Page 50 of Pages of My Heart
I know you are suffering right now, but I’m proud of you for making corporal. You are such a strong man and you can’t help but inspire confidence in others. My deepest sympathies about dear Johnson. I am truly saddened that you have lost your friend. I know you blame yourself, but it’s not your burden to bear. It’s NOT. This war is at fault. Germany is at fault. Hitler has the blood of the whole world on his hands. I know how brave you are, and I know you would have done everything possible. Johnson will have known that too.
You are going to look so distinguished and handsome in your dress uniform with your Bronze Star, and one day, hopefully, you will see the good in what you’ve done. For now, please know that I think of you always. I try to send you all my strength. Ihear your pain, darling, and I am so worried. I panic when I read your words and imagine the horrors you are experiencing. I wish I could take away the anguish. I feel so damn helpless here. I grow angry and frustrated, and I lash out at people sometimes. But how can they understand what I’m feeling?
As to your question about our own house—I had a meeting with the bank manager some time ago, and it all looks very promising. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner, but in any case, I haven’t started looking yet because it’s not something I want to do alone. It will be our house, our home, and we must choose it together. So I’m waiting for your return. But I do like to imagine what it might look like . . .
I see a white, freshly painted house with blue window shutters and matching flower boxes, and it has a long porch that extends its whole length. We have a beautiful garden out back and a vegetable patch in one corner where I can grow tomatoes, and carrots, and potatoes. You grumble about getting your hands dirty, but you’ll enjoy watching me bent over at work and get almost as freckled as me sitting out in the sun. We have a fireplace in the sitting room and in our bedroom, and in winter you’ll come running (and cursing!) from the bathroom to our bedroom to warm your naked body by the fire. I’ll never be able to resist, and we won’t make it to the bed before I devour you with my love. And as we grow older, we’ll sit out on the front porch in the summertime and sip cold beers. Maybe I’ll read to you, and you’ll rest your head on my shoulder. I imagine a future where the world won’t mind so much, and I’ll be able to place a loving kiss to your temple and hold your hand in mine.
One day,Charlie. One day.
Please know that it doesn’t matter how much time passes, or how long we are separated, my love for you only grows stronger.
All my love,
Red xxx
Chapter 28
March 1943
Thomas
Thomas finds the days leading up to Charlie’s departure for boot camp the most painful of his life—although he’s not so naive as to think they will be the worst he’ll have to endure. Charlie remains resolute, focusing on the practicalities, such as ensuring his military pay will be distributed correctly: part to his mother, and the remainder to Thomas via Evie. There is also the matter of finishing up at the garage and saying goodbye to friends. But Thomas knows the truth—Charlie is struggling too. On more than one occasion he’s looked out of the kitchen window to find Charlie standing eerily still in the backyard, smoking cigarette after cigarette, his shoulders slumped, until the dark of night swallows his silhouette.
Most evenings, they eat early and head straight to their bedroom, shedding their clothes and slipping between the sheets. Often no words are exchanged, for what words could even begin to describe the depths of their shared heartache? Instead, their eyes and hands and mouths articulate for them. Poetic fingers speak only truths, sonnets are written with soft lips, and eyes confess the stories of their souls. Thomas sinks into Charlie overand over again, cataloging it all to memory. The heat of Charlie’s skin, the most responsive curves of his body, the scent of his arousal, and the song of his pleasure. Thomas grants himself permission to be consumed by it.
They defy sleep until they collapse, unwilling to lose any more of their precious remaining hours than they have to. They bathe together, do the chores side by side, help each other dress, and even feed each other sometimes. Thomas travels to Charlie’s work with him in the mornings, and Charlie meets Thomas at the school in the late afternoons to travel back home. Thomas doesn’t know if anyone thinks it odd, and for once he doesn’t care.
Amid all the barely contained despair, Thomas is offered the headmaster’s position at the new public school that’s opened just off Halsted, and Charlie tells him to accept it. He agrees, even though his heart isn’t in it. They also discuss the possibility of Thomas being drafted while Charlie is at war, and Charlie makes him promise he will fail the medical or seek an exemption on any grounds necessary. Again, Thomas agrees. Anything to ease Charlie’s burden.
He feels guilty about the way he behaved on draft day—the sheer selfishness of it knocking him on his ass. He vows to do better, even though he teeters on the edge of darkness from morning until night. Every day he hides in the school restroom between classes and cries into his handkerchief. But he doesn’t share this with Charlie.
Now tonight will be their last night together. Tomorrow morning Charlie leaves for boot camp, and from there he will be deployed straight into active duty overseas. Charlie is headed to Camp Ellis, which thankfully is not too far—still in Illinois. They’ve heard that sometimes the army grants the soldiers twenty-four or even forty-eight hours’ leave toward the end ofthe thirteen-week training period. Thomas prays they will get to see each other once more, but he must prepare for this to be their final goodbye, just in case.
Charlie visits his mother’s house in the afternoon, spending time with her, Donnie, and Evie. Charlie doesn’t want them at the bus stop, preferring to say his goodbyes in private. Thomas understands, so he waits at home, leaving Charlie to it as he prepares dinner. It feels a lot like preparing his own last meal.
The dining table is laid with their best tablecloth, and Thomas places a single candle in the center. He turns on the radio and changes into his nicest sweater. The lump in his throat is already lodged firmly in place, his tears barely held at bay. He’s not sure how to navigate the pain ripping at his insides, and he prays to God in vain to give them more time.
When Charlie walks through the door it’s almost seven o’clock. They have thirteen hours remaining. A mere 780 minutes, his mind uselessly supplies. Charlie removes his jacket and hat, then strides across the room, slamming into him with reckless force. They breathe heavily into each other’s necks, arms gripping tight as they rock from side to side in a futile attempt to stave off the grief. Thomas has a duty to remain strong for his husband, to give him nothing but love and support before he leaves. “Let’s eat,” he says. “I have a special surprise.”
They pull apart and he watches Charlie put on a brave face. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”
“You sit down, and I’ll bring it out.”
Thomas moves back into the kitchen, takes their dishes out of the oven where he’s been keeping them warm, and carries them to the table. “Be careful, the plate is hot.”
Charlie smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “A steak? Are you kidding me? How can we afford this?”
“I can make do on leftovers for a few days. I wanted you to have a good meal.”
Thomas sits and Charlie takes his hand, kissing it affectionately. “It smells great. Thank you.”
Thomas forces himself to dig in, even though his stomach is a jumbled mess of nerves. “How was your last day at work?” he asks.
“Good. I finished the repairs on the Cadillac with the V16 engine. And Jimmy organized for us to finish early and have a beer. There was cake too. I would’ve brought some home for you, but the greedy bastards ate it all.”
Thomas laughs. “Typical of those boys. Is the steak nice?”
“Perfect. Listen, I was thinkin’ . . .” Charlie sets his knife and fork down. “I was thinking when I get home, we should have enough savings to get approved for a mortgage and buy our own place. What do you think?”
