Page 2 of Pages of My Heart

To my beloved Charlie,

I thought things were unbearable before, but I was wholly and utterly wrong.

This is undeniably so much crueler. At least when you were training at Camp Ellis you were still close, still in America, still only a train ride away.

But now I know you are truly beyond my grasp, and it makes me feel helpless and lost. I am distracted at work, worrying, thinking about all the worst possible things that could happen to you.

It still feels so wrong for me to be here when you are over there.

I replay that last weekend we had holed up in that cheap motel room over and over again.

I miss everything about you—the sparkle in your eyes, that smile reserved only for me, your scent and your rough hands that caress me in the gentlest of ways.

And other things too. You know what I’m talking about, and I know I cannot say much, but please know that my body aches for you.

Aches to be close, in the most primal of ways.

To be welcomed home, safe inside your warmth.

My heart is beating wildly in my chest at this very moment, just thinking of you in my arms.

Will you stay faithful to me? What if you are gone for years?

How long before you cannot do without? Maybe it’s not fair for me to ask such things, but you have my word that I will stay strong in this regard—I will not go to that place where we met, or any other like it.

But you must be extra careful! You know that, don’t you, my love?

Evie is coming over on Sunday to cook me a roast dinner.

She promised she would make her famous mashed potatoes, too.

And I’m still going to Bridget’s every Friday for family dinners.

Saturday nights are the worst. I feel loneliest then.

I miss taking you to the pictures or down to the pool hall.

I miss having your body tucked under my arm on the couch while we listen to our favorite radio shows.

I miss having you beside me in bed at night.

It’s so cold now. So empty. The house is just too quiet without you.

But that is more than enough about me. I know I am being selfish. Tell me what you have been doing. What is it really like? How is the food?

I know you will be brave and courageous and try to protect everyone in your platoon, but I beg you—do not protect them if it means sacrificing yourself!

Do you hear me, Charlie? I cannot live this life without you.

Having said that—kill as many of those Nazi bastards as you can! Kill some for me, too.

What is the weather like? Are you sleeping? Have you forged any friendships with the men, perhaps some who will look out for you in the field? What is your commanding officer like?

I do not know how long this letter will take to reach you—I imagine a very long time.

I wish you had a photo of me, but at least you have your tattoo, and I have mine.

It brings me some comfort knowing that the symbol of our love is inked over your heart, and you carry it with you, always.

Some nights I stand in front of the mirror and look at mine, trace it with my fingertips.

Then I lie down on our bed and imagine you are with me, that it is your hand upon my skin and not my own.

I cry, sometimes. I’m so scared for you.

I hear your voice as if you are in the room: “Quit it with all the sentiment, Red,” you holler at me.

But you are smiling when you say it. Christ, I just miss you so much, Charlie.

It’s getting late now, almost midnight. I will write again soon and patiently wait for a letter in return. You are always in my thoughts. Stay safe, my love, and come home to me.

Love always,

Red x