part and she knew it now but…with everything that had happened recently the situation was not the same.

She got out of bed and headed for her desk where she rummaged around for a legal note pad and a pen.

She took a seat and began to write.

Dear Helena,

      Let me start this by saying that I’m not drunk. I know that you’re used to drunken phone calls from me, but this is not a drunken letter. I know what I’m writing to you. I hope that you don’t throw this out. I would like to think that you wouldn’t but who knows. Things are weird here and I can only imagine how you’re feeling.
       When I talked to you and told you I’d remembered Kit that was the truth, but not the whole truth. I remembered a lot of things. Including you. I can’t really say that I understand everything I’ve remembered because I don’t. In fact a lot of it feels like it happened to another person. It’s hard to explain. I see the images but there’s nothing connecting me to them for most of them. It’s like watching your life flash before your eyes and not feeling a damn thing.
       I don’t think I ever told you about my childhood did I? I don’t think that I ever let you get past a certain point with me. Granted I let you in further than anyone else but not all the way in. For that I want to apologize. You let me see all the good and the bad with you and I never returned the favor. But you’re a braver person than I am.
       You said I love you first and when I behaved so badly you actually spoke to me again. And when I asked that you act like you’d never said anything you agreed. For my sake I know. It hurt you and I didn’t care. Well I did care but I allowed myself to think that you were okay, that the infatuation would fade. How wrong I was. The only way I could be around you was if your love was actually infatuation. A passing emotion. 
      Anyway I knew it wasn’t after a certain point. You loved me and I loved you. And I let things get out of hand. I couldn’t say it muchless admit to feeling it. I’ve never been in love. Never allowed myself to open myself enough for that to happen. Except that it did. You mentioned once that the only way I’d fall in love was through a sneak attack, that the walls around my heart were like the walls of Troy and only a Trojan horse could conquer me. I never could forget you saying that to me. Because it was at that moment I knew I was actually in love with you. That you were my Trojan horse. Corny I know but it’s the truth.
     I’ve rambled. I didn’t mean to. I had a purpose in writing this and I seem to have strayed from it. I wanted to tell you that I understand why you did what you did. Why you lied to me. Because you love me. I know you’ll say that you don’t and that you’re over me, but I know that’s not true. It seems we’re in the same boat here Helena. I’m in love with you and even with a scattering of memories I know that. No point in denying that any longer. I can’t even if I wanted to.
     But love sometimes isn’t enough is it? I hurt you and I know that saying sorry won’t be enough. It shouldn’t be enough. And even if you could forgive me I still have things to work out with myself. I’ve got a ton of hang ups and getting to the root of them is what I’m going to try and do. I want to be a better person. A better Bette as Alice would say. I want to stop living my life led by my fear of…the entanglements of emotions. The only way I can do that is to stay here in Los Angeles and take it one step at a time.
      Maybe you could take the time to see why you let me treat you so poorly too. Because you didn’t have to stay around and yet you did. If we do decide to pursue something then we should both be at our best. I remember that your father mentioned something to me once about how Peabody’s love wholeheartedly and perhaps unhealthily. I don’t know maybe you should find someone else who’s not so fucked up. Of course I hope that you don’t. But maybe it’s too late. I don’t want to pressure you or seem selfish when I say this, but I’ve told you before that I wanted you to catch me when I fell. But now I think we’d both do much better if we landed together. How does that sound?
     I’m still rambling. Sorry. I told the girls about getting some of my memories back and we played the game of do you remember this. At my surprise party. I know what you’re thinking. The horror. I was actually quite well behaved. I had a wonderful time. It seems at last the weight that’s been across my shoulders is gone. I feel lighter than I ever have and so I am able to write this letter to you. Able to tell you I love you and hope that you might have it in your heart to wait a bit longer for me.
     Don’t answer right away. Think about it. All I want is for you to write me back. Tell me anything. I want to get to know you. I want to know the real Helena Peabody. I want you to know me. All of me. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t write back and want to completely cut off ties to me. Really I won’t. I’ll even try to understand.
     But I know that I’ll always love you as I’ve loved you for the past six years, I think from the moment I met you oddly enough. A doe eyed teenager. Too sexy for her own good. The younger Peabody who managed to steal my heart.