In my dream memories as a child with my family played as a big movie screen before me. It was my mother, father, Eric and I, and we climbed up a steep hill behind our home. Snow covered the ground but the sky was clear. My father grabbed lids from the trashcans and allowed Eric and I to slide down the hill. When we were at the bottom, Eric and I would stumble up the hill again and try to race each other back to the bottom.
I laughed. It was a pleasant memory to replay, even in my dream.
Then I heard another voice chuckling behind me. I knew whose laugh it was before even turning around. I shut my eyes and allowed the sound to trickle through my ears. It was peaceful and beautiful.
But when I turned around, no one was there. You were no longer there. I instantly felt alone. Not just at that one moment, but alone in this world.
Then I woke up.
I dreamt of my family and you last night. Although I felt alone in my dream I woke up knowing that I still have you, Jacob.
I pray that you’re safe. I miss you dearly.
Write to me soon.
Love,
Noelle
April 8th, 1940
Dear Jacob,
I’m worried. I haven’t heard from you in months. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Will you even receive this letter? I know I am asking questions that cannot possibly be answered with any prompt measure of time, but the constant worry for you is overwhelming. I sometimes feel like I cannot breathe and am suffocating as I await any news regarding you and your safety.
My dream continues to reoccur every so often. I smile at the laugh I can still hear although when I turn around you are not there. My greatest fear now is that with each month that passes and I do not hear from you, the laughter in my dream will fade away. It is becoming harder and harder to remember the sound as distinctly as it once did. Oh Jacob, I hope that my dreams are in no way a sign of something I have yet to discover in regards to you, wherever you may be.
I yearn for you, my love. Right now, I pray that you are safe and in good company. I always pray for these things.
Sally has stopped by a few times to check on me and to see if I’ve heard anything at all. But alas, the disappointment she sees in my face tells her everything she needs to know. I in no way intend to make you feel guilty, my love. I am sure you have much more to deal with than I could ever fathom surrounding you. I want to know what you’re facing, but then again, I shudder to think of what reality must be like for you right now.
I know that I am rambling on, but know that writing to you brings me solace. I feel you should have something to smile about. In the times that Sally has stopped by, she has been teaching me how to sew. She has become such a good and loyal friend to me, Jacob. I really cannot wait for you to meet her. In my spare moments, I have been working on something very special for you. Thinking about what I am making brings a smile to my face. I only hope you love it as much as I do. I will keep to myself what it is. Knowing that you are probably guessing at this very moment, gives me hope; to see you again, to hear your laugh, to witness your smile. Please be safe and know that I love you dearly.
All my love,
Noelle
May 10th, 1940
Jacob,
I don’t know what else to do. I’m always by the mailbox, searching for a response from you. Each day is like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. I try to distract my mind from the negativity, but it’s difficult at times.
Your mother fears something has happened to you. I try to console her and tell her that you’re safe and just in the battlefield fighting for our country. As much as I keep repeating to others that you are in fact safe, there’s slight doubt in the back of my mind and maybe she is right. Then I picture you in pain, lying somewhere in a ditch, alone and scared.
But then I shake it off and keep going about my day. You were meant for me. I know you were, Jacob. And I can’t accept the fact that there is the slightest chance that you may not be a part of my future.
I finished that gift I was making for you. I can’t wait to see you again, so that I can see your face light up when you open it. I dream of giving it to you on my graduation day. It will be next month. I invited your mother and father. They’re the only family I have. Sally is not allowed to join the Ceremony, but she’ll be back at my place for cake and coffee to celebrate afterwards.
I wish you could be there to watch me receive my diploma. It was something that I didn’t expect to receive, especially after my parent’s death. I wish they were here to witness it as well. Don’t misunderstand me, your parents have been beyond supportive of me. They are more than what I could wish for. The thought of having my mother there smiling as I’m handed my diploma, and my father clapping at how proud he is would have meant so much to me. Eric would probably make fun of how large my cap and gown are. I miss them. I do.
It’s the little things in life that make each day worth living. I have hope. I have dreams. And I know I have a future with you.
Soon.
Love,
Noelle
~~~~
Every day that went by was a constant reminder; a reminder that not a word had been heard from Jacob. Noelle’s heart was torn. Some had made suggestions that Jacob may have been killed on the battlefield. Noelle refused to believe it. She still felt his presence nearby. Even when her heart ached as she opened her mailbox to find it empty. Even after the countless letters she continued to send him, all unanswered. She still had hope. Through it all she knew Jacob would find her again.
She continued to send him one letter each month since the last she’d heard from him, hoping she would receive one in return. And in each letter she poured out her heart and soul. She wrote about how much she loved him and missed him. She reminisced about their time when they were together and her time while they were apart.
Throughout the wait Noelle studied furiously as a way to distract her haunted thoughts. Before she knew it, graduation was approaching. This was supposed to be a joyous event for her, and even though Jacobs’s parents were going to show their support, there was something missing. Not having Jacob or her family to witness such an immense accomplishment, made her sad. Empty. Unaccomplished.
