“My dear Goddard,”I begin.“I know it is silly, but if you’ll turn this paper over you’ll see where I’ve borrowed my sister’s lip color and pressed a kiss to send to you—it is all I can do to give you my love! I had to be careful, because I would get quite a telling off if she knew.”
“I would be allowed to use Juliet’s lipstick, but I would need express permission,” Aurora says, her voice musing. She takes another drink of her water. “And heaven forbid I don’t put it back in its place.” Then she gestures to me. “Go on. You sound exactly like a young woman. This is your calling.”
“It’s a gift,” I agree. Then I go on. “I wish that I could fill this letter with all manner of adorations and poetry about how I adore you,” I read,“but I am not a poet, you know, and anyway I have other news, which is that my sister is coming out to St. Louis to visit her dear friends, only these are her first travels on her own, so please see her while she’s there, won’t you? I’ve enclosed the address of where she’ll be staying and when she’ll arrive, and every moment she’s with you I’ll be jealous that I am not. I am still saving to come see you, of course, but my efforts have not been so unfettered as hers who has nothing to buy like food or medicines. She glows with excitement, so I cannot begrudge her too much.”
“You know, I didn’t know Denice had a brother until you came to work at Soul2Soul,” Aurora says now, and I nod, giving the letter a little wave.
“I told you—I’m the philandering, layabout son. In this scenario I would be the carefree, unfettered younger sibling.”
She gives me a skeptical look at this. “Philandering?”
“Well,” I admit. “Maybe not philandering. But the rest stands.” Then, because I don’t love where the conversation is headed, I say, “Moving on.” I skim through the loopy writinguntil I find where I left off. “Oh—here.Mama is somewhat paler these days, which is worrying, but also I have been able to convince her to rest more, to my relief. I suppose in some ways I’m glad to barely remember Papa, so I don’t miss him as horribly, but I do wish he were here.”
“Sad,” Aurora says with a little frown.
I nod. “And I wish you were here, and I tell you this because you are my dearest and my love and my confidant—sometimes I wish instead that I were with you there, that we were together at last and my mind and heart could be unburdened even briefly. Please send photos of yourself. I may use the excuse that I worry I won’t recognize you when we next meet, but in truth I just want to be able to look at you whenever I please. Include a photo or two of the city, too, because it sounds exciting. Yours in anguished longing, Your Love.”
“You know, I don’t mind PDA,” I say after a second of silence in the little kitchen, “but I bet these two were sickening when they were together.”
Aurora gives me a little smile and a reluctant nod. “I agree.”
I turn the paper over and find, in one corner, the faintest trace of a lipstick kiss. I grin at this, because into my mind pops the image of my ancient grandmother kissing this paper with her wrinkled lips and giant glasses.
I refold the note and open the second one, which sure enough contains my grandfather’s scrawling writing.
“Okay,” I say, peering at the letter. “This one is from my grandpa.”
Aurora nods again and downs the rest of her glass of water, setting it back on the counter with aclink.“Proceed.”
It’s nice to see her like this, relaxed and presumably enjoying herself—there’s less tension in her body, and she’s lost much of the storm that was brewing behind her eyes after we came back from Tyler’s.
So I begin reading my grandfather’s letter, again adopting a deep voice.
“To my sweetheart”—I look up and wink at Aurora, who rolls her eyes but also has to suppress a smile—“Of course I will take good care of your sister, and enclosed is a photograph—yours truly, am I as handsome as you remember? It’s not so professional as the kind you pay for, but I don’t have the money to spend on that. I’ll send more photos soon, and I will not put on lipstick, but you can consider this paper as having been kissed by myself.”
“Is there a picture?” Aurora says, straightening up, but when I peek into the envelope, I shake my head.
“No. Just the letters.” I clear my throat and go on.“You will recognize me, I am certain, and I you. You remain as of yet the only creature to have captured my attentions, which in the past have been so easily swayed—but it seems you have tamed them into something grudgingly complicit, against which I have no argument except to long for you more.”I break off at this, raising my brow at the papers in my hand as though my grandfather is in front of me. Then I look at Aurora, who’s wearing a similar expression.
“A real charmer,” she says.
“Please continue to write, even though time stretches between us—your tidings of love are what lift me from the tedium of my life here. Yours etc., Goddard.”I shake my head. “So romantic, Goddard,” I say with a snort. “Your attentions were easily swayed? What woman wants to hear that from her fiancé?”
I place the letters gently back in the envelope, and Aurora sighs.
“People change,” she murmurs, to herself more than to me, “and people stay the same.”
When she looks up to see me giving her a questioning glance, she shakes her head.
“Nothing. Just—talking to myself.” She straightens up and rounds the counter, looking down at the mess still on the floor. “Let’s clear this up.” But she pauses as her gaze darts over the remains of my pantry items. “Is that…a spice rack?”
“I’m allowed to like spices,” I say, setting the letters aside, and she holds up her hands.
“You’re allowed to like spices,” she says, crouching down and picking up the half-empty rack before placing it on the table. “I’m just surprised.”
“Why?” I raise my eyebrows at her. “Did you have expectations? I’m flattered.”
She snorts at this. “I don’t think about you enough to have expectations.” After a pause, she adds, “It’s just...”
