Authors: Maxwell Tibor
Dear Soldier Boy (13 page)
Vivian
Chapter Thirty
From:
[email protected]
Sent: 9/2/16 00:37
To:
[email protected]
Dear Civilian Girl,
Stop watching C-SPAN. Seriously, take a
break from the news until I get home. If you hear nothing, it just means all is
well. You’re stuck with me, Civilian Girl.
Sorry about the radio silence. I
couldn’t contact you for reasons I can't say. Always reasons. You watch the news, you know
why. I missed you. I’ve never met you, but I missed you. I know that is crazy. I missed sitting down to write to you. I haven’t even had time to open the lotion, which is a crying shame, since I have had so much material to work with since your last email. Who knew bath time could be so much fun? But what is this crap about me not fitting in the tub with you? We will make that happen. I shouldn’t brag, but I’m an expert in fitting large things into small spaces.
Give Duke an extra treat from daddy.
Good boy, keeping the men away. I knew I loved our dog. He makes all the crap
with Mark worth it, like our silver lining.
I've been thinking a lot about silver
linings, and serendipity, and just the way things work out. Any soldier could
have picked up your letter, but it was me. I think about the moments that led
up to that point, like why you were writing to a soldier in the first place, and
why I needed a letter. A lot of shit led up to that point for both of us. But
this came out of it, you, the best thing in my life, came out of the worst. I
feel guilty for that, for being happy when I have no right to be. Do you ever
feel like that? Is it OK to be happy
when the things that make it possible are sad? I don’t know the answer. Sorry, I
don’t know why I am thinking about this so much. Probably because you are becoming
real. You have been just an idea for so long. And now, I have to face that my
happiness is built on somebody’s tragedy. Or maybe everyone’s happiness is
built on someone’s tragedy. I don’t know, Civilian Girl. I’m tired. Best not to
think too hard in this state.
I should get some sleep, but I wanted to
write to you. And honestly, I don’t really want to go to sleep. I’ve started
dreaming again. I haven’t dreamed in a long time. Usually, I am too tired, and sleep
is just a black oblivion, but I have started to have my coming home dream. It
usually starts about a week before I come home and lasts for a few nights
after. This time, it started early. It isn’t a bad dream, just frustrating; I’m
trying to get home, but I miss my flight. I’m standing on the runway, screaming,
but nothing is coming out, so I go to the train station, but it's closed. It's a dream, so Grand Central Station is in the middle of Kabul. When I get there, I
try to buy a ticket, but when I speak, it's just gibberish. No one can
understand me, so I can’t buy a ticket, and they end up dragging me out of the
station. So, I try to get on a boat, and then I’m hitchhiking. No one can
understand what I’m saying, so I keep missing my chances, and then finally, I
decide I have to walk through the desert. This part of the dream is always the
same, I’m always in the desert, and the sand gets so hot that it melts and
starts pulling me under. I’m almost there, and my feet are on fire, so I cut them
off. That is always where I wake up. It isn’t scary, just exhausting. I never feel
like I’ve slept.
Have I bored you enough with my dreams?
You are probably nodding off over there. I’m sorry. I’ve just been very
introspective lately. Again, I blame it on being excited to see you. That must be what it is. This funk will lift
as soon as I see you.
Are you worried? That we won’t like each
other in person? That we won’t click? Or, God forbid, we are not sexually
compatible? Maybe you like the position on page two and I am a diehard fan of
page seventy? Which I am, by the way, in the shower.
I’m not worried. Mostly because I am
great at page two. And because, in the worst-case scenario, we retreat to separate
sides of the house and email each other. You can have your private time with your bath, and I’ll have mine with my lotion and pictures of you. It’s all good.
Was the story about your mom being
worried allegorical? Are you the one who is scared? It’s OK if you are. I’m
sure about us. As long as one of us is, it will be OK. Like when I needed you
to be strong for me, I can be sure for you. Isn’t that what relationships are? As
long as only one of us is keeping it together at all times, we are golden. We
can take it in turns. Looks like I’m up first. And that’s OK, you will get your
shot, soon enough, I’m sure.
Thank you for the care package. I haven’t
opened the Nutella yet. I’ve not had time for that either. I think that speaks
volumes about my lack of downtime. Not to worry, we will have plenty of time to
eat Nutella in two months. Just need to
keep counting down until then. And yes, I’ll sit on the couch and read romance
novels with you after you watch the Diehard movies with me. I’ve never read a
romance novel before, since I don’t have ovaries, but hell, I’m game.
Right handed, by the way, but I take hot
things out of the oven with my left. Favorite books are
One Flew Over the
Cuckoo’s Nest
and
Of Mice and Men
. They are very similar. Try reading them back-to-back and you will see it.
Anymore get to know you questions? Are
those cold feet warming up yet? Keep the questions coming, if that is what it
takes. We’ll be fine. We've got this.
Now, I really need to try to get some
sleep. Here’s hoping no dreams tonight. Or just dreams of you.
Love,
Matthew
P.S.
Yep, I’m still celibate. But not for
long!
