Foolishly Falling for You

19

Anita

The messager comes with a letter and I'm tempted not to read it. My stomach swirls. Anticipation? Fear? But I have no doubt he'll make good on his promise to return so I open it.

Anita,

We head toward battle, and perhaps fear should be in my heart. But I am thinking of our 16th summer. I had been enrolled in military school despite my feelings and many protests—to become an eligible match for you.

I roll my eyes. He means to blame me for our union. I know it is my fault I wish he wouldn't harp on it. If I had known...well. I continue reading.

You'd come to see me, in the garden behind my father's house. You'd tracked me down in nothing but muslin because I hadn't called upon you in a week. Your chest was heaving, your eyes swollen with tears. You said you had caught sight of me through the fence, and had to see if I had fallen ill.

I don't remember what I said, but I do remember the way your face fell after I'd said it. I remember the pang of regret, and how angry I felt, to be regretful of you, when you'd ruined my life.

I frown, the letter crinkling in my hand.

Then you said to me...just a wisp of a girl you were then, barely 16 summers—you can do what you want to. I will be here.

What a foolish thing to say. Why does he even remember that?

The men are filled with vigor, but they always are at first. In the beginning of a war, one is always optimistic they may win it, that god is on their side. I am unsure. Everyone thinks god is on their side, and so... who can be sure?

But you, my wife, my Anita, you are a force of nature. From childhood on you have seen what you wanted and resolved to make it yours. You have always been successful in that regard.

So I will hope to you. Bring this troop home safely. I am sending my salary back to you to manage. The men here spend their salaries in brothels and pubs, enjoying the company of foreign women.

I have enjoyed the company of the most foreign woman to exist, I think, and that's you, so I fear no one else will be able to dazzle me, as much a young girl in muslin cloth, telling me if I did not come to see her, she would have to ensure affairs were moved in order so I could.

I say all this to say, all is as well as can be here. I expect a prompt response, and a sign off from the doctor I've left with you.

My heart hesitantly beats,
Admiral Lance Mendoza

"Madam?"

I glance up at my maid and smile. Things are going well. I've been taking care of household finances since we were married. At this point, I doubt he knows how much he's getting paid and where it's going. He doesn't mind, as long as when he needs to use it, there is money in his pocket.

Lance does not concern himself with many things. As long as everything stays the same. He walks the earth like a ghost. As if he has no real purpose. No real joy. No real emotions at all.

Just like his father.

Other than me, I can't think of one person who loves Lance. Maybe his friend Michael.

He's always been an awkward, callous man. Perhaps it's just his environment. It doesn't matter now. I'll finally give him what he wants.

I'll ask him for the divorce he's craved since before we married. But before that, I'll get everything in order. I've been setting aside some funds. Something I'd have access to no matter what.

I'll be free. The first thing I think I'll do is buy a little house on a lake, and never have another fucking tea party again. In fact, I think, I'll just stay in my little house. I've grown tired of polite society.

The closest I'll get to outside is a little swing on my porch my toes brushing the petals of flowers, the sun shining. I smile at the thought of it.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the cool white wall of my bedroom, everything tucked in its place except me. I am I'll placed and out of sync, discordant and chaotic, painting an otherwise perfect sight skewed.

I lift my shaking hand, and press it against my stomach. I close my eyes, and imagine a summer day, in my new house, by the water.