Page 2 of Sloane

I’m praying this letter finds you safe and comfortable. (I loved that she always began her letters that way.)

I’m so glad your birthday package arrived on time! I was a little worried because I ended up sending your package later than I was planning. Ralph’s had been out of your favorite beef jerky, so it took me a few days to track some down.

My birthday had been at the beginning of the month, and her package had arrived exactly on the day—October fourth.

It had been the most thoughtful thing I’d ever received. When I opened it, a Happy Birthday! sign popped up at me. Inside the box were bright, festive colors—such a stark contrast to the sand hue I couldn’t escape. It was everywhere—clothing, housing, vehicles, and landscape.

I hadn’t been able to help but smile while going through the contents. I’d never met anyone as thoughtful as Ashley. She’d even included a cake I could make in a mug, along with an actual mug—because the woman thought of everything.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had thought about a birthday cake for me. Or hell, even my birthday at all.

For my ninth birthday, my grandparents had come into town, so my parents put on a show as if it was something they did every year for me.

What a joke.

That was the only one I ever remembered celebrating as a kid. My eighteenth one was commemorated by my step-dad informing me that I’d now have to pay rent if I wanted to continue living in his house.

The ones as an adult were either spent overseas or in a strip club with my buddies, usually at their insistence as a means of celebrating. Although the lap dances my friends would buy me were spent with the woman a foot away from me. It wasn’t like I complained—I definitely liked to watch; I just didn’t let any strippers touch me. God only knew how many men those chicks had grinded on in a night. I had a thing about cleanliness, probably because I’d been raised in filth. My compulsion for things to be clean and orderly had served me well in boot camp, but I knew I needed to try to keep it in check in my everyday life. No easy feat.

When my birthday had rolled around, I’d almost forgotten what day it was. Not even when her package arrived had I given it a second thought. Then I opened the box, and almost felt like a kid again. That was just one of the many little things she did to make me feel so damn special.

I wanted to return the favor on her birthday and told her that we were going to celebrate big for her twenty-eighth, since I knew I was probably going to miss her twenty-seventh, not to mention Christmas and Valentine’s Day.

It had seemed serendipitous that the next day I learned half my company was going home for ten days in time to celebrate Thanksgiving and the other half would be arriving for Christmas. I tried to schedule the men who had kids for Christmas, and had no problem being in the group to go for Thanksgiving. It coincided with Ashley’s birthday on November thirtieth. It looked like I was going to be able to make good on my promise a year earlier than I’d planned.

I continued reading about her day, then opened the next envelope, skimming until I found what I was hoping for.

I would be honored to be a part of your welcoming party on November 27th -ish LOL! Of course, I understand I need to be flexible about the exact date. I’ll wait to hear from your friend Ryan.

And I would love for you to take me out on my birthday! I can’t believe you might really be here to help me celebrate. Just know, you being home is the only present I need, so don’t get any crazy ideas about a gift.

I’ll see what I can do about sending a photo of me in your next care package. Although, I have to be honest… I checked out your Instagram like you told me to, and you’re kinda out of my league. I’m worried you might be disappointed.

Not possible.

In my letter telling her I was coming home for Thanksgiving and inviting her to the airport along with the rest of my welcoming committee, I’d asked her to send me a photo.

“I’m not trying to be pervy or anything, I just want to know what you look like, so I know who to look for when I get off the plane. If you haven’t already, check out my Instagram.”

Her next paragraph was cryptic.

I probably should have sent one the second we started talking about more than the weather differences between San Diego and where you’re at. You need to see what I look like before this goes any further.

What the hell did that mean?

I let my imagination run wild about what she was trying to say.

Was she morbidly obese—like so much so that she was bedridden? Probably not, since she worked at the VA as a physical therapist assistant.

Older than the twenty-six years she’d told me? Was she disfigured? Or maybe the other end of the speculation spectrum and she was drop-dead gorgeous? I kind of hoped not—I’d dated women like that before and they had been a lot of work. I didn’t mind high maintenance women, but a few of them had been over-the-top.

Yet with each scenario I conjured up, I realized she could be as attractive as a fencepost or a goddamn supermodel, and I’d still think she was perfect for me. Because I knew her soul.

In my mind, she was beautiful, no matter what. I’d be a fool not to pursue her when I returned from this deployment for good. I’d thought her being from San Diego had been another sign from the universe that she was the one, since none of my other pen pals had been from anywhere near California.

The rest of her letter was more about her everyday life. Things that maybe to anyone not stuck overseas in a sandbox might find boring, but I treasured every miniscule detail. It’s what got me through the hardest days.

The package had the latest date, so I saved it for last. It was the one I'd been waiting for.

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