Freedom of Love (Letter From Home #2)(15)
Leaving the shower, I wandered for a while through the rows of dirt-tan tents, with no particular destination in mind. Not finding solace in my thoughts, I headed to the MWR to email Molly. The desire to talk to her, even if only by email, was too strong to deny.
Our emails had become more personal, sharing more than just our love of books. I began emailing after a hard shift, unburdening myself, and was thrilled when I received her encouraging email in return. It was a dangerous pursuit, knowing that I could be setting myself up for heartache. Somehow, over the past several months, she had wormed herself into my life. And I could not stop myself from wondering if she felt the same.
Chapter 7
(July – Molly)
“Come in.”
I opened Susan’s door and stepped in gingerly. Her gaze lifted from the files on the desk to my face and she smiled.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked, wanting to talk but not knowing who else could understand my concerns.
“Absolutely,” she replied, nodding her head toward the chair in front of her. As usual she did not immediately ask me what I wanted, but leaned back waiting for me to pull my words together.
Twisting my hands together in my lap, not knowing how to approach the subject gently, I blurted, “I think I’ve made a huge mistake with my soldier.”
Tilting her head slightly in question, she waited again. Sucking in my lips, I continued, “We’ve been corresponding more and more, and we…we talk.” More silence. I recognized her silence as an indication for me to keep talking, but I wished she would say something. Anything.
Swallowing deeply, I stared down at my clasped hands and said, “He tells me about his work.” I hesitated, thinking of his job, and a small smile slipped out. “He’s a medic and rescues people from a helicopter.” I sighed, thinking about the importance of his work. “He’s amazing.”
“Amazing?” Susan repeated.
Jerking my eyes back to her, I nodded rapidly. “Oh, yes. He’s brave and daring and smart.”
“He sounds like someone else I know,” she interjected.
I stared at her, not understanding what she meant. Rather than explaining, she asked, “So what mistake have you made?”
“I’ve never told him about me…what I did…where I am. And now…” I sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, feeling tears prick my eyes. “And now, we’re friends and he doesn’t really know who I am.”
The silence in the room settled over me as I was afraid to look into her face and see what I was sure would be recrimination. Finally, finding my bravery, I lifted my head, and to my surprise, saw her smiling.
“Do you know why I insisted on you corresponding to this soldier, even though it was an emotional risk?” she asked.
Shaking my head, afraid of tears falling if I spoke, I stayed silent.
“Molly, your record was perfectly clean…not even a traffic violation. You had a job, went to school, and worked hard. You helped with your sister after your mom died two years ago. And one night you visited your sister and ended up hitting your stepfather when he was drunk and he died when he fell and hit his head. And yet, you never explained why you hit him. You never defended yourself. Since being here, you’ve been soft spoken, haven’t argued with anyone, and have done exactly what you’re told.” Shrugging, Susan said, “I’m sure that if you had had a competent attorney, you would not be here. So, I’ve often asked myself, who were you protecting?”
Shaking my head as though in slow motion, I replied, “It’s done. It doesn’t matter.”
“I wanted you to correspond with the soldier because I wanted you to have some kind of connection with someone from the outside. In my opinion, you don’t belong here and you will be released in three months, back into a world that might judge you harshly. Having a connection with someone over a shared interest gave you a chance to see that there can still be a life for you that isn’t defined by these prison walls.”
“And when he rejects me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I confess I didn’t expect a friendship to grow…I thought a pen-pal experience would be good for you. But, since you are friends, there is a risk of rejection. We all make decisions, Molly. And we have to live by those decisions. You made a decision that night with your stepfather and sister and you are now living the consequences. Even if this soldier rejects you, the harsh reality is that he won’t be the only one in the outside world who will. But there will be those who will not judge you by the decisions of that one fateful night.”
“I could just disappear…not write him back,” I protested.
“Yes, you could. But, somewhere along the way, you need to let someone in and, if not, then you’ll be missing out. Don’t be defined by your incarceration.”
We sat in silence once more, the ticking of the clock and our breathing the only sounds in the room. Standing, I lifted my head and held her gaze before turning to walk out of the room. On stiff legs and still battling tears, I walked back down the long, lonely, stark hallway to my cell.
Pulling up Brody’s last email, I re-read it for the hundredth time, the words memorized by now.
Molly,
I had a shit day and yet at the end, all I could think about was getting to the MWR and telling you about it. At least what I can. It was a full day, ending with a MEDEVAC of someone who will never be the same. No matter what I did, this war took too much from him. Sometimes I hate what I do…what I see.