The Price of Freedom

Dear diary,
Today was it. I couldn’t see him, but I felt his cold eyes on me. It’s hard for me to realize that those are the same eyes that once held the radiance of the sun within them when they looked at me… but it’s all so different now. I know I already told you about what happened, but I still just can’t believe it.

When I was little, I used to think that there were boatloads of magic in the world and if I squeezed my eyes closed and believed hard enough I’d get some of my own. Magic is supposed to give you a happy ending. I guess magic doesn’t exist.

It couldn’t exist because we were beautiful together. "Eric and Vanessa, two people meant to find each other," said the people who had seen us together.

He used to hold my hand with a sudden tenderness so unexpected that… That I’d gasp in surprise when he would lock our fingers together. When he did that, he’d always try to make his naturally big smile smaller. He had always hated that he had a big smile, but that was one of the things that I loved the most about him.

We were so in sync.

Conversations between the two of us ebbed and flowed with ease. We'd walk to the same beat and dance to the same music; not because we had to, but because it was natural. There was no other way for us than to just, be, so why not just be together?

I always knew when he wanted to kiss me but was too nervous to. He would fiddle with the bottom hem of his shirt between the forefingers of each rough hand and hold the right side of his full bottom lip between his teeth. While he did that he would steal a glance at me, but only when he thought I wasn’t looking back.

He would instantaneously know if I was having a bad day or not just by touching his hand to mine. I would know if he was in a bad mood just by the sound of his breath. If it was calm and steady like waves in a lake in the hours just before sunrise, it meant he was okay. If it was short and had no rhythm, it meant he was going to flip his lid at any moment. It meant he wasn’t okay.

Turns out once he signed those papers, I’d be one who wasn’t okay.

I was mad at him at first, so mad I didn’t talk to him for three days. I wish I could have those three days back and do them over. They’d be three more days to spend with him before he would be taken from me forever.

At two fourty-seven in the afternoon on the third day he showed up at my doorstep with flowers and said he wouldn’t leave until I came out and talked to him. He was true to his word. He stayed there the whole night and the following morning until I finally caved and met him out on the porch.

He made me understand, that he had to do it. He had to not only because of his family tradition but because he felt like if he didn’t, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

I wonder what he’d say about that now.

I remember the day that he left like it was yesterday. I was crying and I knew he wanted to cry too. I could feel it and so hear it by the sound of his breath, it had a forced rhythm but was ragged and hitched in his chest sometimes so hard he would quiver against me. We both knew he wasn’t okay. Eric didn’t cry though, he stayed strong in his brand new, pressed and fancy uniform and held me until he was ordered to get going.

Diary, that was the last time I saw him.

That was the last time he heard me in person say, "I love you.”

He told himself he was okay for a few months after he left home. I told myself I was okay for a few months after he left home. We told ourselves it was all going to be fine. Once he did this, we'd be reunited and live our lives out the way we'd always dreamed of. Although, the dreams changed daily, they always had both of us in them. Alive and happy.

If magic existed he’d still be here. I’d be holding him instead of this folded red, white and blue fabric. We’d have our happy ending together. I wouldn’t have had to see his smooth casket sitting up in the front of the church with his uniform photo beside it.

I’d hold him instead.

I’d see him instead.

I don’t know what to do now. The closest thing I had to magic was him, and now he’s gone. Now, I feel like there's nothing left of me.

Sincerely,
Vanessa