Fantasy

By Lyn Merrie

One day on a whim, I wrote a letter to Antonio Banderas. I kept it for a while, but then decided one Friday, "what the hell, why don't I mail it? I don't guess it could hurt anything."

I waited and waited, but finally I got an answer to my letter: He said he would be my friend. We wrote letters back and forth through email (after the first few when we exchanged email addresses) for about 6 months, and all that time I had been trying to lose weight in case he might decide he wanted to meet me. I enjoyed his letters very much, and I could tell he enjoyed mine too.

Finally came the letter I was waiting for, he said he wanted to meet me and that he would come to Cleveland. I was ecstatic! I told him about a little park that I knew of that would be fairly private, and hopefully there wouldn't be a lot of people there so that he wouldn't have to act or feel like an "actor", I wanted him to be himself for me. I was hoping we could just have fun and act like a couple of friends.

The day arrived when he was supposed to meet me at the park. It was a beautiful fall day with the weather in the seventies and the leaves turning colors. It was perfect. I arrived at the park early (my sister drove because I was so nervous that I couldn't even think straight) so that I could compose myself before he got there and hopefully wouldn't stammer and might even know my own name when he got there. I was dressed in a long white dress that buttoned down the front (I had actually lost 60 lbs. since we had been writing and looked not too bad) the dress was only buttoned near the waist, and underneath I wore a white camisole top with just a hint of lace at the top and a pair of white Capri pants.

I was sitting on top of one of the picnic tables, and had just leaned back to enjoy the ray of afternoon sun that had fallen across the table when he drove up. I didn't hear the car or see him until he spoke my name. I opened my eyes and couldn't believe what I saw! There he was, in a jeans shirt and pants, looking more adorable than I had ever seen him in pictures off the Internet or in any of his movies. I looked at him, and he was looking at me with that look that I had come to know as the "I love you look" (I'm sure you know the one I'm talking about).

I was stunned! "Oh my God, is he looking at me like that?" I sat up and leaned forward as much to get off the table as to let my hair (I'd grown it longer for the occasion) fall across my face so that he couldn't see the bright red shade it had turned! I immediately went into the "I don't deserve to have him look at me like that" stage.

As he neared the picnic table I tried to get my emotions and my face under control (it was some mean trick, too, but I did it.) I walked toward him and put out my hand to shake his, but he ignored it and pulled me into a hug. I turned beet red again, but was grateful that he couldn't see my face again. I hugged him back and we stayed that way for a minute. Then we broke apart.

I managed to get out that I was glad to see him, and that I wasn't really sure he was going to come.

He told me that he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

I took him by the hand and we went back to the table and sat down. I had lunch all set up, but I wasn't sure what to bring. I had salads and fruit and sandwiches (I had thought of bringing Kentucky Fried Chicken, but then I remembered that he keeps himself in remarkable shape and decided against it. I don't need all that either, I reminded myself.)

After we finished eating, he said that he wanted to go for a walk so that we could talk more together. He got up and put his hand out to me and I took it and we walked that way for a while. I told him I wanted to show him the creek, so we walked in that direction. When we reached the wall that holds back the creek, I looked for one of the sets of stairs that leads down to the water. Smiling at him shyly, I said, "C'mon, let's walk in the water."

I already had my shoes off and had been carrying them in my hand, so I just set them down, unbuttoned the rest of my dress, took it off and laid it next to my shoes. When I looked at him, he had sat down on the wall and removed his boots and socks and was in the process of rolling up the bottoms of his jeans so that he wouldn't get them wet. I started down the stairs, then looked back at him and said, "You ready? Last one in the water is a rotten egg!" He looked at me comically, and I knew he didn't know what I meant, so I told him it was an American saying, that means I'll race you.

He beat me to the water and we walked around laughing like a couple of kids, and having a really good time. I splashed some water at him, and he acted like he was mad, and then splashed some back at me. I started to do it again, but slipped and he made a grab for me and missed and we both fell into the water laughing.

By this time we were both soaking wet, and the breeze was getting a little cool so we climbed out and he chased me back to the picnic table where I grabbed the table cloth I brought and used it for a towel, then handed it to him (there was plenty of dry space still left on it.)

The sun was still shining on a nice spot near the table, so we spread the tablecloth on the ground, and sat down in the sun to dry out. His hair was all wet and hanging and curly, and I couldn't help myself, I just had to reach over and brush it back. (Then, of course, I was all embarrassed again!) My face turned bright red again, and I apologized, but he said it was ok. I just kind of looked down at my hands to hide my face.

Knowing that I was really embarrassed, Antonio reached over and cupped my chin in his hand and turned my face toward him so that he could look at me again that same way he was looking at me when he first saw me. Then he kissed me very tenderly on the cheek. A tear escaped my eye and he brushed it away then pulled me into another hug and we sat that way for a while.

He pushed me gently away, and I knew he would have to go soon, he had something that he was supposed to be doing in Cleveland other than coming to see me.

"I have to be going now. I have to change out of these wet clothes and get to the theater." He said with that sexy Spanish accent of his, and I nearly started crying again.

We got up and he folded the tablecloth while I finished putting away the things from lunch. Then he gave me one last short hug and walked away. More tears slid from my eyes as I watched him go, because I knew that it was probably the only time in my life that I was ever going to see him. He turned as he got in his car (which, by the way was a blue convertible Mustang like the one he drove in the movie Two Much) and waved and then drove off.