Letter Six
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:00 AM
You cook? Well, I'll be, Mr. Army Enthusiast cooks? You know, toast doesn't count. ;)
From: : Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:02 AM
Har Har. No, I like making my special lasagna my grandma used to make before she died. She made the best Italian dishes you can't find in Little Italy.
What about you? Can you cook? You know, toast doesn't count.
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:05 AM
I leave all the cooking to Abby. Occasionally I'll help out at the diner on the weekends. Actually, that reminds me that I'm working the dinner shift tonight…
Sadly, no, toast is much too hard a concept for me so it wouldn't matter if it counted anyways.
What was your grandma like?
From: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:12 AM
She was the typical Italian grandmother, I guess. Always had her black hair tied back in a bun with some gray hairs sticking out. She liked to feed me. she lived to make me as fat as possible! But I remember how she smelled like cinnamon and candles with some trace of hay she would feed to the horses they had on their ranch. She had a rich accent since the immigrated from Florence, Italy to the New York Suburbs when my mother was still a baby.
She meant the most to me growing up, since she was my part time babysitter before I started going to school while my parents worked. She would let me help take care of some of the horses, grooming them, feeding them. She made me learn how to cook and taught me recipes she said she'd never teach anyone else. My mother would always try and get me to tell her the secrets but I never waivered.
She died of old age the same year my parents got into an accident.
I bit my lip, feeling my eyes water. I could relate so well to Zach. It reminds me of how human he really is, not just some army buff that the description I found weeks ago made him out to be. He hid is true, kind, sweet personality so well in the beginning. But that was just his shield, his M.O. I'm drinking in all the information I can about him. He's so intriguing, so different from anybody I've ever met.
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:20 AM
She sounds amazing Zach. I can't imagine what it felt like to lose the ones you love so suddenly. It reminds me of how lucky I was to have Joe and Abby.
Is the ranch still there? The horses?
From: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:24 AM
I don't know…when they died they had the will but no one thought it was necessary to tell a seven year old what was on it. They sought me out when I turned eighteen but I refused to open it or listen to any of the lawyers. I had just put everything behind me, the memories, so it's sitting in a safe in the bank. I've thought of going back a few times or reading the will. But I never did, and then I was shipped out here a year ago for a two/maybe three year term.
I'm pretty sure there's a housekeeper that cleans up the house and ranch, but I'm pretty sure the horses were either sold or put on a different ranch until I was old enough to really take it over.
Anyways, you're working at the diner tonight? I thought it was a fancy shmancy restaurant?
I smirk, surprised that he noticed that detail.
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:26 AM
Ah, changing the subject. How quid pro quo of you. I'll let it pass though ;)
Jokes aside, I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me all of this. Especially since we've never actually met.
Did you know I got my horseback-riding badge in Girl Scouts when I was thirteen? I was kind of too big to join the Brownies so they let me make up for it and still let me be a Cadet…or was it a junior? I don't remember. All I remember was that we drove to a ranch up in northern Connecticut during late spring. Joe was carpooling five pre-teens! It was an interesting ride to say the least.
From: : Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: : Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:28 AM
Really? Joe? Hanging with pre-teens? The same man who threatened to shoot me down if I turned out to be a pedophile talking to his daughter? The same man with a membership in the NRA?
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:31 AM
Maybe this haiku will confirm your questions:
Hidden persona
Oh, hath thou inner preteen
Tis thy own father
From: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:32 AM
That was beautiful Cammie. Truly moving. ;)
I didn't know you were such a literate. Remind me catch up on my reading before we meet in person so I don't look like a dumbass next to you.
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:35 AM
Mmhmm. Since when were we planning on meeting in person, Captain?
From: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: : Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:36 AM
I was actually just joking Cam…but, I do get a two week break in July…if you want to meet up sometime?
From: : Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:40 AM
Oh, um, wow. That would be great Zach. I would love to meet you in person. We can talk about it more closer to then?
From: : Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9:43 AM
I look forward to it, Cammie. I'm starting to lose connection now and lights out are soon, so I should get going.
Have a good day Cammie. Same time tomorrow?
From: Igotzbballz4life(at)gmail(dot)com
To: Z._17(at)gmail(dot)com
December 6, 2009 9: 45 AM
Same time tomorrow.
Goodnight Zach.
Your friend,
Cammie
Grinning, I logged off my laptop and threw it at the foot of my bed and laid back under the covers with a yawn. It was still early morning on a Saturday and I'd gotten up early to email back and forth with Zach while he was still up because of the thirteen-hour time difference.
I was floating on clouds as I tried to catch up on my rest. I was soaring on the high of the new knowledge I had of my penpal, our building friendship growing as well as the butterflies in my stomach.
I realized this was how I always felt after talking with Zach and wondered if the excitement would ever ware off.
No, I thought, I would never tire of this.
~X~X~X~X~X~
I got up a little later when Joe came barging in at two o'clock in the afternoon to check my pulse. Tired but still floating on clouds, I greeted my surrogate father with a grin that made him a little more than a bit suspicious.
After a late lunch, I checked the time and realized that it was about the time when the mail would arrive. Since Zach briefly mentioned receiving the package and my letter, I had my hopes up for one of our old fashioned replies: the letters were always the best, no matter how quick and convenient cyberspace was.
I raced down the steps on my front porch, my feet slipping and sliding in my haste. But I was just so excited at the possibility that I received a reply.
I bounced on my feet trying to catch a glimpse down the street at the UPS mail truck. I fingered the yarn of the homemade scarf that Abby, my adoptive mother and guardian made for me. It was blue mixed with some red and green at the ends.
