Page 42 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas nods and heads out of the bedroom.

Charlie allows him to go, taking the time to double-check the contents of his bag one last time.

He can hear Thomas in the kitchen, still occupied, so he retrieves the letter and gift he’s hidden in his nightstand drawer and places them under the covers on Thomas’s side of the bed.

At first he’d wanted to give them to Thomas before he left, but now he thinks this will be better—something for Thomas to come home to rather than just an empty house.

He takes his bag to the front door, then returns to the kitchen.

Thomas is placing food into a paper bag. “I made you a packed lunch. Sandwiches and an apple. For the bus ride.”

Charlie takes it and simply nods his thanks. Twenty-five minutes left. “I’ll put this in my bag.”

Once he’s added his lunch to his few meager belongings, they are left standing in their sitting room, staring silently at one another.

There’s too much time and not nearly enough.

Thomas’s eyes fill with tears and Charlie’s chest aches like his heart is trying to crack open his ribs and carve its way out.

Moving across the room, he turns the radio on and fiddles with the dial until he finds a station with a pretty song.

“Come on, dance with me. Just like the night we met.” He holds out his hand and Thomas walks to him, ignoring his hand in favor of wrapping both arms around his back, face slumping against his shoulder.

He holds Thomas tight around the waist, closes his eyes, and they sway to the music for two whole songs.

“We need to say a proper goodbye now, cause we won’t be able to at the bus stop. Or should we not say goodbye at all?” Charlie pulls away so he can look into Thomas’s eyes and gauge his thoughts. There is a tear trailing down his face, so Charlie brushes it away and waits for an answer.

“No goodbyes,” Thomas says. “Just, I love you. I love you with my whole damn heart and soul, Charlie Miller.”

“I love you too, Thomas O’Reilly. I know we’ll somehow see each other before I’m deployed. I just know it. Be strong. Find us a house to buy. A home to grow old in together.”

Thomas is visibly shaking, and a fresh wave of tears spills over his lids.

Stepping in closer, Charlie kisses them away, savoring the taste of salt and Thomas’s love on his lips.

“Sweetheart, maybe this is too hard. Maybe you should stay here, and I’ll go to the bus on my own.

You can’t . . . we can’t act like this in front of people. They’ll know.”

Thomas merely nods in mute agreement.

“Okay. Kiss me goodbye then.”

“Not goodbye, just . . . I love you.”

They crash together, lips bruising, Thomas’s hands holding Charlie’s head so tight it almost hurts.

Then two more quick presses of their mouths and Charlie pulls away.

If he doesn’t go now, he’ll never leave.

He walks backward to the door, silently mouthing “I love you” because his voice fails him.

Then he picks up his bag and pushes outside into the chilly morning air.

The walk to the bus stop gives Charlie time to collect himself and put on a brave face.

He checks in with the sergeant and introduces himself to a couple of the other men.

Almost everyone has family members with them, and many mothers, wives, and girlfriends are openly crying, clinging to the arms and necks of the men they love.

He feels for them, but more than anything it makes him angry and spiteful when he thinks about what he and Thomas are denied.

After ten minutes of waiting around, they are asked to line up and get ready to board the bus.

With no one there to see him off, Charlie doesn’t understand why he is still so reluctant to leave, but he allows others to go in front, taking a place near the back of the line.

The sergeant examines each man’s induction letter and ticks off their names on a clipboard as they get onto the bus.

The process is tedious and the line moves slowly, stretching the heartache of departure almost beyond what he can withstand.

There are still about a dozen men ahead of him when he hears it.

“Charlie!”

He turns toward the sound of his name, toward the sound of his husband’s voice. And there is his Tommy, his sweetheart, sprinting down the road toward him.

“Charlie! Wait!”

He steps out of the line as Thomas comes barreling to a stop in front of him, panting from exertion and holding out an envelope. “I’m so glad I caught you.” His voice is remarkably steady. Strong. “Your sister asked me to deliver this to you.”

In his shock, he stupidly wonders how and why Thomas has a letter from Evie. Then Thomas winks at him, and Charlie smiles, the truth bathing him in warmth. Taking the envelope, he brushes his fingers against Thomas’s. “Thanks, I appreciate you delivering it for her.”

The line is moving faster now, and Charlie needs to go.

They gaze at each other for a beat too long, then Thomas pulls him into a hug, holding him close for a split second and whispering against his ear, “Come home to me.” Thomas immediately steps back, slapping Charlie jovially on the back and smiling wide despite his tear-filled eyes. “Take good care of yourself, buddy.”

Charlie blinks, forcing down his own tears and smiling in return.