Yes, she worked harder than most women in her class to have a perfect score. Yes, she would be graduating as one of the top three in her class. And yes, she did it all on her own. But it all didn’t matter anymore to Noelle. If she didn’t have the ones she loved close by to celebrate with her, then why celebrate?
Noelle still clung to the possibility of a happily ever after ending. Why was it told for so many years throughout stories, yet in real life it seemed to be in the distance? Only heard of from afar. She wanted that more than anything. She wanted that happy ever after with Jacob.
Breathing in the warm June air, Noelle stepped out of the University building and began her walk home. She smiled at the familiar faces that passed by. She took in the beauty and warmness that the city brought to her. It was another day forward. Another day of hope. She knew she could get past it, because she was strong enough.
There were times when she thought that she couldn’t, but then she was reminded of the few people that surrounded her, who showed her love and support. Although not related to her by blood, she indeed had family. Sara, Jacob’s parents and Jacob were who she had left in life. And for that she was grateful.
As she approached her door the sound of boots along the pavement behind her forced her to turn around. “I’m sorry madam. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Noelle smiled at how foolish she must have looked with her hand spread along her chest and her slight gasp as she faced the gentlemen. “Oh, it’s quite alright. How can I help you, sir?”
“Are you Ms. Noelle Stephens?” The man asked with a serious expression etched along his features.
Alarmed a bit, Noelle stepped forward and narrowed her eyes in confusion, “Yes. Yes I’m Ms. Stephens.”
The gentlemen nodded. Revealing his arms from behind him and handed over a
n envelope. “You have a telegram, mam. Have a good day.”
Noelle held the thin piece of paper in her hand. This was it. This was the truth. She turned around, her entire body rattling with fear, and managed a few steps toward her front door. But she couldn’t open it. Her eyes remained fixated on her hand that held the envelope. Such a small item that would determine her fate.
Oh God, she thought as she brought it closer. In cursive her name was written in black ink. Her fingers traced the letters. She was stalling for time. Was she ready to face the truth after all this time? Could she possibly be able to live without another word from him?
The letters blended together and turned blurry from the tears that swelled her eyes. Knowing that she couldn’t stand there any longer she flipped the envelope around and slowly tore it open.
She took a few deep breaths to give her some strength, and then removed the letter from its envelope. She blinked a few times allowing the tears to freely run down her soft pale cheeks. Her heart stopped when she saw the familiar handwriting:
My dearest Noelle,
Open the door my love. “Soon” has finally arrived.
Love always and forever,
Jacob
Shock. Pure shock ran through every fiber of her being. Could it truly be? Was Jacob finally home after all these years of yearning for each other? Was their soon finally now?
Without another thought Noelle swung open her door, and before another word could be spoken, Jacob gripped her into the tightest embrace. Their lips collided. There it was: the magical kiss; the flutters in her stomach; the pure undoubting love. It came tumbling down into that one sweet, endearing kiss.
Sniffing back tears, Noelle broke from the kiss, leaning back to get a good look at him. “Are you really here or am I dreaming?” Oh she prayed it was reality.
“No, my love. This isn’t a dream. I’m truly here.” Jacob swiped his thumbs across her moist cheeks, wiping away her warm tears.
“B-but, I, you, I don’t even…”
Jacob lift a finger to her lips, “I was injured in the battlefield. It took months of recovery. I didn’t know where I was or who I was for that matter.”
Noelle kneaded her brows in confusion. She slightly pulled away to see that Jacob had a cane and when he stepped back he had a limp. “Oh, Jacob. I thought I lost you.” Her arms snaked around his neck.
Pulling her in, Jacob leaned in and inhaled her scent. “I thought I lost you too. But I’m here now. I love you, Noelle.”
“I love you more than anything in this world, Jacob.”
Jacob pressed his lips against Noelle’s again and whispered, “Always and forever, my love.”
THE END
About the Author
E.L. Montes
USA Today Bestselling Author E.L. Montes lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with her husband, Alex, and their English Bulldog named Butters! She has a Bachelor of Science in Legal Studies. Ms. Montes works full-time as a paralegal for a mid-size law firm. She had always loved the legal field and found it to be very interesting. She more-so “secretly” loved to write. Disastrous was her debut novel which was released October 2012.
The Squall
By
Alexa Nazzaro
© Copyright 2013 Alexa Nazzaro ~ All rights reserved
On a Friday afternoon in July, a couple of kids decided to entertain Lillith and her twenty-two colleagues, by copulating on a roof facing the office of Avista Party Planners. This was the kind of liberating event expected to happen to people who wore bright scarves and ate raw foods—not to those who, although they organized fun for a living, did so in cubicles the colour of a laboratory, and whose biggest visual stimulant up until then was the Miss Sixty sign across the street. Having a couple of 16 year-olds practically hanging over the “y” in various states of hurried desire was therefore definitely cause to abandon one’s post and crowd at a window much as people do on Much Music or the Today Show. Except for Lillith.
“Oh my God,” said Susannah, who worked right beside Lillith. “You have to see this.”