I could feel my hands become sweaty despite the snow falling. My stomach growled because I could still smell the cookies Abby was cooking in the kitchen and I longer for the UPS guy to hurry it the hell up so this anxiety would stop killing me.
I just wanted to see if I got another letter, and if I did, I wanted to curl up by the fireplace to defrost my toes and fingers with a glass of milk and plate of Abby's snickerdoodle cookies and read the letter, analyzing it a hundred times until the paper wrinkled and tore at the corners.
I was so lost in the fantasy with a stupid grin on my face that I didn't notice UPS guy pull up beside the curbside.
"Hey, Miss, are ya gonna take your mail or not? This freezing Connecticut weather is freezing my ass off over here!" he waved the stack of mail at me and my eyes widened in apprehension.
"Oh, yes! I'm sorry!" I said, signing the dotted line for a small package for Joe from his parents-who insisted I call them Gran and Pappy.
I muttered a thank you to him and ran up the frozen steps, grinning at the haphazard that is Joe's attempt at putting up Christmas lights.
I opened the door quickly and blessed the wash of warmth that started to unfurl my toes. I rifled through the mail, discarding advertisements and Abby's yearly subscription of Home magazines.
But then an inch thick letter appeared on top with about fifteen stamps on it, showing its travels across seas, countries, and states. Grinning widely, I did some sort of squeal/happy dance thing. Hands waving in the air and all.
"Something interesting come in the mail?" Abby asked with her ankles crossed as she leaned on the archway that separated the kitchen and dining room with a smug look on her face, knowing very well what interesting mail I've just received.
"I'm just gonna…take this into the living room," I said and arched a brow, her brow contracting upwards in mock imitation.
"Sure, kid…you do that," she snorts as I back away form her slowly with the letter held tightly to my chest.
"Yeah, so, cookies smell good…and I'll come help-"
"Just go! I'll bring you cookies," she grinned and waved me off.
Grinning back at her, I bit my lip to stop the squeal that threatened to slip.
I ran into the living room, sitting down carefully on the leather couch by the fireplace.
I looked around to make sure no one was watching or reading over my shoulder, although I knew I'd have to call Macey later to tell her about the newest letter. But, for now I wanted to keep this to myself.
I could hear Abby working in the kitchen. I could hear the faint creaking of floorboards upstairs as Joe paced back and forth, probably on the phone with his Executive Assistant.
Knowing that I was very much alone, in theory, I tore open the envelope, smiling as I saw there were multiple letters labeled with 'Thank Yous' and specific names I've heard about from previous letters from my Captain.
My Captain?
The thought startled me and my heart started to go double time as I quickly set aside the other letters to find the one specific one I've been waiting for this past week.
I exhaled slowly as I unfolded the piece of paper, skimming my eyes over the semi-neat scribble.
Dear Cammie Morgan,
I want to thank you for the care package you sent…the guys really liked all the Axe and Old Spice deodorant you sent because…well, in Afghan, they really don't give us much, if at all. And after awhile it feels like my nose is going to fall off. 'Man stench' gets nauseating in this cesspool. We also watched a few episodes of Fresh Prince of Bellaire Season 3 that you sent us. Grant wanted to watch the Full House complete set you sent for him (I may hate you a little bit for that, by the way). Bex was excited when you actually got her Victoria Secret perfume and those pink colored…tampon things…
Anyways, about your questions…no, I can't say I'm much of a Justin Timberlake fan though I did listen to a couple NSYNC songs when I grew up. My favorite kind of food is Italian because my mother was a full-blooded Italian through and through. That's one of the things I miss out here, is this hole-in-the-wall Pizzeria in New York a few blocks from where I used to live. Being out here, across the world from the only place you knew, you realize how lucky you had it. You realize that every minute of every day counts because you'll never get those back.
I used to watch the rest of the guys in the Company I'm in charge of write home to their families, girlfriends, wives, kids, and made me feel…lonely even though I'm surrounded by over a hundred men I trust with my life out here. But it was the thought that I didn't have anyone waiting for me when my tour here ends. Some of the guys would tell me that it makes them fight even harder out here with loved ones in mind and the need to get back to them safely. I used to think that it was just a distraction that could get you killed out here.
But then I received your first letter. You didn't know me. You didn't know if I was single, happily married, or seventy years old. It was your kindness and that care package you sent that made the guys and some of the girls out here really brighten up and smile for the first time in months. The first time I've smiled in months.
So, I hope we can continue to exchange letters, though I hope you know that we don't expect anything more than what you've already given us. Given me. you don't know how much I appreciate receiving your letters. It's the highlight of my day, now, when I've gotten a reply from you and I often hope it's the highlight of yours when you receive mine.
It's my turn for questions now!
What is your favorite color? What do you want most for Christmas? And if you receive this after the holidays, what did you get? What's your Adopted parents like? How does it feel to be in your last year of high school?
Well, I'll let you get back to your holiday fun!
Merry Christmas.
Sincerely,
Captain Zachary Goode
I read the letter over and over, gnawing at my lip until Abby brought in a plate of cookies and milk with a pad of paper and a pen.
Smiling softly, I pondered exactly how I would respond to my soldier in Afghanistan.
A.N. Happy Valentine's Day! So our Captain Zach and Cammie are progressing, eh? Don't worry, the real romance fluffy stuff starts in the next few chappies!
If you review, I'll give ya a teaser ;)
~Akira
