Mon amour, I think about you all the time, especially in bed, and I’m often reduced to makeshift. I picture your sweet body, its every curve and crevice, your plump breasts, and your soft, round buttocks. I dream that I’m squeezing them, kissing them, that I’m tending to every part of you, in all the ways you described in your letter. In my fantasies, I’ve come up with lots of new ideas for things I believe you’ll enjoy. After the war, it will be my greatest undertaking and my biggest pleasure to try them with you.
This letter is shorter than the previous ones. Simon’s handwriting is messier, harder to read. It’s clear that he had little time. I wonder what perilous operation he was involved in. In the summer of 1944, the Allied forces had disembarked on the shores of Normandy and were fighting their way inland. Is that where Simon was, giving them a hand?
“He could’ve written that from Normandy,” I say to Theo, valiantly disregarding the actual content of the letter.
“He could… But not necessarily.”
The stove makes a noise, drawing my attention to the fire, which has almost died. I rake the charcoal with the longest log and add in the remaining wood. It should last us another half hour, maybe more. After that we’re on our own.
I return to my chair.
Theo gives me a smile. “Shall we read the next letter?”
I realize two things. One, I’m actually looking at his face the way I look at regular people, that is, without focusing on the red-and-white omelet of scars on his skin. Two, I was able to recognize another facial expression. I know for certain that he’s smiling now.
I crinkle my eyes. “Can you handle it?”
“Let’s find out.”
The next letter is Elise’s reply. It’s also shorter than usual, as if she were mirroring Simon’s note. She doesn’t bother with an introduction, any local news, or their son’s school reports. She just jumps straight to the fun part.
Mon cher Simon,
Laying alone in our marital bed, I often think of the first time we made love after weeks and weeks of stolen kisses. It was a revelation. You were so gentle and patient with me, so understanding of my concerns, so afraid to hurt me or to push me away! It was so sweet! It was so you! You didn’t rush it and allowed me to take my time getting used to your weight, to your intrusion. And then, when my body was moving with yours, I was overwhelmed with the most delicious physical sensations.
Theo stands up abruptly and turns his back to me. “I need to stretch my legs.”
“Please.”
He doesn’t move.
Weird.“Let’s see if the storm is letting up,” I say, springing to my feet.
He angles his body away as I pass him, but not fast enough for me to miss a giant bulge under his belt.
Oh God.Quickly, I look away. He clears his throat. I have no doubt that he noticed me notice his reaction. The best thing to do is to act as if nothing happened. I march to the window, open the interior shutters, and peer out. If anything, the snowstorm has intensified.
Theo plants himself by my side. “Sorry about that,” he says in a raspy voice.
Ha!I see he’s choosing to address the unfortunate incident directly rather than act like nothing happened.
I keep my eyes on the blizzard outside. “No worries.”
“Please rest assured that I mean no disrespect to your great-grandmother.”
I turn and stare at him. His tone was serious, but there’s laughter in his eye and in the corners of his mouth.
My eyes widen. “Was that ironic? Did you just make a joke?”
His lips twitch. The smile is barely noticeable, but it’s there.
I shake my head with incredulity and return to our seats. The fire in the stove is slowly going out, so I move my chair closer. I want to enjoy the warmth and comfort a bit longer before it’s time to put my coat back on.
Theo hesitates.
“If you want to read the next letter with me,” I say, “then I suggest you have a word with your phobia.”
He grabs his chair and sets it next to mine. We’re now a good meter closer to the fire than before. I open Simon’s reply to Elise.
