Dear Soldier Boy (5 page)

Point number seven: the hint. Verificare? Is that verify in Italian? What would I need to verify? That you are killing me?
Just tell me one thing: is your partner the
guy in the tux? You know, from the picture with you in the red dress that makes
me think ungentlemanly things? Yeah, that one.
Ok, well, I better sign off before I go off-script. I've covered everything on my list. You've seen what happens when I
get off-topic.
Great, now I'm thinking about you in your
colossal bed. And things were going so well. I was being a gentleman, and I
hadn’t mentioned cannibalism in at least a page. Oh well.

Good night, Civilian
Girl.
Love,
Soldier Boy
Oh! I almost forgot. I put in two more
pictures, just so you know I am not grossly deformed. The first one was taken on
my last tour. I was on the Pakistani border. The lighting isn’t great, but that is me in front of the tank. The second picture is Luke and I when I was three, I think. Luke was two. And yes, my dad gave us buzz cuts as soon as we had hair. I'm not even sure why I have the picture on my phone, but now you can see what Patton will probably look like. And Dunwoody is a great name. Let’s face it, my daughter will be able to shut down any haters. She will probably be about your size at birth. Let me apologize in advance for the size of our babies. Yeah, that is going to be rough. But you are strong, and anesthesia has come on a long way since women were biting on sticks to muffle the screams. But still…I’m sorry.
 

Chapter Nine

[email protected]
Sent 1/20/15

[email protected]

Dear Soldier Boy,                                                                                                  

First of all, I’m so happy that the toppings made their way to your stomach. And I’m glad that you shared your insatiable appetite with me. Now, I know our honeymoon location will need to be close to civilization so that you do not eat me, per your cannibalistic nature.

Ha, yes, I have seen
Goonies
. Such a great movie. Goonies Forever! I love those rocks in the water. When I was in Spain, I saw similar rock structures. It made me think of
Goonies
and the possibility of this special place filled with treasure. I bet you get that same feeling when you look out at the sand dunes in Afghanistan.

Wow,
6'4"
that is really tall. Your legs must be really long too. I bet that’s why you enjoy climbing and giving them such a work out? I’m almost embarrassed to say how tall I am. No, my friends are not Amazonians, they are just average height. I’m 5'3". Well, technically I’m 5'2-½", but I’m a smidge above the halfway point, so I think it makes sense to round up.

The guy in the tux is my boyfriend. Ha! Just kidding, that’s Julian. He is my go-to date. He has been since high school. Yes, he’s good looking, tall, successful, and funny. But he has never laid a hand on me. I’m not sure if he’s gay, asexual, or just not into me, but anyway. Whenever either of us has some sort of wedding or function requiring a plus one, we call each other. Our parents have tried the whole why-don't-you-two-get-married business, but we just laugh it off and exit the room. Like I said, he’s never mentioned anything sexual to me, so I figure if he wants to share something with me when he’s ready, then he will.

Tempting to hear your voice. So very tempting, Matthew, but I think I’m going to have some self-control. I feel like it wouldn’t be the same to hear you on a recording. Or, maybe it’s because I’m not sure if I’m ready, or if I would prefer hearing it in real life, like when you’re whispering in my ear as we dance our first dance. ;) Or maybe when you say “I Do,” though, I would hope that I would get to hear it prior to that. Haha!

By the way, my voice is kind of like Fran Drescher. Haha, just kidding. It’s not. Maybe, I’ll get one of those stuffed animals where you can record your voice and send it to you. This would probably go over real well in your tent? Are you in a tent? What’s your nighttime ritual like? For me, I adjust all of my Barbies into their sleeping positions and make sure to turn on the nightlights in each socket. They are also Barbies by the way. One is Skipper, one is Malibu Barbie, and the other is Ken. Haha, just kidding. I don’t have any Barbies. Well, not anymore. I do have one Barbie in a Vera Wang wedding dress in my parent’s attic. I’ll have to get that out so she can sit on the altar and watch as we swap our vows. We’ll put a GI Joe next to her so she can finally have her happily ever after. She really deserves her special moment, especially given all those years living in the attic. But she can’t outshine me, no matter how much better she looks in her wedding dress.

Yikes, I shouldn’t have been so silly about the Barbies. Especially since—now I’m hiding under the covers as I write this to you—I haven’t seen any of the
Diehard
movies. Ack! Don’t hate me.

Ultra-Marathon?!?!?!?! I can’t even imagine. Wow, that is incredible. And makes me realize you must have a lot of stamina. Which makes this girl really happy. ;)

I’ve never tried spinning. I work out at our gym at work, but I prefer to run outside. I’ve considered getting my own weight collection. Do you know how many times I’m interrupted so that someone can show me a better way to hold my hands or lower the bar? Seriously, it’s like double time with weightlifting, which is probably another reason I hate it so much. Even with my headphones in, people have no problem interrupting me. It’s not like I put a sign next to my station saying, “Hey everyone, I’m clueless, please assist.”

Do you have weights? Or do you just do like, a zillion push-ups a day?

Thanks about my Christmas. I’m sorry I vented. I’ve never shared any of that with anyone, not even Millie and Liz. And yet, it felt so right and comfortable to share with you. Afterwards, I realized it was really insensitive to moan about my Christmas, so I’m sorry.