Chapter Thirty-one
[email protected]
Sent 9/8/16
Dear Soldier Boy,
Can I just say, I might have been on the fence about you, but then you mentioned the word allegorical, and swoon, I’m officially all-in. So, if you happened to be wavering, forget about it now. I didn’t want to mention this earlier, but the reason I don’t go to church is because I’m a Voodoo Queen. That first letter I had put a spell on, and thankfully for my amazing potion, it worked. Yay me! Well, yay us and our children, and really the world, because we do belong together, Matthew. Don’t you feel it, Soldier Boy? That part is not a joke; I really do feel it. I can’t wait to feel you in person. I bet the GI Joe can’t wait either; the poor guy has been touched a bit too much. Haha, just kidding. I really should stop saying such wacky things to you, but it’s like I sit here at my computer, and it just falls from my mind to the keys in front of me. Obviously, I could just hit the delete button so you wouldn’t see and experience the oddness of my brain, but I feel like you should. I feel like you should know how I think, and that way, you can be really sure. About me and us. I need you to be sure.
I’ve already got your name tattooed on me but I wanted to go one step further. I’m still thinking about what that could be, to show you how much I love you and how sure I am. The tattoo reads, “I heart Matthew.” Except, it doesn’t read “heart,” it is the actual image of a heart in a nice, bright red. It’s similar to the “I heart mom” tattoos. I’m sure you’re familiar. Anyway, it’s very classy. I had it outlined in black to really bring the red to light. It’s on my….well you’ll just have to find it. Or maybe you won’t…but enjoy the hunt, right?
Do you have any tattoos? I probably should have asked that in my very first letter. But that might have seen a bit forward, and by all means, I definitely did not want to come across as being too inquisitive. But now, given everything, I can say that if you have a tattoo, I will be entertained as I search your body for it.
Matthew, are you good with dates? If not, I found this website where you can have a keychain made with a certain month printed on a metal square and the date circled. I figured I could have this made for you for every significant date between us that needs to be remembered. Do you know what date will be the most important? I don’t even want to type it anymore because it makes me so nervous. Not nervous about not connecting with you and all that nonsense, but nervous about my weight-haha. Just kidding. No, I’m nervous because it’s so close. I can almost imagine myself in my kitchen, changing my calendar from October to November. I’ve already looked at November a zillion times, and circled, and made confetti, and balloons, and a heart on the 27
th
, but when that moment happens, and I officially change the calendar from October to November, it will be so awesome.
I don’t even know if I can handle that. I’ll probably faint, and with no one there to catch me, I’ll end up hitting my head. And then you’ll come back to me being in a coma. Wow, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say something like that. But seriously, Matthew, if I were ever to be in a coma, I want you to know that, somewhere inside my brain, I still love you. I will always love you. So, even though we aren’t married, bring this letter to the hospital and show it to the staff, to prove that I love you and that I want you to be with me in the room until I wake.
I’m sure I’ll look like a real-life version of Sleeping Beauty, so go ahead and kiss me, but none of that necrophilia stuff, because it freaks me out. Okay…forget it, I give you permission…you will have been celibate for a long time, so if you return and I’m in a coma in the hospital, go ahead and you know…do it. But at least kiss me first. Show me some form of romance, okay?
Now that we’ve gotten the necrophilia/coma situation out of the way, I think we’re good to go, right?
Stop watching C-SPAN…and miss your 15 minutes of fame? No way! Duke and I sit in front of the TV every night and every morning, hoping we might see you and you’ll mouth, “Hi Vivian” to me. (Don’t tell Duke, but he’s hoping you might mention the “t” word. I can’t even type it because he’s already had five today. Anymore, and we’ll have to go for another jog. And we’ve already gone three times today.) I saw this expl—I can’t say it. I don’t want to write about things like that to you, but anyway, I saw something upsetting, and I had to get out. I couldn’t be inside. I needed to run. It was like the room was losing all oxygen and all my air was being sucked from in front of me. The walls were spinning and—I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn’t write things like that to you.
Here, let me tell you something happy. I’m looking forward to seeing you in my bath tub. I’m excited about it and even more so that you are able to fit large things in small spaces. (Insert you know what x 2). ;)
Wow, that was a double entendre if I ever typed one! Haha! ;)
I hope you didn’t have any more horrible dreams. DO NOT MISS THE PLANE. Matthew, I hope that was just anxiety and not some weird, awful premonition. Don’t do that to me. Let me tell you about one of my dreams. We are sitting at my table, having tea with all of my Barbies. Ken is sitting next to you because you have this “bromance” thing going on. Which, by the way, Malibu Barbie (her real name is Trixie, but I think that sounds a little slutty and I’m trying to help improve her image, so we are just going to refer to her as MB for now), anyway MB is not happy about the bromance. Ken and you have really been spending a little too much time together. First, you took him to the batting cage, which was okay, but then, the movies? I was even put off about that. Oh, back to my dream. So, we’re at our table having tea and crumpets (I don’t even know what crumpets are but in the dream that is what we are having), and I take a sip of my tea, and then you get down on your knees, and all of my Barbies gasp. I would too, but I just took a sip of tea, and despite all of my suggestions and innuendos, I am a certified lady (I have the certificate in my office in case you want to check it out). So, there you are, on your knees, and I take my cup, and place it gently on my saucer, and swallow (you know what goes here). And then poof, I wake up!
And by the way, speaking of waking up, I am very excited about page seventy and page two. Since you have delighted me with details of your strength, (which will be needed given my size ;)), I think you should take a look at pages forty-five, fifty-five, and sixty-five, as it comes (again) with a warning not to try unless you want to push your sexual limits, and I’m pretty sure we do, right?
Matthew, my feet are on fire, just like (well, if you were thinking something in the downtown area, that would not necessarily be good. Promise, that area is a-okay), my heart is on fire. Please come back soon, before I go up in flames.
With Love, Your Civilian Girl,
Vivian
Chapter Thirty-Two
