Cassie
“Alright, class. Open your math booklets to yesterday’s lesson and begin where we left off. I’ll come around to check on everyone and help as you need, then we’ll do some equations together on the whiteboard.”
Once the students begin and the room is mostly quiet, aside from the calming noise machine in the corner and the small water fountain near the window, I begin sorting through the mail in my teacher’s box. Most are from the school board, things I’ll read after I get home, but I get to the second-to-last envelope, with a familiar scrawl on the front, and I let out an audible gasp and drop into my chair. The students look up, and a couple ask if I’m alright. Assuring them I am, I stare at the sealed envelope.
Tomas Drapper.
It’s been months, and he’s finally written me back.
Only…there’s no stamp marking, meaning he had to have hand-delivered it. How did he know where I am? How do I write him back?Do I write him back?What does this mean?
I’m so confused. And emotional.
The first round of fertility treatment from yesterday makes me teary-eyed more than usual, and when a fat drop of liquid lands on the envelope, I quickly wipe the rest away.
“Miss Jones, are you okay?” My head pops up to find three students standing in front of me.
“Yes, I’m fine, sorry. Please continue your work.” They share a look, doubting me, but do as I ask.
The day passes like a silent, slow-motion black-and-white movie. Everything continues on, but where do I fall into any of it? I bring home more assignments to grade than I typically would over the weekend, but I’m still lost, wondering what’s in that letter and how he found me.
Pulling into my garage, I give Clide a quick wave before the door closes, then allow myself a moment just to cry.How did he know to show up now?I’m supposed to go to the clinic tomorrow for my first insemination appointment.
I grab my bag, letter tucked in the side pocket, and head inside. After setting the kettle to boil, I plod upstairs and strip down to my panties before grabbing an old Army shirt of Tommy’s and slipping it on.
Tucking my feet into some fuzzy socks, I return to the kitchen while twisting my hair up into a knot. The kettle whistles as I drop a tea bag into a mug, then pour the hot water over top, get out a packet of white hot chocolate, and sit at the small island.
Taking out the letter, I gently open it, pull out the slim piece of paper, unfold it, and place it on the countertop as I mix my chai tea. With the white hot chocolate, it tastes like Christmas, and I can’t get enough. Especially when I’m emotional. After taking a sip, I pull the letter closer and begin to read.
Dear Cassie-bell,
I’m sorry. I have no excuse for not responding sooner. Not one that’s good enough. Not one that would make sense. And not one that I could explain on paper.
I’ve missed you every day since I’ve been gone. More so when your letters stopped arriving. I’m sorry my family left without a word; that’s an explanation for another day.
I’m even more sorry that for a second you thought you’d done something wrong.
Don’t you know, Cassie-bell, you could never do anything wrong.
I love you, Cassie, and I still want forever with you. I want a lifetime of you, me, and our children. I want hours upon hours of exploring your body. Discovering what makes you sigh, what has you laughing, and how I can make you scream.
I know that got wicked fast, but I have regrets, and I know you’re trying to get pregnant. I’m begging for time… There’s so much to say and not enough words to convey what happened. But please, Cassie, please, don’t give up on me. I want the future we always spoke of. The dreams we created together.
I’m a little… Broken right now.
I’m not who I was the last time I left. I wish I’d done things differently. Especially when I discovered you moved. I’m so proud of you, Cassie. Your own class! I’m not surprised at all.
Please, Cassie, I love you with everything I am.
Please, don’t let another man's seed take root inside of you before I get the chance to do it first. Let me show you I mean every word.
If you can find it in you to forgive me, write me back, place it in your mailbox, and I’ll stop by every morning to see if you’ve written to me.
I love you, Cassie-bell.
Yours,
T
