I had no idea what time it was. No way to tell, no shadows anymore. My legs shook as I stood, the ground still just as hard as always on my feet. I looked around for Eve, it was always dark in my home (cave) and at first, fright seized me. She was so vulnerable and alone, if she was gone it was my fault. For whatever reason I laid down, it was a poor one. Time had no meaning in this moment, but there she was.
Almost feel silly now, being so scared for her. Many things brought fear into my heart since I left my home; since my Ruthie had gone from me, so long ago. I’d run into a myriad of thugs and even before, when the WTF were herding us along chain link fences topped with razor wire, I’d been face to face with a masked man in full body armor holding an assault rifle. But I was more afraid in those waking moments than I had ever, ever, been.
Automatically I walked over to my pack. An old olive drab duffel bag that sat in the corner never bothered anyone. My brain circuitry had been rewired so that upon waking and before going to sleep I checked my pack. You could never be too careful now.
My heavy clothes, light clothes, and under clothes lay folded and clean on the left side of the pack. The right side housed all the utensils that could fit. The big pot I’d come across some time ago sat on its base by the fire pit. I reached down the center of the pack, my fingers spider-crawling down below the crude clay plate. There it was, my little wooden cigar box. The one with the red lining, the one I’d never burn – no matter how cold and desperate I got.
‘A. & R. K.’ so well engraved in the dark oak that all the years and all the wandering couldn’t wear it away. It had been a wedding present, one we both cherished and one I still do. Unnecessary weight some might say, the box was rather thick, sturdy. But to me this box was the lightness in my step, the thoughts that ignored my back pain. Our wedding rings were in there, our marriage certificate, the deed to our property, the baby book we never got to fill.
A letter rested against the unfinished bottom of the box. A letter I only read once. I was thinking about the way the paper envelope had wrinkles in it, a marker of time passed. And then I was undoing the blue ribbon with frayed ends, the one held my Ruthie’s hair back right there at the end. The glue didn’t hold anymore and when the ribbon was untied the old wrinkled paper opened like a flower.
At the sight of her beautiful penmanship I almost put the blooming envelope back in its place. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and gingerly picked up the letter.
To my beloved Abe,
From this bed we’ve shared for the better part of thirty years I can see the picture of our wedding night. I can remember every sincere ‘I do’ to come from your lips on that day. I’ve been your bride everyday since, never your wife, always your bride.
I’m so very sorry we never got to see a child of ours grow. I know how you wanted that, so did I.
I’ve come to accept my fate and I won’t bother you with my fears that bubble up from time to time. What will be, will be.
What really scares me is the world I’m leaving you to. Everything really went caput, huh? You’re the strongest, most loving man I’ve ever met. You’re the one I wanted to die with, and I am, here in our bed. That makes me happy, Abe. Know that.
I’m getting sleepy and you’re downstairs fixing some medicine or something for me. So I’ll leave you with this:
I love you, and when my body dies my love for you will continue on, as I know yours for will.
Yours, in health and in sickness, ‘till death parts us,
‘Your’ Ruthie Kastel
p.s. when you find her let the love we have be for her. I’m sleepy and it’s getting dark here. I love you. R.K.
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