Margret and I were nearly inseparable that spring and summer. We spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together and brought in the New Year holding hands. The trials and tribulations of an awkward young person in High School faded and were over run with the sweetness of her hearted exclamations in notes passed during class. The anticipation of walking home together made the day bearable.
We were in love. Strong and determined, the adults would dismiss our flowery professions as 'puppy love'. The more roughened the grown up the more contemptuous the dismissal. Some would even say we didn't know the first thing about love. But I tell you we did. The word and emotion evolves and changes with age, nonetheless we did love each other. We loved each other with all the passion and innocence of youth. Maybe, our love was of the purest sorts.
I never hounded her for more than she was willing to give. The sweet, close-mouthed, pecks on the lips or the cheek, holding hands and walking down the street were fine, they were just right and just enough. Though, we did get older, memories are static, frozen like a picture but the present keeps moving and so did we.
When we brought in our third New Year together our bodies were in full swing and the chemicals in our brains were working an exhausting amount of overtime. I will never forget the way our eyes met, that was the best part, some may scoff at that - don't listen to them. The act itself was bitter sweet - I won't say it wasn't beautiful - it was terrifying and nerve wracking at the same time. The best part was the way she looked at me. Our love for each other was a tangible thing that night. It had substance, it passed between us, not under the sheets young man, between her eyes and mine. The same as it did that long ago day outside Sherry's Soda Fountain.
For those few minutes the world was ours. Happiness without end, forever and ever. Happiness does end, maybe at the same place that secrets start. I don't talk about this, it's painful, see. I've never told anyone about this, I suppose the time has come that I did.
Not long after that New Years, Margret's parents sent her away. The secret shared between Margret and I became apparent to her mother and father. They called down to my mother and father. Then they came over - without Margret. I was told to sit away from the table with my chair against the wall. Watch and don't make a sound, my father said. And I did, they talked and said horrible things about me, I kept silent. Then the talk turned to the things nightmares are made of.
Margret's father said she would be leaving the state to stay with her Uncle, forever. The word echoed in my head and my heart stopped cold. My paralysis broke, I stood up and shouted, YOU CAN'T DO TH-
And then my father knocked me out. We have a fight, no, he stood and turned and I was on the floor. I suppose I deserved it. The worst, perhaps most cruel, punishment was that I never saw Margret again. I was scarred and the scar hurt badly for years. I kept it together for the most part, though. There are times in life when you have to reserve the pain, hold it back, until late at night when you're alone in bed, the rest of the day in the sunlight you just have to bite it back and go about your business. And I did.
I received one letter from Margret, and only one. I've not seen her or heard from her since and that's okay. The memory of that split second peck on the lips is enough for me. I still have the letter, forgive me but I can't read it or tell you what it says. It pains me deeply to even mention it. I will let you read, though, if you wish. See, I'm old now and the world is burning out there and I have raised no children. Maybe I will live on in your memories, maybe not.
Here, here's the letter. There are no copies so be careful with it. When you are done leave it there, by the bookcase. I must go lay down now, I'm tired and old and I've told all I can.
Dearest,
I'm sorry I haven't written you or called. Not a day has gone by that you are not in my thoughts. I love you more than I can express in a letter. Uncle Tim says often that he would like to put you down like a lame animal, I tell him not to upset me, for the baby's sake. He goes out to the barn and busies himself with work until after my light is out. Some nights I hear him slamming the door when he comes in. Don't worry, Uncle Tim won't do any such thing. Aunt Bev says he's just upset about it and doesn't know how to deal with it.
Speaking of Aunt Bev, she's told me that once the baby comes it'll - she! it's a baby girl! - go for adoption. I don't know how I feel about that. I always dreamed about us having a family, yet, it doesn't look like that will happen. Not this time, not ever. Please, don't hate me, you will always be at the very center of my heart. Know that I will always, always love you. But I won't ever be able to come back to Sowell Pike. I think, I think it's best if we keep each other alive in our hearts with our memories. I will always love you, I only ask that you don't hate me for this. Please, don't try to come here. A clean break heals the best.
I won't get to name the baby but after the Dr. said it would be a girl I can't help but think of names.
I like Evelyn, or maybe just Eve.
With love, forever and ever,
Margret
Jacob set the water spotted (or was it tear spotted) letter down and sniffed back a lump in his throat. The house was silent. He got up and walked to the back of the old man's place meaning to tell him Thank you. Jacob wasn't sure what exactly he was thanking the old man for but he felt it appropriate. When he got back to the bedroom door, he stopped and decided not to knock. The quiet turned him around, he didn't think he even heard the old man breathing. Surely he was just sleeping and hadn't started sawing logs yet, surely.
Jacob went out the front door and eased it closed behind him. He didn't want to wake the old man up - he was just sleeping, right? He headed West, toward the thunderheads. Without a thought in his head as to why he was going that way.
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