Dear Feist,
We need to talk. Actually, I have some things to say, and you need to listen. I brought my car to you because you were close to my workplace. You see, my car was overheating and bringing my car to you for a fix would allow me to go to work. I've had water pumps replaced before--I know it shouldn't have taken more than a few hours.
On the first day, you called me with a sort of sensible-sounding estimate. Sure, $470 is a lot of money, but the last water pump I replaced cost me $400, and you, Feist, said my belts need replacing. Things made sense. I trusted you. I should have just driven away while I could...
I have to tell you, I began to doubt that I could trust you completely when you told me, at the end of the first day, that the parts you ordered for my car hadn't arrived. I got a small boost of confidence when you offered to loan me your Jeep Cherokee so I could drive around over the course of the weekend. I was grateful to you, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw you had left 3/4 of a tank of gas for me.
On Saturday, I had to visit you again to pick up something I had left behind. My heart skipped a beat in a different way when one of your creepy mechanics cornered me in the parking lot and told me my poor car needed an additional $1,000 in work. I left you, but you stayed in my thoughts for the rest of the weekend.
On Monday, Feist, you called in the afternoon to say you weren't done with my car. I thought this was odd, since the last time I had this done to a car, it only took about 7 hours. 'Maybe Feist is having a tough time letting go', I thought.
On Tuesday, I didn't hear from you. Finally, I couldn't wait any more. I broke down and called you, but instead of ending things, things got more complicated. 'Things' weren't finished. I left in the Jeep Cherokee, unfulfilled.
Finally, on Wednesday, you called me. It took you quite some time, but you sounded so happy to hear my voice. 'It's over', you said, and I thought our relationship was really coming to an end this time.
I went to you for what I thought was the last time. You charged me a little more than what I had expected and got upset when I questioned it, but we worked through it. I was ready to leave you. I got in the car. With bated breath, I turned the key...
...but the car wouldn't let me leave. It wanted desperately for us to be together. I went back to the store, and you came out to look at the car again. It started, but I wasn't ready to go. I told you it had never had this problem before, that it had always been easy to leave, and you reassured me everything was going to be OK. Although I had been hurt before, I trusted you.
I got home. Late at night, I got the urge to test out your theory. I bundled up when I should have been sleeping and went outside. Because I trusted you, I wasn't nervous...
...but the car wouldn't go. You told me you'd take me back, and I had no choice but to go with you.
Feist, I want to leave you, to forget that I've ever met you, but you won't let me. Please, please, let me go.
Yours forever (apparently),
Christina
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