Page 12 of Pages of My Heart

To my dearest Red,

Speaking of my sister, she must have had her little one by now.

Is it a boy like I predicted? Have you been to visit?

I sure hope the baby looks like Evie and not Richard, and that Richard is taking good care of them both.

I’m sure you’ll keep an eye on Evie for me, and I know wild horses couldn’t keep you away from a baby.

I can imagine you holding the little one and instantly falling in love.

It troubles me I can’t give you one of your own, and I worry that as time passes, you’ll regret your decision to stay with me.

To answer some of your questions, the food tastes like shit, but some days you’re so hungry you’d eat anything.

Other days, the thought of food doesn’t even cross your mind.

When you’re at the front, you sleep in short spurts between watches.

Some nights I barely sleep, nerves too frayed to settle.

Other nights my body is so pained, so exhausted, I can’t stop myself from collapsing into the sleep of the dead.

Most importantly, of course I’ll stay faithful to you.

You should know not to question that. You should know you have my loyalty for life.

But I should’ve known not to question your loyalty either.

I’m sorry for that, sweetheart. We’ve got to make do with our thoughts and our hands until we’re reunited.

I let my thoughts wander to memories of us to relieve my mind of the horrors of this war.

I find myself reminiscing often, and it transports me away from all this pain and death.

Sometimes it’s those very private moments, and sometimes it’s the fun times we’ve had.

I can always picture you clearly in my mind and hear you talking to me. I can feel the ghost of your touch.

Last night I was thinking about that time we went on that double date just after New Year’s in ’39.

You remember the one I’m talking about? When you went overboard trying to sabotage everything and the night still ended with you having to dodge a kiss.

I’m grinning right now thinking of it. You ordered something your date didn’t want at the diner, then spilled your drink all over their clothes.

At the pictures you refused to buy them popcorn or candy, and you were making fun that they didn’t know nothing about poets.

I think you even made a dig about their hair!

It still makes me laugh to this day. Your stubbornness knows no bounds, Red.

That angry chin of yours was jutting out so far I thought your damn neck was going to snap.

Lucky we only needed to do those double dates every now and again.

But I still wonder what got you so riled up that time—you never did tell me.

I just stopped writing to read your letter again.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I brought it to my face, and I swear I can smell you on the paper.

Did you spray it with that scent you wear?

Surely, I’m imagining it? Even if you did, would the paper hold the scent traveling all this way?

I can smell you, I swear I can. I’ll sleep with it under my pillow tonight.

It arouses me, Red. If only it were already lights out, I could breathe in your scent as I take myself in hand.

Thank you for this piece of home, sweetheart.

Maybe tonight as I think of you, you’ll also be thinking of me.

Maybe we’ll reach the pinnacle together.

My body aches for you, Red. I’ll whisper your name in the dark, and drown in your scent, and dream of when you take me in your arms once again.

I love you, sweetheart.

Forever, your beloved Charlie

xox