Letters from Africa
The airport was rather hushed for being a Wednesday afternoon, unlike my mind which was rushing through thoughts as fast as they came. There were no lines in the shops or at the food joints that lined the halls of the vast structure. The worn, carpeted floor made gentle sweeping sounds against the few shuffling feet that passed me by. I found the small crowd that had Randy, my boyfriend of almost three years and the love of my life, in the center. I had really wanted to be the one to drive him to the airport, but his mother and father insisted to him that they should be the ones even though they didn't even believe he would actually get on the plane. I shook my head at the thought of them driving him.
He spotted me instantly and I felt my heart do that little flutter it always does when his eyes meet mine. I could tell that, even though he wore a smile on his face, today was the hardest day of his life. I made my way around the crowd and leaned on a wall with my hands in my pockets. I wasn't a part of his family, I didn't belong in the crowd. I sighed and felt my lips quivered involuntarily, a sign to myself, and anyone close to me, that tears were about to fall. I pressed them together to stop the quivering. Randy would have noticed.
I stared at him as I patiently waited for him to make his way to me. He was hugging various family members that showed up to say goodbye. I watched as he hugged his mother, it seemed like everyone was crying. It was hard to tell through my own tears, though. He then hugged his grandmother, Ina. She was smiling proudly. She knew he was going to do good things where he was going and she didn't need to cry. Perhaps she'd cried enough in her 80 years of her life over people leaving. I wished I had her strength. I knew he hated when I cried. He never knew what to do and consequently resorted to making me laugh. It wouldn't work there in that airport, and I think he knew. He hugged his cousin, Nick, who was also his best friend. Even Nick was crying. I'd only ever seen Nick cry once in the entire three years I'd known him, and he was tanked when he did.
It was my turn, my turn to say goodbye. I didn't want to. I never wanted to say goodbye to him, ever. Randy was taking half of my heart to Africa with him and if I lost him there I would never get that piece back. I kept watching him; his normally hazel eyes had turned green like they did when he was in an emotional state of mind. That was the first time I'd seen tears in his eyes that day. Not once before he came to me did he seem like he'd let that barrier break down and let the tears flow like a never ending river. My river, however, seemed to have no beginning or end. I'd been crying since I found out he was leaving. I raised onto my tippy toes and wrapped my arms around his neck and he buried his face into the crook between my neck and shoulder as he squeezed me tightly, almost painfully. I felt his large frame shake as we stood locked in each other's embrace. It had gotten hard to breathe from being hugged so tightly, but I just didn't want him to let go.
"I have to go."
"I know," I sobbed.
"I'll be back," he told me. I didn't know whether to believe it or not.
So I told him, "You don't know that."
"I will baby, I promise."
"Okay." I wasn't so sure, but to ease his mind I accepted the promise, "I love you so much."
"I love you too," he whispered. I took his face in my hands and kissed him. I kissed him with all the sadness, passion, fear, worry, anger, and love I had felt rushing through me.
"Please, please come back to me. I don't know what I'll do if you don't." Randy hugged me tighter. It was so hard to wrap my head around the fact that I wouldn't be able to see him, talk to him, hug or kiss him for a whole year. What if he changed so much over the course of that year that he didn't want to be with me anymore? What if he met someone else? What if he just stopped loving me? I'd asked him all these questions before. I didn't want him to worry about me anymore than he already was so I stayed quiet, save the sniffling.
Randy let me go from his tight hug and kissed me one more time while holding my hand tightly. "I'm going to miss you the most." He picked up his worn, blue backpack and heaved it over his shoulder. He looked into my eyes, I could see the tears rolling down his cheeks, and told me he loved me one last time before he left to go through the security check-point. Once he was through he waved at everyone and disappeared into the next hall.
After all of his family left I stayed. I stayed to watch his plane leave. I stayed to make sure he was safely on the plane. I stayed, hoping he didn't get on. But after watching all the planes leave and not seeing him coming back, I knew he'd gone. He'd left. I walked back to my car. Slowly. My mind, not knowing what to think, stayed quiet.
I slammed my car door shut as soon as I sat down and screamed as loud as I could as I beat on my steering wheel. The scream faded into sobs. I didn't think I could take it. I needed him here. He left me here. My best friend. My boyfriend. Gone.
Three months later, after getting home from school I walked into the house, as I rubbed my shoulders. "Hi mama!" She wrapped her arms around my neck after I bent down to scoop her up.
"Hey Lilli-bug. Were you good for your auntie today?" I asked the three year old. Lilli nodded her head emphatically. "Good," I praised as I set her back down. "How about you go tell auntie mama's home, so we can go drop auntie off at her home, okay?" I tossed my backpack to the side and cracked my neck. I couldn't seem to get myself to relax my tight shoulders.
"Okay, mama. Can we go see Randy after we take auntie home?" I felt my heart ache and thought please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry.
"No, baby. Randy is on a vacation. Very far away. We won't get to see him for a while." I pushed her off toward the kitchen and flopped down in my rocking chair. I felt the sting of tears as my voice broke. It was so hard to tell her 'no' about seeing him. She missed him as much as I did, despite the fact that he wasn't her biological father. My sister walked out of the kitchen, my daughter pulling her by the hand.
"You've got some mail. I put it on your table."
"Thanks," I absent-mindedly replied. I picked up the envelopes. Credit card application, bill, junk, junk. "Randy," I whispered. The last envelope had his messy handwriting. I tore it open as fast as I could without damaging the contents.
