Page 61 of Pages of My Heart
“It’s beautiful, just like you, my darling. Now . . .” Thomas places the book carefully on the nightstand before turning back to him, eyes alight. “How about I write poetry all over your body with my fingers and my lips?”
Charlie barely has time to smile before Thomas devours him with a kiss.
That night they go to the local cinema, choosing the least popular film on offer. They sit in the front row, away from prying eyes, and hold hands underneath the popcorn box. And for a little while, it feels like a regular Saturday night.
Thomas
After another passionate night, alternating between sleeping and making love, they wake late and head to the diner for a large breakfast. The hours are ticking down, and Thomas is acutely aware that their time is almost up, struggling to stay present and not project forward to the gut-wrenching pain to come. He has berated himself repeatedly—he must not fall apart as he did last time. This time, hemustbe strong. He must make Charlie believe, with all his heart, that they will be reunited when all this is over.
When they arrive back at their room, they sit at the little table tucked next to the bed and get down to the practicalities. Thomas doesn’t want to, but it helps Charlie settle and gain some control. Even if, in fact, control is but an illusion.
“Okay, first off.” Charlie takes Thomas’s hands. “If you start feeling low, do you promise to stay with Bridget ’til you’re better?”
“Yes, I will. I promise.”
“Has Evie been bringing you the money for my share of the rent and utilities?”
“Of course. Except I pick it up because I don’t want her under any stress with the baby coming.”
Charlie pauses, face growing stern. “In the next draft, if your number is called, what will you do?”
“Charlie, we’ve been over this a thousand times.” He pulls his hands free. “I’ll ask for an exemption based on my new job as headmaster. If that doesn’t work, I’ll fail the medical—pretend I can’t see or hear properly.” He pauses, then adds pointedly, “Or I can just tell them I’m in love with a man.”
Charlie glares at him. “Thomas, you will do no such fuckin’ thing. Since you never listen or do anything you’re told, perhaps faking deafness is the way to go.”
Thomas ignores him because he’s had enough of this conversation and promptly changes course. “I have an idea about the letters, because I can’t keep writing these buddy notes to you where I don’t get to say how I feel.”
“Yeah, I hate it too. It’s like writing to a fuckin’ pen pal. What’s your idea then?”
“You address your envelopes to Maggie O’Reilly, and in the letters, you only use Red, or sweetheart—never Tommy. I’ll write back using your name, signing as Red and putting Maggie as the return sender.”
Charlie grins and slaps the table. “Tommy, you’re a goddamn genius. It’ll just sound like two young lovers.”
“Darling, wearetwo young lovers.”
Charlie rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “You know what I mean. We’ll still need to be careful not to say anything that might give us away. Some of the boys are sayin’ Uncle Sam monitors our letters in case they’re intercepted by the Krauts. They wanna make sure we’re not revealing secret information or some shit.”
Thomas nods his understanding as he removes his wallet from his jacket and slides out the photo of Maggie he brought for this purpose, placing it face up on the table.
“What’s this?” Charlie asks, face perplexed.
“It’s a photo of Maggie. A color one, so everyone can see she has red hair. You can show it to the other men and say she’s your girl. Tell them you call her Red. That way you can talk about me, call me Red, and they’ll think you’re talking about her.”
Charlie’s expression turns to understanding. “This why you got so madyesterday?”
Thomas can do nothing but nod. This is the smart choice, but it still pains him to know that Charlie will need to pretend he’s in love with his sister. That Charlie will need to pretend to write Maggie letters. He should have told Charlie straight away why he lost his temper.
“Sweetheart, it’s a good plan. I wanna be able to write to you and tell ya how I feel. And I won’t survive without all that romantic stuff you’re always sayin’. I tease you sometimes, but you know I secretly love it.” The blush that blooms across Charlie’s cheeks soothes Thomas instantly.
“That’s settled then.” He reaches across the table and joins their hands together once more. “If there’s anything else you need to tell me, now’s the time.”
Charlie exhales loudly, like breathing is an effort. “No, not really. Are you enjoying your new position yet?”
“Not much. I miss the students. I miss teaching. Mostly I sit in my office and do my work—it’s all a bit isolating. I think in the future I’d like to gain a professorship at a college so I can be back in the classroom. But to do that I might need to return to study . . . after the war, of course.”
Charlie squeezes his hands. “That sounds like a great idea, and we’ll figure out how to make it happen. But for now, try to settle into it. Maybe you can be like . . . a real modern headmaster. Visit the classrooms more often.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Thomas places a kiss on each of Charlie’s hands. “Thank you for understanding.”