Susannah’s cheeks were flushed and her big green glasses sat crookedly on her nose. The glasses were new, and would have made anyone else on the planet look like a shut-in who got fed oatmeal by their aging parents as they stared blankly at The Price Is Right. But Susannah could have been Lady Gaga’s best friend, which is what made Lillith wonder why Susannah was friendly to her. The only thing they had in common was the “h” in their names, and even that seemed to suit Susannah more. The name Lillith, on the other hand, conjured up images of lavender and Royal Albert teacups.
Susannah pointed to the row of windows along the wall. “You have got to check this out.”
“I have some stuff to do,” Lillith mumbled, staring at her computer.
“Not as interesting as this.”
Susannah grabbed her hand, and for a second Lillith thought it was 2006 again, when she and Susannah had gone to a bar after work to celebrate Susannah’s first day at the company. Susannah’s idea, both the celebration and the bar. Lillith could still remember the noise and Susannah’s grip on her hand as she urged Lillith to dance. In the few hours that they had known each other, Lillith hadn’t had an opportunity to tell Susannah that she didn’t dance—not even to Kylie Minogue; not even at boring relatives’ weddings which presented to Lillith one of two opportunities to be rather cool, the other being her occasional stints as babysitter to the five year-old daughter of her neighour Gillian in apartment 11.
She had managed to stay put on her stool while Susannah got up and danced on the spot. But this time, Susannah had Lillith out of her chair and approaching the window. A crowd had already gathered, fortuitously blocking any possible view. Lillith turned to Susannah and tried to look as disappointed as humanly possible, while Susannah, as though sensing Lillith’s waning will to embrace the voyeuristic opportunity that stood before them, finally let go of Lillith’s hand.
As she pushed through the crowd, getting enveloped between Joe and Chantal from accounting, Lillith consoled herself by staying put and catching the occasional glance on tip toe. She didn’t stare straight ahead, but at the graveled roof, the little pipes and other things that made up its anatomy that Lillith didn’t understand. She finally braved a glance at the black T-shirt and hiked up red skirt that was the girl. Lillith’s eyes met hers, but only because the girl’s were closed, just like they were in the movies and on television. Lillith’s knees began to shake, and her gaze moved over to him. There wasn’t much to see except a tattoo on his chest the size of one of those anonymous African countries one never learns the name of. Lillith was intrigued by this and, deprived of a proper view from which to see its colours, imagined them instead: green, blue and red all bleeding into one another.
“Hey Lillith,” Joe suddenly called out. “Pretty uplifting, eh?”
Lillith smiled to show that she had read just enough Danielle Steel and Cosmopolitan to understand the sexual innuendo, and then turned away and walked back to her desk. Her legs felt wobbly, like they did when she had to contribute something to the weekly sales meeting, or when she had to go out for her ceremonial birthday lunch with colleagues, and she had to be witty.
She reached her desk and looked around. Everything was in its place: the garbage and recycling bins to the left of the chair; the basket filled with dried orange peel on the shelf above her, since, while she liked the concept of decorative orange peel, the actual smell bothered her; the calendar she got from her mother for Christmas, pinned to the corkboard with a red tack, bringing out the colour in this month’s Sailboats by Monet; and the yellow stress ball sitting beside her keyboard. She hadn’t forgotten the plastic bag standing against the wall by her chair at that perfect forty-five degree angle, but had struggled to find the right time to open it. She glanced over her shoulder. People were still at the window, she noticed. Perhaps now.
She began running her hands down her pants, a habit that always made her mother shake her
head with disappointment, as though hand-rubbing was exactly the kind of thing that drastically diminished one’s chances of capturing life’s offerings—love, children, a home with a backyard deck.
Lillith took a deep breath and pulled the poster out of the bag. She had already found the perfect spot; to her left, beside the shelf containing the event planning dictionary, which she had never actually read, knowing perfectly well the definitions of venue or food and beverage guarantees. She unrolled the poster and moved quickly. She had rehearsed this in her mind on the train ride in this morning, down to how big the tape pieces would have to be. Her uncertainty had wavered between one inch and two, finally deciding to tape the poster with four, equal one-inch pieces. Lillith walked back a few steps to catch a look. Not bad, but her time was suddenly being cut by the voices getting closer. The show was over. Her heart quickened, she ran her hands down her pants a little harder before looking at the painting again, now completely unsure.
She heard Susannah’s laugh and threw herself into the ergonomic chair that employers furnish with pride and fastened her eyes to the screen.
Susannah draped herself over Lillith’s cubicle, her chin in her hand. “Where did you go?”
Lillith glanced at Susannah. She didn’t know how to answer, but this seemed to matter very little all of a sudden, as Susannah’s eyes widened. Lillith got nervous. She had a very good idea of what had captured her colleague’s attention, but what was wrong with it? Was it crooked? This wouldn’t have surprised Lillith, as she hadn’t used a ruler of any kind. Had she somehow missed a price tag that was still stuck in a corner somewhere, undermining Munch’s magic, reveling in being overlooked?
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