Dear Soldier Boy

by Maxwell Tibor

  Shit, it doesn’t matter why you did it. It’s done. I’m going crazy here. You’re too far, and I feel you slipping away.

  But I don’t give up, Civilian Girl. I won’t give up on us until you tell me to. The choice is yours. But I don’t share. You need to know that. If you’re mine, you’re all mine. Every part of you. Your letters, your kisses, your body. Mine. I won’t share you.

  If we are going to keep going, you have to cut Mark out of your life completely. I mean it. I can move on from this, it can be just another misstep on our journey to find each other, but only if it is over with him forever.

  Sex is sex. I’ve said it before, and I would be a complete asshole to have a different standard for you.

  We both have a past. Mine upset you, and I get it now. God, I get it. But there is no retroactive do-over for sex or shitty choices.

  It is in the past now. It is your future I want, Civilian Girl, if that is what you want. Talk to me, Vivian. I need to know where we stand. Is it over with Mark?

  -Matthew

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Vivian.castello@gmail.com Sent 6/10/16

  Matthew.Jensen7267@us.army..mil

  Dear Matthew,

  What are you talking about? Yes, Mark is my partner. I didn’t want to mention it before, because I didn’t want you to know where I worked and what my job entails. I reached out to Mark to see if he knew what you are so upset about, but he told me that soldiers can go off the “deep end,” and maybe you were having some sort of moment or something. I don’t know. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Before, I know you mentioned going to visit a shrink. Have you been recently? I don’t understand why you are so upset? And why do you need to know Tommy’s name?

  It’s Thomas Wagner, by the way. His rank was E3, he was in the 1st Cav Division. He never went to college, no matter how hard I tried to get him to go. He said he was done with school after high school. But Tommy was too smart not to go to school, that’s what I always told him. We always got along.

  We were closer than I am with anyone in my family. But, before he left, we had a big argument. I told him he was making a huge mistake by joining the Army and not going to college, and he told me I was making a big mistake by wasting time with Paul. We were both right. Why did we both have to be right? I mean, I don’t care that he was right about Paul. I should have cut it off right then with Paul. Tommy always knew which guys were good and which weren’t. And he was right about Paul. Not that Paul wasn’t a good guy, but he just knew he wasn’t the right guy for me. Somehow, he could see it before I did. Tommy was always like that, one step ahead of me. If there was a puddle in the way, he was there before I crossed it. He would whisk me onto the sidewalk. Tommy was like my guardian angel, but in real life. Not a fantasy. He was always looking out for me. And even with Paul, he was just looking out for me. I know Tommy only ever wanted me to be happy, and he probably figured out that Paul was not the guy for making that happen.

  Unfortunately, I was right about Tommy too. The Army wasn’t right for Tommy. I knew he would be injured when he went over, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He just wouldn’t. I wanted so badly to finally be the one in our relationship to look out for him, and I wasn't. I failed. That’s why my step-father blames me. I failed Tommy. He should never have gone in the military. He should be at school right now. I should be going to his college graduation, but instead, our family got together for his funeral. It was horrible. And I’m to blame.

  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone on like that. I haven’t shared how I feel about Tommy with anyone, and you asked and brought up all these emotions. I miss him so much. I wish I was able to write him. That’s what I meant in the first letter I sent. I never wrote to Tommy. Not once. I was so mad he wouldn’t listen to me that I never wrote to him. How awful is that? Here he was, over there dealing with the stuff that you see on a daily basis, and I was too consumed with anger and pride to reach out to him. I hate myself for that. I could have written. I should have written. And then, right before he died, right before, I actually had begun a letter to him. But it doesn’t matter. He’s gone and I’m a horrible person. So, there you have it. I’m sorry I shared that with you, but it’s probably best you know everything about me. Especially given your email.

  What do you mean you know everything about Mark? Like, his memoir long emails or something? I don’t understand what you mean. Yes, some of his emails were a little too sexual, but I never responded back to those. I only ever responded to emails which seemed meant for Duke to listen to than for me. I didn’t even feel right reading his sexual emails. He talked at great length about how great he is at massaging feet and things like that. I don’t even know what that was about, so I just skimmed over it, and would see if there was any information that Duke might find interesting for me to share. I seriously doubt that Duke cares about what happens in Mark’s bedroom.

  The only things that Mark has told me about you was what I asked you before. You said you haven’t been with any Afghani women, so I don’t know what you mean by atonement. I believed you when you said it was only me. That’s still the case right?

  Because sex is not sex to me. I don’t have random sex with people, and I wouldn’t be okay if you did either. You want to know how many people I’ve been with, Matthew, is that what this is about? Because, sit down, it’s not many. In fact, it’s a little embarrassing, but it seems like that’s what you want to know, so I’ll tell you. I’ve been with one guy. One. And that was Paul. So, there you have it. I’m inexperienced in the bedroom. Is that a huge turnoff? Are you bothered that my partners are limited, or that even though I joke with you about what I want to do, that maybe I’ve never experienced it before? Is that the problem? Is that why you are upset?

