The Last Letter
The Last Letter
Loose gravel crunched beneath my feet as I made my way along the path. It was bitterly cold, even for the middle of December, and my coat and scarf provided me with little protection. But I didn’t mind, choosing to focus instead on why I was here in the first place. Why I was walking along a deserted path through a cemetery in the middle of the night.
I was here because of him-because of John Arkwright.
It was almost humorous, actually, that he was the sole reason I was here. I’d only spoken with him twice in person. The rest of our correspondences were through letters. But that was enough.
“Excuse me, sir?” The voice drew my attention away from the book I was reading. I looked up, meeting a pair of brilliant blue eyes.
“Yes, can I help you?” I put on my best smile.
“I’m looking for something nice for uh…someone special.” An anxious smile graced his lips. “So, do you think you could help?”
“Of course sir, that’s what I’m here for.” I placed my book under the counter and stepped out from behind it. “Do you have any idea what this special someone might like?”
“She…uh, she likes necklaces a lot. And rings…J-Jewelry in general…” A nervous bark of laughter accompanied his words. “Anything pretty. But…everything here is so pretty and I don’t know what to choose.”
“Ah, okay…What’s the occasion?” I offered up another smile, hoping at least to calm him down. “That might help us find a place to start.”
“Just a gift, there’s not really any special occasion. I’m kind of trying to find a way to soften the blow of what I’m about to announce. I really don’t want her to be mad at me. I love her with all my heart and…And I couldn’t live with myself if I-” The young man broke off, biting his lower lip.
“…If I left and she was angry with me. S-See, I…uh…I have to leave. For awhile. I-I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. And there’s a chance I might not come back so…”
“Say no more,” I said, relieving him of explaining any of this further. I knew what he was talking about. No wonder he was nervous, the man had been drafted. And on top of that, he had to tell his someone special about it.
“Well no worries, sir, I’ll find the perfect gift for her.”
“John…”
“What?”
“Don’t call me, ‘sir’. That’s what people call my father. I’m John. John Arkwright.”
“Okay, well then Mr. Arkwright-”
“John.” He interrupted again. “Just…Just John is fine.”
“Um…if that’s what you’d like me to call you.” I really wasn’t used to calling customers by their first names. “I’m George Mayes. I own the store.”
“So,” I cleared my throat, “Let’s find something suitable for this special person.”
An hour later, after sifting through every single piece of jewelry that I had in the store, John finally decided on a cheap, though still rather stunning faux pearl necklace.
He slid the money across the counter to me as I place the necklace safe inside the bag and handed it to him. “Good luck, John. I hope she takes it well and I hope you come back safe and sound.”
“…Yeah…I…I hope so too. Bye, thank you for the help!” John gave me a small parting wave before he turned and walked out of the store.
My feet directed me where I needed to go. I stopped in front of the oh-so-familiar grave. As usual it looked neglected. I sighed, crouching down in front of it and wiping the snow off of it, letting the inscription show.
John William Arkwright. 1944-1966.
It was kind of sad that no else visited poor John. From what I gathered during our face to face meetings, he was a sweet man. He didn’t deserve to be dead. And he most certainly didn’t deserve having no one to come by because they cared for him-missed him.
“If it’s any consolation, I miss you,” I whispered, almost laughing at my stupidity. As if he could hear me. “It was her loss. You were a good man…”
“George!” I jumped as the door of to my shop banged open, a tearful John darting in.
“J-John?” I blinked. It had only been a week since he’d walked in here for the first time. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I stepped out from behind the counter, meeting him in the middle of the room.
“Sh-She…She…left me.” John gasped out between sobs. “I gave her the necklace and told her I had to leave and she left me. She told me she didn’t want to be with me, that she never really even loved me. Why? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, John. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I moved over to the door, changing the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned back to John. “Come on.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him with me into the back room.
I handed him a box of tissues and sat him down on one of the two chairs in the small room.
“I loved her…a lot. I don’t get it. Is it because I’m leaving? Did she really not love me?”
“I don’t know. I can’t answer that. But it’s her loss. I…don’t know you that well, but you seem to care about her more than anything. Even if you are leaving, you wouldn’t stop loving her. You could do so much better if she leaves you just because you’re going to war.”
John shook his head sadly, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. “Maybe…”
“Definitely,” I corrected, plopping down in the other chair. “Would you like me to get you anything?”
“Um, tea would be nice,” John said, struggling to smile.
“Okay, coming right up!” I pulled my lunchbox off the shelf, opening it and pulling out the thermos. “I usually have tea with my lunch, so here,” I handed him the thermos.
“Thanks. George. You’re really nice to me even though we practically just met.”
“It’s nothing, really. It’s a good thing to be nice to people. How else would you make friends?”
John took a sip of his tea, raising his gaze to meet mine. A melancholy smile played at his lips. It was a step in the right direction. “You’ve got a point.”
“Of course I do.”
A few minutes passed as we sat in comfortable silence.
“George?” John asked and cleared his throat, catching my attention.
