Page 5 of Pages of My Heart
“But why? Didn’t you enjoy it?” He’s confused by the contradiction between Charlie’s body and his words.
“I did. Very much. You could feel it.” Charlie awkwardly places a hand over his crotch, hiding the evidence. “But you’re new to this, Red, and I don’t think you should rush it. You might feel guilty tomorrow. My first time, I wasn’t sure. I needed time to think it through. Maybe next time we can, you know . . .”
Thomas is keenly aware of the space between them. “Is there going to be a next time? I thought you only went to the club every now and again.”
“I do. Normally. But maybe I can make an exception. Maybe I can sneak away and see you there next Saturday night.” A small smile appears on Charlie’s face, hopeful and for the first time maybe a little nervous. “Is it a date, Red?”
Thomas exhales, relieved. “Yeah, Charlie. It’s a date.” They both stand there for a charged moment, grinning goofily. Then Thomas asks, “What did you . . . could you tell me what you meant by your first time?”
Charlie shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets, eyes dropping to the ground. “You know . . . kissing and . . . touching another man. You’ve kissed a girl before, ain’t you?” Charlie looks up, concerned.
“Just one—Alma May. Well, she kissed me. She was my date to the senior school dance. It was quick, and I didn’t mind it, I guess, but it wasn’t like . . . this. It felt nothing like kissing you.” Thomas steps closer, chest swelling with longing. “Can I kiss you again? A goodbye kiss. To last me until next week.”
Charlie flushes anew. “Yeah, Red. You can kiss me.”
Thomas cups Charlie’s face with both hands, unsure why he does it, but recognizing immediately that it just feels right. He leans in, tilting his head and slotting their lips together. Softly. Tenderly. It’s a different sort of kiss than their first, and he can’t help but press his lips to Charlie’s a few more times, each onelike a caress. Thomas tries sucking Charlie’s bottom lip between his own, arousal once again bubbling like liquid molten in his gut. He forces himself to pull away. How will he last seven whole days until he can see Charlie again?
Chapter 3
July 15th, 1943
To my dearest Red,
I’m worried you’re not coping all alone in the house. I know it’s got to be hard being the one left behind, but please know that I miss you more and more with each passing day. We’ve got to stay strong, cause this war is unlike anything you could ever imagine. But I don’t want you to ever know of it. Red, don’t even think about doing what you wanted to do without me there to convince you otherwise. I would never forgive you, and I ain’t clowning around. I need to know you’re safe and that you’ll be there when I get home. Because I will, Red—I will come home to you.
We arrived two days ago, but we can’t say where we are or give any details in our letters in case they’re intercepted by spies. We’ve settled into camp but seen no action yet. We see all the wounded being brought back from the front though. And the dead. We hear the bombs and the gunfire in the distance. I won’t talk about it too much cause I know it’ll just upset you. I’m doing fine, Red. I’ve been through enough in my life to get through this, too. If I endured my father, then I can endure the fucking Nazis.
My commanding officeris Lieutenant Stone, and so far, he’s been a hell of a lot nicer than the boot camp sergeants. There’s a couple of boys who ain’t so bad—Henry Wilson is a funny guy and keeps us all laughing. He’s about six feet tall with the whitest hair you ever saw and a face only his ma could love, but he seems all right. Billy Johnson is colored, although you can barely tell, and some of the boys seem to have a problem with him getting assigned to our regiment instead of one of those all-colored ones like usual. But not me—Johnson seems like the sort you’d want to go into battle with. Tough as fucking nails, so he’s got my respect. We shared a few smokes and some friendly conversation on the way over here. Now I know what you’re thinking, Red, but it ain’t like that. Johnson is happily married, and he’s got a kid and all, even though he’s only 21. A lot of the boys here are only 18 or 19. I swear their faces are as smooth as a baby’s ass. I’m one of the older ones. I’ll try to keep my eye on them cause they’re trigger-happy and foolish as only the young can be.
Have you written to me yet? I’m waiting for your letter. Are you still going to family dinners on Friday nights? You need to keep that up, even if you’re feeling low. I’m worried you’re going to have one of those low times and I won’t be there to help you. Promise me you’ll reach out to Bridget. Or even Michael. No excuses, Red, you need your family now.
How’s work? You still miss being in the classroom teaching, don’t you? But you’re doing great in your new position, and I’m so proud of you. I like to think of you heading off to the school each morning. I love how kind you are to the students and how much they respect you. Maybe if I had a teacher like you when I was a kid, I would have wanted to stay in school longer. I would have had abig crush on you and started trouble just to get detention. I know you just smiled when you read that, didn’t you?
Christ, I miss you, sweetheart. I lie awake at night and think of you. When I’m sure the others are asleep, I touch myself. I imagine you kissing me and whispering sweet words to me. I feel hollow all the time. My chest hurts, and my heart calls for you.
Can you stay faithful to me, Red? I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I do. The thought of you with someone else sends me crazy with jealousy. But I trust you. I do.
If you get a chance, can you drop in at Jimmy’s and see how all the boys are doing? Tell ’em I made it over here all right and I don’t miss their ugly mugs at all. I also don’t miss being covered in grease every day, though I’ll probably just be covered in mud now instead. I clean my gun a lot. I disassemble it and then put it back together just to keep my hands busy, but it’s not the same as working on the engine of a car. Hopefully Jimmy can give me my job back once this fucking war is over.
It’s nearly lights out, so I need to stop writing. Tomorrow we’re heading toward the front line. Pray for me, Red. I’ll be thinking of you. Love you always, sweetheart. I’ll write as often as I can, I promise.
Love, Charlie xx
Chapter 4
October 1937
Charlie
Charlie puffs on his third Lucky Strike as he stands outside Wilson Junior College, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other. It’s Wednesday afternoon, just after five o’clock on a surprisingly warm day. Jimmy let him take off early as business was slow, and somehow he ended up here. Waiting. His palms are perspiring, and the back of his shirt is damp with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his skin. As for his heart—it hasn’t stopped its relentless gallop since Saturday night. Since meetinghim. Since Thomas.
Going to that club was reckless enough, but what he did with Thomas—taking him down to the docks, telling him about his life, kissing him like that—it was downright dangerous. Charlie wonders if he’s lost all sense of reason.
Since parting ways with Thomas, he’s thought of nothing else for four straight days. It’s like Thomas O’Reilly has slipped under his skin and taken control of all his faculties. Charlie’s first thoughts upon waking each morning are of the gorgeous redhead. As he works with his head under the hood of a car all day, his mind concocts scenarios—silly romanticones where they share a secret kiss in the back of a dark theater or drink beer while they shoot pool. And then there are the filthy thoughts that have him desperately seeking release in the dead of night.
Thomas O’Reilly is stripping him of his fortitude.
Thomas O’Reilly is the manifestation of every unspoken desire he has spent years convincing himself he didn’t want, let alone need.