Haha, yes, I did avoid pronouns about my partner. Which is not easy. Even now, I almost typed the gender to say something, but then I realized I have to refer to my partner as my partner, and that will help to avoid the gender situation. Speaking of my partner…they messed up big. I’m tied to the report because we are partners, but it’s bad. I tend to avoid all news because it’s depressing, but my boss has been bringing in the stacks of newspapers and waving them around at us. He’s really upset, and he should be.

Now, on to your photos. Even with a buzz cut, you were a cute baby. This is good, as we need to have cute kids, especially for Dunwoody’s sake and that name. And now you’re mentioning how large they are going to be and labor? Right before I go to bed. It’s after midnight here. I got home from work just after eleven. Happy Wednesday, am I right? ;)

Since, I don’t want to think about large babies and birthing situations before I fall asleep, I’m going to look at your other photo. I’ve never been one of those “I love a man in uniform” people, but, wow…I guess I’m a changed woman. You’ve converted me, Soldier Boy. I’ll take one more “glance” at your photo, and then I’ll think about how much you like to work out, and your stamina, and I’m going to call it a night in my colossal size bed.

Oh, and I sleep nude. I hope that’s okay with you?

Night night,

Vivian

Chapter Ten

From:
[email protected]
Sent: 1/20/16 22:59
To:
[email protected]
Dear Civilian Girl,
Guess what came in the mail today? My
testicles, thank you. Honestly woman, I do my best to keep it G-rated with you,
and then you send me things to put on my balls. You’re killing me. I will be
needing a remedy for blue balls next. Though, I see you covered that with the
bottle of unscented lotion. According to the bottle, it is suitable for even
the most sensitive areas. I will have to get back to you on that one. At the
moment, I am bedding down with fifty other men. No alone time, so no need of
lotion. But I thank you in advance, because we both know I will be thinking of
you when I do get to use it.
Here is the thing, Vivian. I am incredibly
attracted to you, like insanely so. It defies reason how into you I am. This
makes no sense. Yes, you are beautiful, but we haven’t even met. And we never
will.
It's my turn to feel remorseful and
apologize for saying something I shouldn’t have. I really like what we have
going on between us. Reading your letters is my favorite time of the day. I
carry them with me and read them more often than I am willing to admit. Every
day I get excited when the mail comes, because there is a chance there will be a
letter from you. And the chime of my email is, quite literally, my favorite
sound. It's like a drug; I get this hit every time you write to me, and I love
it. I can admit that. It's what gets me through the day.
I know we joke about meeting in real life
and making something of this, but we can’t. And no, it isn’t because of my job,
though that is not ideal. Even in a perfect world, we would only see each other
when I am on leave.
Even if I were stationed Stateside, this
wouldn’t work, and it kind of pisses me off. No, strike that; it really pisses me
off. You are exactly the woman I want. I can’t even say “kind of woman I want,”
because I have never met anyone else like you. There is nobody else like you.
You are outrageous, and funny, and so incredibly sexy, and somehow, you find my
attempts at humor funny.
So, what is the problem? I mean, I want you,
and you miraculously seem to tolerate me. Well, I am the problem. I didn’t want
to tell you this, but I have been going through some stuff for the last few
months. Basically, our timing is shit. If I had gotten your letter last year,
shit, I don’t even want to think about it. Things would be different. God, they
would be different.
You never asked me how I got your letter.
Anyone could have gotten it. Why was I rifling through Dear Soldier letters? The
shrink told me I should. Apparently, it is a way to stay grounded and in touch
with the real world. This should have you running a mile in the opposite
direction, the fact that I am seeing a shrink, the fact I need something to
tether me to reality. Geez, I never wanted to tell you any of this.
But you deserve to know that I am not just
jerking you around. Something happened. There was an incident—that is what we
are calling it. Now, I’m probably scaring you. You probably think I'm a real
whack job. God, it is nothing like that. Or maybe it is. Shit, it is war. That's
what it is. Things happen. Mistakes. Shit.
If you’re still reading this, I’m sorry. I'm sorry for swearing. I’m sorry for jerking you around. I’m sorry for making
you think that something could actually happen between us.
I had no right to ask you about the guy in
the tux. Yes, I'm jealous. But I have no right to be. I have no claim on you,
and I would be a selfish bastard to ask you to wait for me. Because you would
not be waiting for my tour to end. You would be waiting for me to be the person
I was before, and that just isn’t going to happen.
Vivian, you are amazing. I want you to be
happy, and I know that will never be with me. I want to keep writing to you. I
don’t want to give that up. Your letters have become everything to me. But we
can only keep doing this if we both acknowledge where we are at. We need some ground rules. First, I don’t want
to talk about the incident. Talking about it doesn’t help, and I don’t want that
part of my life bleeding onto this and ruining the only good thing I have at
the moment.
Second, I need you to promise to start
dating. I don’t want to hold you back. What we have is fun, but it isn’t real. I am happy to flirt with
you to the point of sexual harassment, but only if we both know it will only
ever be a fantasy.
When the time comes, and you have a man in
your life, a serious relationship, I will step aside. God knows I would
not want my woman speaking to another man the way we speak to each other. I’m
not just talking about the innuendos, I'm talking about the secrets we tell
each other. Your secrets won’t always belong to me. At some point, they will
belong to him. I don’t even know who this hypothetical “him” is, but if I met
him, I would punch him, and then punch him again. I really hate the
asshole, so thank God I will never actually meet him.
OK, enough ranting from me. Good night,
Civilian Girl. I totally understand if you don’t write back. If I were a better
man, I would advise you not to. But when it comes to you, I am selfish.
Shit. I’ve said too much.
Matthew