Page 48 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

When Thomas arrives home from work, he stops at the mailbox, as has been his habit for the past fourteen months, hand hovering momentarily before lifting the lid.

The letter he received from Charlie last week still weighs heavily on him.

He’s unwilling to accept that Charlie has succumbed to the horrors of war, but his husband is obviously not thinking clearly, and that frightens him.

That Charlie could suspect him of being unfaithful, or of leaving him for another, cuts Thomas wide open.

Perhaps he made a terrible mistake not telling Charlie about his episode, but at the time, he thought it would worry and distract him too much.

Now he understands that the lengthy time between his letters has been grossly misconstrued.

Thomas can only hope that his latest letter has arrived by now, and that Charlie has been reassured of his devotion.

Thomas flicks through the day’s mail, his heart stopping at the sight of Charlie’s distinctive scrawl.

How could he have another letter so soon?

Rushing up the path, he fumbles with the key before bursting into the house.

He quickly shrugs off his jacket, dropping the letter in his haste before taking a seat in the armchair and finally ripping the envelope open.

And then his world shatters.

May 18, 1944

Dear Red,

I’m no good. I’m a broken man. Forget me. Go and find another.

Charlie

He reads it again. And again. It cannot be.

Thomas rocks his body backward and forward in a childish attempt to soothe himself.

It will be all right he tells himself. It will be all right!

Charlie hasn’t received his letter yet. Charlie is just confused.

A wailful sound originates deep in his chest and claws its way out of his mouth, opening a floodgate of grief.

Tears spill onto the wretched letter, the ink blurring before his eyes.

Doesn’t Charlie love him anymore? How could Charlie ever think he could love another?

Or forget him? The thoughts swirl around in his head in a dizzying kaleidoscope of emotion until only anger remains.

He stands up screaming and rips the letter to shreds, the tiny pieces of paper fluttering to the ground like falling bits of snow.

Collapsing back to the floor, he sobs. It feels like someone has ripped his insides out.

He needs Charlie. He needs to talk to him and set him straight.

Thomas can fix this if only he can just see him, just touch him.

Fists pound on the front door and he gasps in surprise, then stills with the unexpectedness of it. Evie’s hysterical shouts follow a second later.

“Tom! Tom, please . . . it’s Charlie. Thomas! Open the door!” Evie pounds with her fists once again.

Thomas scrambles off the floor, wiping at his tears as he races to the door. When he swings it open, he’s finds an ashen-faced Evie, mascara running down her cheeks and eyes wide with fear.

“Tom, he’s been wounded. They said they’ll send him home when—” She pauses. “If he survives.”

Thomas’s vision blurs and bile rises in his throat. He feels faint. “But what does that mean? What’s happened? What did the telegram say?”

“That’s all it said. We have to wait for further news.”

Thomas’s knees buckle and he drops down onto the front doorstep. He knows he must look a sight—tears on his cheeks and snot still streaming from his nose—but he doesn’t care. “Evie, what if he doesn’t make it? I can’t . . . I can’t live without him.”

Evie sits down next to him and puts a slender arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tight.

“Tom, I have to—” Evie stops abruptly, seeming to muster her resolve before trying again.

“I need to ask you something, and I want you to know . . . if the answer is yes, I won’t be mad.

I promise. Tom, please, can you look at me?

” With mounting dread Thomas slowly raises his head.

When he forces himself to meet Evie’s nervous eyes, he knows she is about to ask the unthinkable.

“Are you and my brother . . . more than friends?”

Thomas blinks, a lifetime of conditioned panic battering his body. He wants to run, but his limbs remain unresponsive. “W–why would you ask me that?”

“Tom, I see the way you two look at each other. You’ve been inseparable for almost seven years.

Neither of you has had a steady girl in all that time .

. .” She takes a deep breath. “Tommy, I love you like a brother. You are family to me, and to Jonathan. You can trust me to keep your secret. I promise I’ll protect you both. ”

It’s too much to hope for. Thomas’s mind rejects Evie’s acceptance even as every cell of his being craves it. “Why? Why would you do that? What you’re suggesting is—it’s vile. A sin against God.”

Evie presses a kiss to his temple. “Tom, all I know is that Charlie was unhappy his entire life until you came along. I know people say it’s wrong.

And I don’t need to think about . . . about what you two .

. . well, you know. But when I catch the way you are with each other when you think no one is watching, all I see is love.

For the first few years . . . yeah, I was uncomfortable.

It frightened me, I guess. But not now. Not anymore.

Now all I see are two men I love, my brother and my best friend, who love each other and make each other happy.

Who share a love stronger than any I’ve ever seen.

And I’m not sure how that could ever be a sin. ”

Thomas begins to cry again, nodding his head as he allows the truth to be set free.

His and Charlie’s truth that they have militantly protected for seven years.

It’s relief and horror all wrapped up in one, his body shaking with the recklessness of it.

He wishes Charlie were here to hear his sister’s words of acceptance.

He takes Evie’s small hand in his. “We do love each other. And to us . . . it doesn’t feel wrong.

Just the opposite. It feels like the most natural thing in the world.

It’s so easy to love him, Evie. Easier than breathing.

I won’t—fuck, I won’t be able to go on if he doesn’t make it.

He—he sent a letter. I just received it today.

That’s why I was already a wreck when you arrived.

He told me to forget about him and find another.

” His voice breaks. “Why would he do that, Evie? Why?”

“Oh, Tom . . . I’m so sorry.” Evie pulls him to her breast and he goes freely, her softness reminding him of his mother when she used to hold him as a child.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it. It’s this stupid war!

I’ve heard from other wives whose husbands have returned home .

. . stories about how they’ve changed . .

. how it takes time for them to resettle.

Once the two of you are reunited, it’ll be fine.

I’m sure of it. For now, we just need to hang on a little longer, and pray a little harder, until he comes home to us. ”

“I love him so much, Evie. It’s been so hard without him . . . having no one to talk to. I feel like a whole part of me is missing.”

Evie rubs his back in slow, steady circles. “I know. And I’m sorry—I wish I’d had the courage to ask you sooner, but I was scared. But now you’ve got me to talk to until he’s back. Anytime. Okay?”

“But . . . what if he doesn’t come back?”

“We can’t think like that. We have to hope and pray for the best. Charlie is strong. Perhaps the strongest person I’ve ever known. He’ll fight to live. He’ll fight to come home to you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, bringing his arms up to return her embrace and squeezing tight. Maybe finally with someone to lean on, he can hold it together a while longer.