Letters to Kelsey

A couple of weeks later, it was completely miserible for all of us but it had to be. I felt like I couldn’t even sit in the house anymore alone and that I needed to do something with myself. It rained all day, since three days before and I couldn’t release any tension at the beach. However, instead, I took Noah’s old rusty blue convertible for a ride and drove down to the city for the best yellow daises. Noah loved daises and I thought that he’d love to have them. I even drove down to the market and picked up a huge upside-downwards pineapple cake. It was one of Noah’s favorites, I remembered. I literally went out through the day and bought needingless things, but I felt that I needed these things for Noah. After my pointless shopping, I went back home and pulled out Noah’s old sketchbook. I left all the lights out, due to the storm approaching then and lid two vanilla sented candles with a slice of cake too. I didn’t care that I was horrible in art, I just wanted to draw or at least try to. It helped me remain calm and reassuring that everything was going to be just fine.

An hour to an hour and a half, I was finished drawing. For being not so good in art, I did an absolute fantastic job and I believe that Noah would’ve been proud. It was a drawing of a couple waltzing in the middle of there living room and they were happy. It was very detailed and sharp, I was impressed with myself. After admiring it for a few minutes, I sat it beside the box of letters I had yet opened. It almost slipped from my mind, but nothing would even allow that from happening. The next day, a very cool day, it was Monday and Frank came over to check on little ‘ol me. It was just around the last time I had seen him when I broke his nose—it really was broken and he also brought Joel with him. We talked for a while, drinking coffee and eating cake. It was nice, really and I slowly began to feel a bit safe around Frank. It felt alright and I wanted it to be alright.

Then it came, so suddenly that I could hardly breathe correctly. I remember vomitting that next early morning of Noah’s funeral. I was not looking forward into seeing Lt. Kelly and General Bailey again either, but they were there. I wore my black lace gown with a tiny black veil and carried daises in one hand, Scarlett in the other. We all gathered around the old cemetery along side a weeping willow and beautiful angel tomes on each side of us.

I couldn’t believe that this was finally it and I didn’t consider that this was the very last time I’d lay eyes on Noah. I felt warm arms wrapping themselves around me and lips pressed against my cheeks. Lips of family members and Scarlett’s before she took the painting from my handbag. I watched her place it close to her heart and then kissed it gently. I just glanced at her and pulled out the unfinished letter that I was hesitant about keeping, sheding a few tears. Scarlett stood up and awaited for me to stand as well to hand over the precious gifts. Everyone thought it was beautiful, I did too and I was proud of myself for not throwing away the last letter to Noah. At the end of the ceremony, I was given a perfectly folded American flag and a silver pin. I accepted it and wiped my last tears, before sudden rain clouds darkened the sky. I’ll never forget it, that day when it rained.

Later that night, after I put Scarlett to bed, I sat out on the front porch with a glass of wine. My eyes were glued to the pitch black sky, still stained from crying for the last time and for the first time in the three years Noah had been gone, I didn’t daydream about him. I believed that I didn’t need to that night and that Noah was in a very happy place than dusty earth. My mind was just a cloud and there was nothing else to think about in that very moment. Just as I took another sip of wine, I noticed Frank walking over towards me, out of the pitch darkness and into a penumbra figure from the full moon. The way the light casted among his skin had made him appear to be the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

“Frank, what are you doing here? It’s late.” I slurred, wiping droplets of wine from my lips with the back of my hand. “You shouldn’t be here, go home and go to bed.”

“I should say the same for you then, Kelsey.” Frank pointed out and sat closely beside me. “May I have the alcohol?”

Without asking why or even what the hell was he thinking of doing, I gave him the wine and sighted heavily. Frank placed the bottle and the glass beside him, away from me and then wrapped one arm around my shoulder. I knew that this was a bit strange, but being absolutely under the influence and dead, I didn’t care at all. Frank was there to comfort me.

“I’ve been drinking that bottle for the passed hour, Frank. I’m not that drunk, I promise.” I said, hiccups spilling from my lips. “It just hurts to think now, you know?”

“Well don’t think as much, alright? Just relax.”

“And I cannot sleep, dammit it’s hard to even try to.”

Frank nodded as if he understood everything that I was explaining to him, rubbing my collar bone with his thumb and exhaled. “I’ll stay if you want. Just fall asleep and it’ll be alright.”

“No Frank, please. You don’t have to and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“You’re upset and drunk. You smell bad, but that isn’t stopping me from helping you. Look, I know this is a bit strange, but I’d really like it if I stayed.” Frank exclaimed.

I didn’t argue with him. I was drunk out of my mind and I was going to have the hugest headache in the morning. “Fine,” I told him. “If you want to stay, I mind as well tell you how things went today.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“I haven’t touched that box yet. You know, Frank. The box I told you about.” I recalled, hoping he knew exactly what I was talking about. “But I have been meaning to open the letters that I wrote to him and the letters he wrote to me.”

“Why haven’t you open them yet?”

“I’m not ready yet, Frank. For once, I’d like to let go.”

“You’ll be able to let go once you’ve read all the letters that Noah had written and you’ll be happy.”

Frank was completely right, right about everything even though he only knew so little. I told him about the box and how I was going to open it right after the funeral, but I drank wine instead. I wiped my dry, stained face and slipped away from Frank’s arm. I needed to open that box, which still sat in the same exact place. Frank grabbed the wine and followed me into the house, into the dinning area. I finally picked up the box, dusting it off before I’d open it and sat down before what was held inside of it. I was anxious to find out and this was the only way to know everything beside what I knew from Frank, and Joel.

The first letter: April, 6th, 1944