  And what do you mean, is it over with Mark? I haven’t quit emailing him. I don’t email him as often as he does to me because, like I said, I wanted to keep things on an appropriate level. Which, to be honest, Mark does not. But I’m watching Duke for him, and I do love watching Duke. I wish he was mine. He is such a great dog and companion.

  I come home after a horribly long work day, and I know my work days are nothing in comparison to yours, but sometimes they really suck. Anyway, there's Duke, waiting for me at the door, wagging his tail, ready to have a big, long belly rub. And I give it to him. We sit together and watch C-SPAN. I think he’s addicted as me.

  Anyway, Matthew, I’m really worried about this email. I’m not sure what to think. I hadn’t written back before because my computer crashed at home. I hadn’t had a chance to get another one until yesterday, and then I read this email.

  Excluding this situation, which I really don’t understand, what has gotten you so upset? I really hope Mark isn’t right, but, even if you are having some sort of PTSD or something, I’m still here for you. I know soldiers often have a difficult time coming back, and I’m ready for it. I’ve been reading books about it and prepping myself. I don’t care if you have off moments. I’ll just be happy to share moments IRL with you. We’re so close to November, I can almost taste it. I can’t wait to see you and touch you.

  I’m so excited for Steven, and Luke, and their baby girl. That is the most wonderful news. I can see us now, visiting them and San Francisco, but I agree, we will have to wait until the spring. Have you ever lived in DC? It gets pretty cold in the winter, but I think we are going to make a good time of saving on the heating bills in my house. I can’t wait for you to see it. And be here with me.

  Thank you for the birthday gift. I’m not going to send a photo of it yet. I need to know what you are upset about first. Please tell me, and don’t worry if it was just a moment or something, its okay. I love you anyway, and will be here for you and your moments.

  With Love ,Your Civilian Girl,

  Vivian

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  From: Matthew.Jensen7267@us.army.mil

  Sent: 6/18/16 22:02

  To: Vivian.Castello@gmail.com

  Dear Civilian
Girl,

  As you can see, I have forwarded Mark’s email.

  Can you see, now, what I’m talking about with him? I had to read all that about you, and it killed me. That was very kind of him to council you on my current mental state. So fucking professional of him to imply that I have had a psychotic break. I’m fit for combat, but I’m delusional. Is he a psychiatrist as well as a desk jockey? Christ, that man is busy, and yet he still has time to write to my woman every day. It is time for him to find his own.

  To answer your question, I’m not having a moment, because that would imply that it was some ephemeral thing that drifts in and passes as quickly as it came.

  What I have lasted too long for that, and it scares me, because sometimes, I think it is not going to pass. Maybe this is me. Maybe everything that has happened has turned me into this person I don’t recognize, and I don’t like this person, this new me.

  Timing is everything. I think about that a lot now, how even seconds can alter the course of your life in unalterable ways. If this had happened last year, any of this, us, Mark’s letter, my reaction would have been different because I was different. I was stronger then. Better. I wish you knew the man I was, not this version.

  That man would have laughed at Mark’s letter and seen it for the sick fantasy it was. The woman he was describing wasn’t you. I know that. I was so busy being angry, and hurt, and guilty, I missed it. Mark doesn’t know you. Despite his full-scale attack on your personal life, he doesn’t really know you. He knows the flirty Vivian, the fun Vivian, the Vivian that says outrageous things and leaves me open-mouthed at some of the stuff she comes out with.

  But there is so much more to you. There is the soft, insecure side that apologizes, and regrets, and is saddled with enough guilt to break her. I know that side; even from 7,000 miles, I have seen more of you than Mark. He can’t take that away from us.

  So, let Mark give you dogs, and compliments, and whatever the hell he can think up next, because I am going to give you a home, and babies, and a future. He can’t take that away from us unless you let him.

  And you won’t, Civilian Girl. I see that now. Nothing he does or says can change what I feel. I don’t think you had sex with him. It’s not you, not the Vivian I know. But here is the thing, even if you had slept with him in a moment of weakness, or loneliness, or horniness, or insanity, or whatever, we would be OK. I would care, of course, because I care about everything when it comes to you, but it would not change what I feel. I will keep loving you, and missing you, and wanting you, forever.

  I’m sorry. I did something I asked you not to do. I told you to stop listening to Mark, but that's exactly what I did. I let his bullshit fantasy mess with my head. In my defense, it doesn’t take a lot to mess with my head anymore.

  I used to be strong. I had mental fortitude—that is what I told myself, anyway. But now, I wonder if I just hadn't been tested enough to know how weak I actually am. Was it all an illusion?

  I really hope not, but the longer I am here—not in Afghanistan, but here in this headspace—the more I think I was just really good at lying to myself.

  I'm working on being the man I thought I was. I want to be that man for you. He was strong. He was what you deserve. I will be that man again, or maybe I will be that man for the first time, but I will get there. I don’t know how long it will take, but I will get there.

  But in the meantime, I need you to be strong for both of us. Will you do that for me, Civilian Girl? When I’m stupid, and insecure, and irrational with fear, will you be the strong one?

