Part One, Chapter Two:

She sat in an oversized chair, pillows insulating her from the pain that ate away at her heart.

"Jack, where are you? Have I made you hate me again?" she thought to herself.

With slim black-framed glasses perched at the end of her nose, she studied the latest epistle she had produced. As she reread the lines of perfectly aligned and formed letters, she found herself remembering the event as though it had happened not thirty some years ago, but only yesterday.

My dear Jack,

I was thinking of you once again. You never leave my thoughts, and my dreams are full of images of you and I and how we used to be. My hope is that someday we might be that way again.

Do you remember the time we went dancing? You decided that it would be fun to go out to a night club, instead of our more dates at the bowling alley, a baseball game, or that little café we always went to. Arvin and Emily, who were also dating at the time, came along with us. Ah, how things have changed. Remember the man Arvin once was? That night it was so clear, so honest; the love he had for Emily was almost palpable, it was so overwhelming. He doted on her, worried about her; he did anything and everything for her. But I digress. It is us that is important now.

You came around five o'clock to pick me up, and when I opened the door to my apartment, your eyes shone brilliantly, and I felt as though my breath was being chocked out of me. We both were completely shocked at the other's outfit. I was wearing a strapless red dress that twirled and flowed as I walked. You had on a white shirt and that blue sweater I had bought you on your birthday, and had this adorable look on your face, shyly holding out a red rose. Hi Laura, you had said, you look especially beautiful tonight. I remember how you looked so nervous, we hadn't gone out on a more formal date before, and I knew how completely self-conscious you were, doubting the fact that a beautiful woman could ever love you. What a silly notion that was Jack, you were always such a gentleman, sweet, caring, and absolutely lovable.

Though we were mutually awed by one another, we managed to get to the night club in time to meet Arvin and Emily, who looked like the dazzling happy couple that they were. As we talked, laughed, and sipped at our drinks, I couldn't keep my eyes off you. You had my complete attention. When I felt you slip your hand under the table and reach to hold mine, I felt so secure. You were being so possessive at the club; three different men had come over and asked me to dance, but you gave them your piercing icy look, and scared them all away. When the main act came on, and the room was filled with the sound of gently swaying jazz, you finally asked me, May I have this dance, my dear? and we excused ourselves. Even though you were self-conscious and panicked that evening, when we stood to dance, your confidence returned to you, and we began to twirl and sway across the floor. Later you told me that you had gotten Arvin and Emily to teach you how to dance, weeks in advance, so that you could impress me. Again, what a silly notion; you needing to impress me. Jack, you impressed me from the first time I laid eyes on you. Your tall, lean body, your deep brown eyes that searched my heart and soul, your gently curling brown hair, your stunning smile that peeked out on special occasions; I never expected to be so enraptured by an American capitalist pig when I first came from Russia.

As we danced, you holding me close, the smell that is so distinctly you overwhelming my senses, the way your arms just fit so closely around me, the way that you would kiss my neck and collarbone when you thought no one was watching, the way that you looked at me at that one moment, with such utter love, trust and happiness in your eyes; that was when I knew my mission had failed. Jack, you beat me at my own game. From that one single moment when we were dancing at that club, I knew that I loved you. Standing in your arms made me feel so complete, so needed, so loved. It was the first time I told you that I loved you. It was the first completely honest thing I'd said to you. What a night that was!

I was reading a book, and I came across a poem that reminded me of you. Of course, that's nothing special, since these days, everything and anything reminds me of you. Standing in the shower, the smell of coffee, watching the stars at night, the feeling of raindrops drenching my clothes; all of these things bring me back to you. The poem was this:

If I knew

If I knew it would be the last time
That I'd see you fall asleep,
I would tuck you in more tightly
and pray the Lord, your soul to keep.

If I knew it would be the last time
that I see you walk out the door,
I would give you a hug and kiss
and call you back for one more.

If I knew it would be the last time
I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise,
I would video tape each action and word,
so I could play them back day after day.

If I knew it would be the last time,
I could spare an extra minute
to stop and say "I love you,"
instead of assuming you would know I do.

If I knew it would be the last time
I would be there to share your day,
Well I'm sure you'll have so many more,
so I can let just this one slip away.

For surely there's always tomorrow
to make up for an oversight,
and we always get a second chance
to make everything just right.

There will always be another day
to say "I love you,"
And certainly there's another chance
to say our "Anything I can do?"

But just in case I might be wrong,
and today is all I get,
I'd like to say how much I love you
and I hope we never forget.

It feels as though all of our troubles and the history that divides us, that it hides the truth from both our eyes and hearts. Despite everything, despite the lies, deceit, and pain, despite the powers that be, there is one thing that I am sure of: Jack, I have always loved you.

Always yours,

Irina

She got up, and once again, folding the letter in half, she walked over to where she had left the trash bin the previous night. She moved as though to toss the letter in the charred bin, but stopped. Tilting her head, she contemplated her choices, and with the letter in her hand, she went back over to the desk, and pulled out an envelope. She placed her letter in the envelope, sealed it, and wrote, on the front. She then placed the letter inside one of her books, and saved her decision about its fate for the morning.