Dear Monica,
It's so different here. It's very hot and humid. They have us working in the small villages in the rainforest. The villagers are very grateful for the work we do. They give us food, which is a big thing here. I wish you could be here to see all the amazing sights. You would probably cry. That's how pretty it is here.
How is Lilli? I feel like it's been years since I've seen her, even though it's only been three months. I'm sorry it took so long to get you a letter. We were way too busy for me to have the time to write one. At least one that meant something.
How are you? I miss you so much. I dream of you. Almost every night. Last night I dreamt that we were on a beach, and you were pregnant and smiling and running around after Lilli and I was videotaping it. I cried when I woke up. I can't wait to get back. I love you so much. I'll write again soon.
Love,
Randy
I held the letter to my heart and started crying, my head hanging low to conceal the fact that I had started tearing up. I brushed past my sister as I asked her to keep an eye on Lilli for a minute, to which I never heard the answer but ran down the stairs to my basement bedroom anyway and picked up a pen and a notebook and started writing furiously, the pen almost putting holes in the paper, the writing barely legible.
Dear Randy,
You have no idea how good it is to hear from you. I have been worrying so much.
Lilli is doing great. She is starting to write her name. She asks about you all the time. I cry almost every time. I feel bad when she notices that I'm sad.
Do you know when you can make phone calls? I miss your voice. I need to hear it. I've been going nuts here. I wish I had good dreams like you do. All I have are nightmares. The same nightmare actually. That I get a letter from the people you're with saying you died in a rebel shoot out. It's horrible. I really can't believe I cry so much. It's just so hard to not have anyone here. My mom is in California, Sarah too. Now you, my last person close to me. You're in fucking Africa. I know I encouraged you to go but now I really want you here. I miss you more than words can express. Please, please come home to me safely.
Love always,
Monica
On the way to dropping my sister off at her house, I dropped the letter in a blue, USPS drop box that was nearby, feeling my shoulders tightening again. I rolled my head to try to ease the tension but I knew only one thing would work.
One month later I got a reply. I waited to open it until after I put my daughter to bed.
"Mama, why you not open Randy's letter?" I felt my heart break. Why did she have to notice little things like that? I asked myself. Then immediately scolded myself for being angry that she cared. I sighed and knew she needed and answer from me. A truthful answer.
"Well, baby, I didn't want to open it because I didn't want you to see me sad."
"What does worry mean, mama?" she asked in her sweet voice.
"When you worry it means you feel like someone you love is sad or upset."
"I worry lots, mama. Why are you so sad?" I felt tears start to fall down my cheeks. My eyes burned. I never wanted this. I never wanted her, my baby, to worry about me. It was my job to worry about her. Not the other way around. I got angry with myself again. Mentally slapping myself for letting the stress of Randy being gone show outwardly.
"I miss Randy, baby," I told her while trying to hide the sadness and anger (at myself) in my voice.
"I miss Randy too, mommy."
"I know baby. We'll see him when he gets back. But, right now it's bedtime. So you need to close your eyes and go to sleep. Okay?"
"Okay, I love you mommy," Lilli said as she snuggled down into her bed.
"I love you too, Lilli. Good night." I turned off her light and walked into my bedroom. I held the letter in my hands. Staring at it. Thinking about what could be written on the paper but afraid to find out. My heart began to beat faster and my breathing quickened as I tore open the envelope. I forced myself to take in a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Dear Monica,
I'm sorry I worried you. I try to write back as fast as I can. We're just so busy that it makes it hard. Trust me, it's just as hard to be away from you. I've cried more times than I can count in the last four months. I don't think I will be able to make any calls, but if I can don't ignore any from random numbers.
Baby, you don't need to worry so much. We're out of any war type places. We haven't been to a village that's seen any 'rebels' yet. I don't think we will. So your nightmare is just that, a nightmare. And I don't think you're alone. You have lots of friends, and you can always talk to Sarah on Facebook or Skype or something. I wish I could fix everything for you. I really do.
Just wait till I get home. We're gonna go nuts. On a drive. To anywhere. We'll go shopping or get massages or something. Anything to be just us spending time together. And I'm going to kiss you so much your lips are gonna fall off, because that's how much I miss you.
Love always,
Randy
I cried. Again. I sat on my bed trying to think of what to write him back. Once I finished crying even more, and screaming into my pillow until my throat was so raw I knew I wouldn't be able to talk in the morning, I started writing. I ripped the page out of the notebook and crumpled it up. It didn't come out right. I tried again and again and again and again, growing more and more frustrated with every ball of paper that filled the garbage can. I had filled my small garbage can with wads of paper before I found the only words that fit.
Dear Randy,
Please come back. I miss you too much. My heart is breaking. Please just come home.
Love,
Monica
I carefully folded the almost empty piece of paper, making sure the folds were perfectly straight. I addressed the small, white envelope and placed the stamp in the upper right hand corner so carefully to make sure that it was also perfectly straight. I kissed the seal of the letter, leaving a pink lip print from my lip gloss. I mailed the letter the next morning. It was a gray, gloomy morning. Rain drizzled all around me, making my hair become frizzy, soaking the mailbox and everything around it. A small tear fell down my cheek as I dropped the letter in the blue box. The tear left a cold trail in its wake.
A week later I received a phone call. I picked up the phone and almost immediately dropped it. I politely said goodbye to the caller and pressed then red 'end' key. I stared at my blue phone. The paint was worn on the edges and some buttons didn't work. The screen was scratched and dirty from being played with by a three year old. I held the small, blue phone tighter and tighter until I heard the plastic creak.
I heard the crack of the plastic breaking against the wall. I knew it would end this way.