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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/846589-Gone-With-The-Wine
Rated: 13+ · Letter/Memo · Tribute · #846589
A letter to my heroine and namesake.
GONE WITH THE WINE


Dear Scarlett,

I started reading ‘Gone with the Wind’ today. I love your strong, impulsive character; a girl after my own heart if ever there was one. Mind you, I must say I can’t see the attraction in that Ashley Wilkes; far too timid and indecisive for you. I’m not particularly worried as it’s obvious you’re idolised by every male in the district and I’m convinced someone will come along to turn your head away from the insipid Ashley. I’ll enjoy my coffee and fig roll imagining the wonderful romantic affair the future surely holds for you. My washing basket’s full but I’ll think about that tomorrow.

         Tuesday’s arrived and I’ve been reading more of your story. I can understand you being angry with Rhett Butler initially, but can’t you see he’s the perfect match for you? The Civil War’s created awful conditions; I can empathise with your revulsion at nursing those dying soldiers. But Rhett did offer to take you away from it all. How could you turn him down? He secures a horse and carriage for you, risks life and limb helping you escape the dangers of Georgia, confesses he loves you and what do you do? Tell him you hate and despise him! I know he’s no saint Scarlett, but you’re no angel either if you don’t mind me saying so. I just hope you see sense soon. I’ll have a drop of whisky in my coffee today; I feel a bit edgy. The washing basket’s overflowing now and the sink’s full of dirty pots but I’ll think about that tomorrow.

         Wednesday’s come round fast. I didn’t sleep well last night and feel tired today. A bit tearful too. Your journey back to Tara with sickly Melanie upset me but I suppose under the circumstances I’ll forgive you for whipping that poor horse until it dropped. I’ve poured a glass of wine to calm my nerves but it’s rapidly disappearing as I read that your mother is dead, your father has lost his marbles and Tara is in a state of disrepair. I know you have the determination to restore her to her former glory but things don’t look good right now, especially with that Yankee soldier lying dead at the bottom of your stairs. You sure made a mess of his face when you shot him Scarlett. My wine glass is empty, my sink and washing basket are still brimming and surfaces need dusting but I’ll think about that tomorrow.

         I’ve a thick head this morning; it’s a very dull looking Thursday so I’ll just read today. I can’t believe your father has gone; what a terrible riding accident and how tragic for you. But marrying Sue Ellen’s beau Frank, in order to pay your taxes is a bit heartless. Now look what’s happened. You’re attacked by thieves in your carriage, Frank’s killed trying to seek revenge and you end up a widow again. Just how many men are going to expire before you realise you should be with the enigmatic Mr Butler? My wine bottle’s drained; my washing basket and sink are still full, the layer of dust is thickening and the grass needs mowing but I’ll think about that tomorrow.

         It’s Friday already. Congratulations, Scarlett. At long last you’ve agreed to marry Rhett, though I suspect it’s more for money than love. How kind and considerate he is; comforting you when you have nightmares, returning to Tara when you become home sick and even presenting Mammie with that beautiful red petticoat. What a charmer. And now you have a beautiful daughter too. Look what a fine family you have and how happy you’ve made Rhett. I think I’ll crack open some champagne and celebrate before reading on. Cheers.

         What on earth are you doing? Put that photo of Ashley down. Why are you thinking of him when everything is perfect? I can’t believe you’ve decided against more children just because you want your figure back. Depriving a man like Rhett of his oats can only lead to disaster. I can’t stand any more today. Maybe we’ll both think more clearly after a good night’s sleep. I’ve opened the champagne so I suppose I’ll have to finish it off or it’ll go flat. I hope it drowns my sorrows. It won’t get the washing, dusting, hoovering or gardening done but I’ll think about that tomorrow.

         Thank goodness it’s the weekend now. I had to go shopping this morning as there was no food left in the cupboards but I felt so depressed I bought a bottle of brandy instead. It was the shock of reading about your fall and losing the baby you were carrying as a result of your one night of passion with Rhett after that party. I honestly believed things might turn out right after that. I didn’t think they could get much worse. But now I’m sobbing because Bonnie has been taken from you and Rhett is out of his mind with grief. I can’t see the print too well what with the tears and the brandy but I just have to finish this book.

         Poor frail Melanie has lost her fight now but wonder of wonders, you have finally realised it’s not Ashley who floats your boat, but Rhett. I’m convinced he’ll take you back with open arms and all will be well. But as I read the conclusion of this tragic tale it seems the promise of a happy ending is as empty as my brandy bottle. There’s no food in the house and they’ve just been to cut my gas off as I forgot to pay the bill. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise as I was contemplating putting my head in the oven. I can’t face the washing basket, pots, dusting or hoovering. The grass is six inches long and the borders full of weeds. The bin needs emptying and all these bottles need recycling. But frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.

In deepest Sympathy
Your Inebriated Friend.




P.S. Good luck with Tara. I’d offer to help you but my own house needs putting in order when I’ve sobered up.







© Copyright 2004 Scarlett (scarlett_o_h at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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