Foolishly Falling for You

39

Lance

My eyes scan her letter with a small smile. My poor baby she is such distress. I regret to have made myself her rock just to crumble, but I cannot help but beam in pride at her newfound affection. I lay on my cot in my holding cell, reading over her letter again and again.
Given more time, we could've been happy, I think. Stumbled upon love. I could've put up her swing for us to sit on.

We could've went out to a pub every weekend with Michael and his wife who would be ecstatic that I have finally come around to the joys of being married to a woman. He was right, not that I'd ever admit it. It is a joy.

It is especially a joy to be loved by that woman. I hate how sick her worry must make her, but I love that she worried for me, even making threats in letters that can surely be used against  her. I'll have to warn her against that. I am smiling like a man not bound for death. I know my love will return me to her.

I close my eyes. We got married so young. Merely 18. She shone so brightly that day, in her wedding dress, roses in her hands as she grinned at me. She was so bright I could not bear to look at her, I was blinded. I should've known then, the way my heart fluttered, that I would end up loving her but I always was a stubborn son of a bitch.

We were destined for one another after all, I believe that. Our souls are intertwined no—our souls are halves of a whole and I know I will return and reside in her after my body is dispatched with. Will she get on without me there? I'm sure she will. She may be sad for a while but eventually she will venture into the sun, and continue. She is resilient, crafty—strong. She has endured more than most and still she stands, though shaky.

My beautiful Anita,
Do not worry about my fate, for it has always been you. When they hang me, I will return to your side to continue protecting you. You mustn't worry for me. The guards do not harass me, I mostly just await my trial in silence, consumed by you. You must be well, Anita it is only thing that brings me joy. My beautiful wife, are you taking care of yourself?

I have no regrets on my choice. You are free my love. Of your father and of me. You can go anywhere you can do anything, you can become anyone. Do not concern yourself on being Mrs. Lance Mendoza, the admirals wife. Instead, begun having your fill of being Anita Mendoza, the admirals widow. You will be taken care of, with no one to hinder your shine.

I remember your hands. The way the moon shone, the way we breathed the same breath and shared the same bed. I play it in my mind, over and over. The memory of night keeps me warm no matter how cool the night gets in this cell. Do you think of it love?

I put my arms behind my head, staring at the ceiling, imagining my wife. I wish I could touch her again. Smell her. Taste her. So sweet, and soft. It's a shame I'll go to the gallows aroused that has to be disturbing. Perhaps my erection will die when the noose tightens around my neck, it seems like something that could thoroughly kill arousal. My trial date isn't set, and I suspect it will take a while.

They denied me bail of course, deeming me a flight risk. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and my heart, and my dick have an ache for her. How I want to sleep next to her again, sharing the same blanket, the same breath, the same dream. What I wouldn't give to have breakfast with her again. For her to tell me to use my cane.

And her knowing smile, radiating warmth into my skin. I cannot help but smile. I love her. And she, me. If nothing else, I have that. Her love. I've wanted to have her love again for so long. Finally...she returns my feelings.

I finish my letter.

I love you. I will always love you, and nothing, not even death can come between us. Carry my love with you and live well. It is all that I hope for. In doing so, you will carry me and my dreams with you. There is nothing I should wish for more than your happiness. In the first few letters we wrote to one another, you said you worried you may believe my love but that it little more than a mere story you'd read before. That it wasn't real.
It was real. We were real.
We were long but brief, passionate yet calm, and we were real, Anita.

All my love,
Admiral Lance Mendoza