Page 89 of Pages of My Heart
“Where are you going? If you’re getting food, bring me something too!” Thomas calls out after him.
Ten minutes pass before Charlie returns carrying two sandwiches and two glasses of water perched precariously on top of a very old box.
“What do you have there?”
“Sandwiches,” Charlie teases. “Is your eyesight going already, old man?”
“Ha, ha. Just becauseyoudon’t need reading glasses . . . at leastI’mnot going deaf,” he throws back. “Now tell me, what’s in the box?”
Charlie sets their food and drinks down and climbs back into bed with the box. “I was bored waitin’ on you to come home from work the other day, so I did some cleaning in the attic. I found this and thought you might enjoy it as much as I did.” Charlie opens the lid and Thomas gasps. Because straight away he knows what they are—their war letters.
“Did you read them? Without me?”
“Well . . . I read a couple.” Charlie has the decency to look a little sheepish. “But I thought it might be nice if we read them to each other. Or is that stupid?”
Thomas shakes his head, eyes watering up for the hundredth time that day. “It’s not stupid at all. But . . . they won’t upset you? They don’t drag up terrible memories?”
“You know, when I first looked at them, I thought they might. But once I started readin’, it just . . . how do I explain this?”
Thomas waits patiently for Charlie to gather his thoughts.
“The letters are filled with our love. Yeah, there’s the heartache of us being separated and how we were struggling to cope with that, but it’s been thirty-four years, and now we know we made it. What’s to cherish in these letters is our love for one another. We were young and reckless, but our love was undeniable.”
Thomas’s reservations are pushed aside by Charlie’s words. Maybe this is the perfect way to celebrate their 40th anniversary. “You want me to read one first?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. Pick one.” Charlie passes the box to Thomas.
He looks through them, checking dates, opening a few and reading the first few lines as he tries to decide. Finally, he settles on one. Thomas gets comfortable leaning against the headboard.
“Okay, come here.” He motions for Charlie to settle against his chest. Once Charlie is snuggled against him, he begins.
“September 3rd, 1943. To my beloved Charlie…”
Epilogue
June 26, 2015
Alexis
Alexis stands with her mom among the huge crowd outside the Supreme Court with a pride flag draped around her shoulders. Her mom wears a T-shirt that reads “Proud Mom” and that is adorned with an over-the-top glitter rainbow. There is excitement bubbling around them, a sort of nervous energy that seems to connect each and every soul via some invisible thread. It’s undoubtedly the most exhilarating moment of Alexis’s life. She’s about to become a part of history, as cliché as that sounds. Of course, there are a bunch of right-wing religious homophobes here too, chanting their usual bullshit, but she refuses to let their hate spoil her mood. The verdict forObergefell v. Hodgeswill be handed down at any moment.
She spent all of yesterday reading and rereading the yellowed letters saved in that old cardboard box her mom had been keeping. She’d cried, laughed, gasped with shock—utterly spellbound by the love shared between her great-granddads, Charlie and Thomas, whom she’d never had the chance to meet. She learned that her mom remembered them a little from her childhood, from before she and her family moved toVirginia. Alexis had asked her question after question, and later that evening, after two hours of rummaging through Granddad’s old things in the garage, they found photos. A few black and white ones from their younger days, including one of Charlie in his World War II uniform, and then color ones too that helped explain why Charlie was always calling Thomas “Red.” There were photos of their house in San Francisco, and one of Charlie and Thomas kissing under a Miller’s Fine Cars and Automobiles sign, and several with her granddad Jonathan. But the most beautiful one of all was taken at a civil union ceremony for Charlie and Thomas in the ’70s. Her mom is in that photo too, standing there next to them. Now she wishes they could be here today, standing next to her. Her eyes start to well up.
“You all right, honey?”
Alexis blinks back the tears, turning to look at her mom’s concerned face. “Yeah. I was just thinking about the letters again. About Charlie and Tommy and how much they had to go through. I wish they could be here to see this. I wish I’d had the chance to know them.”
“They would be so proud of you, Lex.”
Alexis huffs. “But what have I done? It’s me that’s proud. It’s because of people like them that I got to come out at fifteen.”
Katie places an arm around Alexis’s shoulders. “True. But that took courage. There’s still plenty of homophobia and discrimination out there,” she says, with a pointed look toward the crowd of angry protestors. “And you’ve made changes at your school, and you always stand up for yourself and your community. And you’re only sixteen years old. Theywouldbe proud of you, and I’m proud too.”
The crowd starts to hush, everyone around them halting their conversations. They wait, unsure of what’s happening, and then the crowd begins to erupt into cheers.
“Oh my god, oh my god!” Alexis starts jumping up and down, then hugs her mom, tears wetting her cheeks. She can get married one day.
“I’m so happy for you, Lex. For everyone.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Alexis scans the surrounding crowd, eyes coming to rest on another young girl about her age who’s standing nearby with a group of friends. They’ve been exchanging shy glances for the last hour or so. Now, Alexis smiles brightly and coyly flicks back her hair as she strides toward her.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she says, a little breathless. “I almost can’t believe it.”
The girl steps closer too. “I know, it’s incredible. I’m Tiana, by the way. But you can call me Tia.”