Foolishly Falling for You

20

Lance

The letter my wife writes takes some time to reach me, which is to be expected as I match further and further from home. It's a dreadful thing, marching and waiting both seeming so devoid of joy.

But I am used to it. When we make camp I am handed a letter that smells of the fragrance that fills my home. I've never known what it was just that it slowly became incorporated with the word home and all the thoughts of it.

Admiral Lance,
Though, in reviewing our relationship I am aware of the vast amounts of embarrassing anecdotes, I thought you more sensible than to remind me. Nevertheless, I carry with me the hope, that this war takes you quickly, as I do not want you to suffer so much as to not come back.

I snort. How callous.

Regarding the day in question, I do not remember it, nor do I wish to sicken my stomach with the thought of it, so I thank you to never bring it up again.

The doctor you have sent is a callous man like you, who's hands are rough and understanding of a woman's body seems lacking. He has, however signed off on this letter though I am unsure what is signing off to.

I beg you release me of the need to converse with you further, be it in person, through letters or dreams. I would like to enjoy my life without your name persisting.

She says as she carries my name. I smile. I'm glad. Did I ever think I would experience a positive emotion fired to the thought of that woman carrying my name?

To reiterate: if you are hoping to me to live, I'm afraid you've put faith in the wrong person, as I wish for your swift departure from our mortal plan.

Sincerely,
Anita

She doesn't sign off with Mendoza. Has she really so throughly cast me aside? I want to question her. I want to be indignant, I know I shouldn't be that I don't deserve it. But isn't it odd? Isn't it queer isn't it strange?

She said she'd never live without me. The wind was in her hair, and the sun sheened off her eyes and she said we would be buried next to one another whether I liked it not.

She said she couldn't take a breath in a world we weren't together, that her whole world would be submerged in the water from her tears if we weren't next to one another.

And maybe I don't deserve an explanation but isn't it odd? Isn't it strange that isn't true anymore? What a fundamental change in the universe must've occurred for something so permanent to go missing.

Love.

She loved me?

I never really thought she loved me. She said it. But she wanted to own me. To possess me. Is that love? To constrict and force? I didn't know those feelings could be called love.

I knew she was obsessed with me. But is obsession love? And can I go on without it?

But now, I have nothing. Not her love, her desire. When she came into a room I was loved? I was being loved?

I must've been. Because everything is cold now. I was angry. Furious. She put a leash around neck, and forced me to follow behind her. My whole life my wife has been a woman who forced her ownership upon me.

That's how I've always seen it. She collared me, and decided every aspect of my life. I'd considered meeting her my greatest misfortune. I often wondered what I did to draw her attention, this cold princess.

I sigh, and glance away. I wonder if, when I return she will tell me. I want to know the exact moment she decided I was hers.

Did I know? Had we spoken? Was it word, a look, a glance? What marked me? It was so long ago, but I had once told her she made rooms bright when she walked in. We were young and it was before she told her father she had to marry me.

She had to be no older than 7 summers then. She was short little thing, and seemed to flicker into rooms. I had seen her a few times, our fathers were colleagues and allies.

It was cute for a while, her little hand seeking mine, those eyes glittering with admiration. I felt strong, and more importantly, I felt seen, something I had never felt.

She saw me, seeking me out, my presence was a gift to her. It was a nuisance to my father. And for a while, I was grateful to her. I held affection for her. Until my father called me into his study to inform me my future was set, and I had her to thank.