Page 25 of Returned Mail

Tired of missing him. Of waiting. Of being brave. Tired of pretending military life is romantic. Tired of acting like love is enough to make this easy. It isn't.

“I don't know how much longer I can do this.”

The words hang in the room; they are terrifying, but honest. It’s not because I don't love George. Because I do. But love and exhaustion can exist together. Love and resentment. Love and loneliness. Love and grief.

Nobody tells you that.

My phone chimes again, a promotional email this time. For half a second, my heart jumps anyway. Then I turn it face down.

I open my laptop and start a new email. Even though I don't know when he'll read it. Even though I don't know when he'll answer. Even though part of me doesn't want to answer at all.

I type anyway.

To: George

Subject: Re: Letters

I'm angry.

Not only at the extension. At all of it.

I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of everyone telling me how strong I am when I don't want to be strong anymore.

And I need to tell you something I hate admitting.

Sometimes I'm angry at you too.

I know that isn't fair.

I know you didn't choose the extension.

But you're there, and I'm here, and some days I don't know where else to put it.

I love you.

I'm still here.

Today, I'm still choosing this.

I don't know what tomorrow looks like.

I need you to understand that.

Monica

I hit send before I can second-guess it. Before I can soften it. Before I can pretend I'm fine. The message disappears from the screen. For a long time, I sit there waiting for relief. It doesn't come.

My phone is still facedown beside me.

I don't pick it up for the rest of the night.

Chapter Seven

George

a few weeks later

The ninth unanswered letter is the one that finally scares me.