As he backs away from Thomas and toward the dwindling line, he brings his hand to his heart, over his tattoo, and taps it twice.

Thomas nods his understanding, and Charlie knows then it’s okay to get on the bus.

He’s ready. He’s the last to check in, but he finds a seat at the very back and slides across the smooth vinyl so he can look out the window.

As the bus pulls away just minutes later, the last thing he sees is Thomas standing tall at the back of the small crowd of well-wishers, blowing him a kiss.

Thomas

Thomas walks home on apathetic legs. The sweat on his skin has cooled and he shivers inside his coat, though he thinks that has less to do with the chilly March breeze and everything to do with losing Charlie.

He knows he has to find a way to get through these next thirteen weeks before Charlie is deployed, because right now, Charlie is safe and still on U.S.

soil, but soon his life will hang in the balance.

This is the easy part, he reminds himself, even though it feels anything but.

When he enters the house the stillness hits him like a slap to the face.

Having grown up in a home full of noise and disarray, quiet tends to unnerve him.

He wonders if he made a mistake taking the day off work, thinking now it might have been better to stay busy and occupied.

Walking to their bedroom, he decides he will try to get a few more hours’ rest, then visit Evie in the afternoon.

The room smells of their sex, and he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and allowing the memories of last night to play like a film in his mind.

Thomas sheds his clothes and then opens their chest of drawers, removing Charlie’s favorite sweater and bringing it to his face.

His husband’s scent is strong and calming, and his tears quickly dampen the dark blue wool.

Slipping it on, he climbs into bed on Charlie’s side, pulling the blanket up high and pressing his face into Charlie’s pillow.

Even as tears continue to fall, sleep is ready to claim him.

He stretches out his arm, intent on using the second pillow as a sore replacement for Charlie’s warm body against his chest, when his hand connects with something hard.

Confused, he pulls the blanket back to find a small box and an envelope resting on the mattress.

Sitting up, he smiles at the thought of Charlie hiding this here before he left, leaving him something to find on this most difficult day.

It’s a toss-up between wanting to read the letter first or open the gift, but Thomas ultimately settles on the letter.

He takes a deep breath and carefully opens the envelope.

To my dearest Tommy,

I know there’s no gift that can ease the pain of separation, but I saw these a while back, and the salesgirl claimed they were almost a perfect match to the color of my eyes.

She was probably just trying to make a damn sale, but maybe she ain’t totally wrong.

So perhaps you can wear them from time to time, and when you look at them, you’ll think of me. You’ve always claimed to love my eyes.

I hope we were brave at the bus station and kept our emotions in check, but please know my heart is as pained as yours, my loss as great as yours, and while we’re no longer together physically, we’re tied together in spirit, no matter how far apart this war takes us.

I’ll write to you, and I’ll telephone if we’re given the opportunity to make a call from the training camp. I hope if they grant us weekend leave, they give us fair warning so I can let you know in time for you to make the appropriate arrangements and get your ass down to meet me.

Til then, please remember how much we’ve overcome to be together, how strong we are, and how much we have to look forward to in the future.

I love you with all that I am, sweetheart.

Forever yours,

Charlie xxx

Thomas places the letter on the pillow and picks up the box, opening the lid to find the most exquisite set of cuff links he’s ever seen.

They’re set in gold with an iridescent blue glass center.

Holding them up, Thomas notices the blue appears to change shade according to the light, just as Charlie’s eyes do.

They’re beautiful, and he already knows he will wear them every day they are separated.

Placing them carefully back in the box, he settles under the covers and closes his eyes. Visions of Charlie smiling and laughing flicker across the back of his eyelids.

“Thank you, my darling,” he whispers, box held tight to his chest.

Charlie

The trip to Camp Ellis is almost five hours, so Charlie waits until everyone is settled and occupied before he opens Thomas’s letter.

Fortunately, he has the seat to himself and feels safe that no one is close enough to read it over his shoulder.

He’s glad Thomas found the strength to come to the bus station, but he wouldn’t have held any ill feelings toward him if he hadn’t.

God knows, all this is more than any person should have to endure.

As he unfolds the letter, he smiles at Thomas’s writing—normally so neat and elegant, this time a frenzied scribble as he clearly battled against time. The letter isn’t long, but still the words manage to ease his grieving heart.

Charlie, my best friend, my husband, my love,

I have only minutes to write this if I’m not to miss you.

I’m sorry I’m not stronger, but for you I will try my best. Please know how proud I am of you—of the man you are. You will always be the better of us.

You are my everything, and I will count the days, hours, and minutes until we are reunited.

I love you forever and always, my darling.

Eternally your sweetheart, Red x