"We have our own language you and I, one in which the word goodbye does not exist."
Dietfried's face became disfigured as he read Claudia's profound letter, his eyes orbited like a ship out of control through the crowded letters inside the paper, not giving credit to each word, but the soft and slender hand of the housekeeper who saw him grow up made him regain the sanity he thought lost and drowned.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, just as she had taught him "everything will be all right", those words pronounced by the experience of eternity, calmed him deeply, almost anesthetized the feelings and emotions that like foam began to effervesce inside him.
Violet stood outside in the gardens, oblivious to the reality and as Dietfried approached he was still debating in his heart whether or not to tell her the news.
He took her hands in his and placed the letter in them, Violet looked up at Dietfried and could see the darkness envelop her pupil, she closed her hands trapping Dietfried's in hers, but he simply slipped his hands through hers leaving her alone.
"And in the end, when it's all over you discover that there was never any such thing as chance."
Violet's arms fell to her sides inertly, her knees weakened and landed hard against the ground, from her hands the leaves of Claudia's letter were snatched by the wind, Dietfried ran to her side, he couldn't help seeing her suffer, then their gazes like fireworks met and she desperately hung on the collar of his shirt and her trembling lips pronounced the words that deep in their hearts they so desired " The major is alive".
and he wished to himself Dietfried that she would weep for him as she wept for him, but it had been an uphill battle to rid himself of the image of his younger brother in order to make her fall in love with him.
The letter said nothing more than that Gilbert was alive, there were no other words to give answers to the uncertainty of what "this living" could foresee.
...
the sea breeze, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore and the squawking seagulls were the first image of an unwanted awakening. Forcing myself to lose the person who had taught me the meaning of love, that tiny little being, full of innocence and at the same time so frightening and terrifying.
to look at her was to make up for all the years of youth lost, and I could not fight the insatiable desire to know she was loved. and so stealthily I did that the very war itself would show her a feeling that perhaps she should never have sown in the rubble of her little heart in the first place.
those feelings gnawed at my soul and everywhere I went I was unhappy because she had already conquered mountains higher than I could ever climb.
in the farthest newspapers they spoke of her exploits and the mouths of children pronounced her beautiful name, and it broke my heart, for trying to find peace away from her I found myself returning to the same place where once I loved her.
Living like a cursed beggar on the streets, having lost an eye and an arm in the escapades from which Violet lost her arms, the guilt was stronger, walking away was the best decision.
"And madness is a great irony, where perfect things and mistakes are best friends."