  I know it's a big task. I wish I had something to offer in return, but all I have is me—a broken man. I admit, it is a pretty crappy deal for you, but I will spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough for you. That is all I have to offer, Vivian. Please say you will take it.

  There is no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else since I met you. I’m not sleeping with anyone, but I don’t mind you asking if you need that reassurance. I will happily end every letter with a promise of chastity. No, strike that, I will promise abstinence, because sometimes, I have moments when you’re with me, and I imagine you touching me, loving me, and there is nothing chaste about those. I need a new bottle of lotion, while we are on the subject.

  When I get home, there are things we need to talk about. I can’t do it in an email. I'm scared about telling you, because I’m scared that with every secret I tell you, I have given you another opportunity to realize you can do a hell of a lot better. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m not good with uncertainty. I like black and white and regiment. I can’t even blame it on the military, that is just me.

  You will discover that about me soon enough. There are lots of things left for us to discover about each other. For starters, I hate mess. You asked me, once, if I was messy but I didn’t answer. No, I’m not messy. I am fastidiously tidy, to the point of neurosis. I will, without a doubt, follow behind you, straightening papers, and making sure all the spices in the cupboard are in alphabetical order and face the right direction. I will drive you crazy with it. I drive everyone crazy with it.

  Second, I can’t watch a movie if I miss the start. Even if it is just the opening title, I will have to change the channel or walk out of the movie theater.

  Third, I always pre-eat before I go out for a meal so I don’t look like a complete glutton when I’m at a restaurant. Don’t be offended if I make a sandwich before I sit down for a dinner you made; it's no reflection on your cooking ability or lack thereof. Can you cook? I can make one dish, chicken stuffed with cheese and wrapped in Parma ham, so I hope you can cook, or we will be eating that every night. Please tell me you’re not a vegetarian. If you are, I will learn to make tofu. It is still quasi-vegetarian if I stuff it with cheese and wrap in it ham, right?

  There are so many things I want to do with you. I am keeping a list. And only the top 97 involve sex, so relax, woman, it’s not just your body I’m after.

  I want to go running with you. You can run a marathon. You don’t know it yet, but you can. If you can do a 5K, you can do a marathon. We will start training when I get home. Trust me, you will love it…once it is finished. Like a lot of things in life, the memory of a marathon beats the hell out of the reality. Now I am putting you off. Don’t be. We will build up to it, take it nice and slow until we find your rhythm. Shit, I’m talking about the sex again.

  I better go now. My body is responding to the thought of sex with you in non-chaste ways.

  Say hello to Duke for me. I’m glad you have someone to keep you company until I get back.

  Love,

  Your Soldier Boy

  P.S. I almost forgot to add: I have not had sex with anyone since we started talking. The dry spell continues. So, brace yourself, we have a lot of time to make up for. And I apologize in advance if the first time is um…quick. It has been a very long time. I’ll make sure the second time is all about you. And send me the picture of you in the lingerie already, woman. Consider it my birthday gift, because you missed it. February 3. And I am 31, by the way.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Vivian.castello@gmail.com Sent 6/25/16

  Matthew.Jensen7267@us.army..mil

  Dear Matthew,

  It’s taken me a week to write you back. I’m sorry for the delay. I had to wrap my head around this…everything. I could barely get through the email Mark wrote you. It was so gross. I’m thoroughly disgusted. I can’t believe he would do that. I do. I do now. But it was so creepy and mean.

  I wrote him back yesterday. I told him I had read his email. At first, he denied it, but then he finally admitted to it and about Duke. Duke has never even been in Mark’s house. Can you believe that? Apparently, Mark bought him from a trainer and brought him directly to my house the day he left. I feel like such a fool.

  I’m not a complete idiot. I did know that Mark was interested, and yes, it was nice to have someone to go to lunch with, but that would be the same for any of my co-workers.
But I really had no idea that he had taken his level of interest in me to this point. It’s so sick.

  I can’t even imagine what it was like for you to read his email. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to ever think about the idea of you with anyone else. I mentioned before that it would break me, and it would.

  I appreciate that you can get through the idea of me being with someone else. But I couldn’t do the same for you. I just couldn’t. It would be too much for me.

  On to Duke. My poor Duke. As much as it killed me, I told Mark to give me the name of someone he knew that I could bring Duke to. I didn’t want to give Duke up, but I didn’t want to keep him given his reason for existing. Mark said there was no one else who would want him, and that I could drop him off at the shelter, because he definitely wouldn’t want him. He said that Duke was only a means to get to me, and if that wasn’t going to happen, (which I assured him was not), then he didn’t care if Duke lived or died.

  I couldn’t bring Duke to the shelter. I love Duke. But as much as it would hurt, I don’t want to keep him if it bothers you. I’ll find Duke a good home if you don’t want him here. Mark has sent me Duke’s papers; they are even registered in my name. Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do it. If the situation was reversed, I’m not sure if I would be okay with you keeping Duke. So I’m going to let you make the decision, Soldier Boy.