"Ed? Ed! You better not be running away from answering me." I don't follow him this time. I hope he's just taking a moment to pull himself together before he comes clean, because I won't be leaving until he does.
Picking up the kettle, I place it on its base and turn it on. Both of us are likely to need a cup of tea when he finds it within himself to be brave with the truth.
I pull two cups out of the cupboard, measure two teaspoons of loose leaves into the teapot, and sit down at the table.
There are soft footfalls behind me and then Ed is reaching over me and placing a small pile of papers in front of me.
"What's this?"
Ed's voice is low. "The real letters."
I pick up the first piece of paper. "What do you mean?"
"I wrote one genuine letter for every letter I wrote as the soldier."
I still don't know what he means. "A genuine one?"
"One from the heart of Ed, not from the imagined heart of someone you've never met."
The heart of Ed.I scan the first one to find out what the heart of Ed might hold. The letter is different from the one Ed wrote as the soldier's, but there are echoes and it becomes immediately obvious just what is inside Ed's heart.
My own heart kicks up in pace, and with each of its pumps, phosphorescence pushes out through my veins, leaving trails of light.
My darling Bess,
I have never felt more moved. Watching you read the soldier's letter and being affected all the way to your soul?
It was utterly beautiful. You are beautiful.
And now I have a chance to provoke that same reaction in you by writing a second, counterfeit letter and it feels like a remarkable and frightening power – to be able to influence your deepest emotions through a mere piece of writing.
I don't want to do it. I don't want to have a hold over you I haven't earned.
But I also desperately yearn for that privilege. I can't wait to see you stirred by language I penned, by words that might not be authentic, but still carry the truth of my feelings for you. And I'm fearful of what the effect might be on me when you do read them, and love them, and cry over them. It might make things even more unbearable.
When I first saw you in my library and you pulled the 'I can't remember what the book was called' caper, everything stopped. My heart, my breath, the world around us.
It's your extraordinary eyes. I struggle under the weight of your gaze. My heart stutters whenever you look at me. I don't know how you don't see it written across my face, oozing from my very being. My adoration of you is as much a part of me now as the colour of my skin or my aversion to Kanye West.
A single, surprised bubble of laughter escapes from my lungs. This is exactly my Ed, who always seeks to make me laugh, even when he probably shouldn't.
Oh, Bess. You have no idea what the things you say, the way you move, the way youare,do to me.
How could Inotwrite a love letter to you, inauthentic or otherwise?
I'm just sorry you may never have an opportunity to experience it for real. To live words written in love just for you, inspired by you and the incredible woman you are. I know very well I am writing into the void and these letters are only for my benefit. But I want a record of the depth of my emotions when the time comes for me to finally let go and move on.
I don't know what it will take to make that happen. My love for you has grown into a terrible thing of frantic yearning and longing that has made the last year so very difficult.
In the meantime, I'm determined to celebrate the precious feelings I hold for you. Love is such a rare and tender gift. It's not given lightly, and you absolutely deserve every ounce of what I feel, regardless of you not returning those affections.
Why are you deserving? Because you are fearless, and outspoken, and passionate, and funny, and loyal, and nurturing, and selfless. And you value me for who I am. It's that beauty – so much more than your physical beauty – that makes you worth loving.
You are worth loving. And you don't ever have to prove it.
I don't know how long it will take for me to move on, but I do know that in this moment, in the last year of moments I've shared with you,
I love you.