“Hm?” I turned to look at him, his blue eyes locking with my green.
“…Would you mind if I wrote you letters while I’m...away?” He asked, clearly trying to avoid saying he would be fighting in a war-that his life was on the line and he wanted someone to confide in.
How could I say no? “Of course you can. I’d love to get letters from you.” I smiled. I found a piece of scratch paper and pen and jotted down my address.
“Just send the letters here, and I’ll write you back every chance I get.”
John took the scrap of paper from me, quietly slipping it into his pocket. “You’re a good man, George…”
“You wrote every chance you got. I even kept all the letters you sent,” I drew my knees up to my chest, leaning back against the headstone. “I enjoyed reading them. You were my best friend, you know.”
“It’s too bad I never got a chance to send my response to the last letter you sent me.”
I bent over my kitchen table, hastily scribbling my latest letter to John. I looked forward to hearing from him. He was my best friend now. We shared secrets, fears-everything. I trusted him more than anyone else. And honestly, I was scared for his safety.
I constantly wondered if he was okay. How he was doing. Would he be able to come back home soon?
His latest letter, however, crushed my fears. He said that he would be home sometime next month. Just in time for Christmas.
A sharp knock at my door jolted me out of my reverie. I pulled off my reading glasses and stood, heading over to the door.
“Are you George Mayes?” The man at the door watched me carefully, his gaze calculating. Yet at the same time it almost seemed sympathetic.
“Yes, I am.” Before I could ask why he wanted to know, the man at the door sighed, removing his hat.
“This is a notice from the military.”
“Wh-What…?” The man’s expression softened and he pressed an envelope into my hands before turning and heading back down the walk.
I closed the door, my stomach tying itself into knots. I carefully opened the envelope, pulling out the sheet of paper inside.
‘Dear Mr. George Mayes,
We are very sorry to inform you that Private John Arkwright was killed in a firefight two days ago. He requested for us to inform you if anything should happen to him.’
I didn’t read any further. I crumpled the paper, throwing it across the room and sliding down the door.
How could he be dead? He’d just sent me a letter and now he was…gone.
It wasn’t fair! He didn’t deserve to be dead!
I buried my face in my hands and cried.
“It was the worst day of my life…” I frowned, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.
“God, I miss you so much. It’s…just not fair that you’re gone. You didn’t deserve it. But…here we are. You’re gone and I’m talking to myself like an idiot.”
“I wish I could hear from you one more time.” Blinking back more tears I slowly stood up, placing a bouquet of larkspurs and pink roses by the gravestone.
As I turned to leave, the wind pushed me, as if willing me to stay.
And I swear to God I heard John’s voice behind me as I trudged back towards the cemetery gates.
“I miss you too…”
I was here because of him-because of John Arkwright.
It was almost humorous, actually, that he was the sole reason I was here. I’d only spoken with him twice in person. The rest of our correspondences were through letters. But that was enough.
“Excuse me, sir?” The voice drew my attention away from the book I was reading. I looked up, meeting a pair of brilliant blue eyes.
“Yes, can I help you?” I put on my best smile.
“I’m looking for something nice for uh…someone special.” An anxious smile graced his lips. “So, do you think you could help?”
“Of course sir, that’s what I’m here for.” I placed my book under the counter and stepped out from behind it. “Do you have any idea what this special someone might like?”
“She…uh, she likes necklaces a lot. And rings…J-Jewelry in general…” A nervous bark of laughter accompanied his words. “Anything pretty. But…everything here is so pretty and I don’t know what to choose.”
“Ah, okay…What’s the occasion?” I offered up another smile, hoping at least to calm him down. “That might help us find a place to start.”
“Just a gift, there’s not really any special occasion. I’m kind of trying to find a way to soften the blow of what I’m about to announce. I really don’t want her to be mad at me. I love her with all my heart and…And I couldn’t live with myself if I-” The young man broke off, biting his lower lip.
“…If I left and she was angry with me. S-See, I…uh…I have to leave. For awhile. I-I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. And there’s a chance I might not come back so…”
“Say no more,” I said, relieving him of explaining any of this further. I knew what he was talking about. No wonder he was nervous, the man had been drafted. And on top of that, he had to tell his someone special about it.
“Well no worries, sir, I’ll find the perfect gift for her.”
“John…”
“What?”
“Don’t call me, ‘sir’. That’s what people call my father. I’m John. John Arkwright.”
“Okay, well then Mr. Arkwright-”
“John.” He interrupted again. “Just…Just John is fine.”
“Um…if that’s what you’d like me to call you.” I really wasn’t used to calling customers by their first names. “I’m George Mayes. I own the store.”
“So,” I cleared my throat, “Let’s find something suitable for this special person.”
An hour later, after sifting through every single piece of jewelry that I had in the store, John finally decided on a cheap, though still rather stunning faux pearl necklace.
He slid the money across the counter to me as I place the necklace safe inside the bag and handed it to him. “Good luck, John. I hope she takes it well and I hope you come back safe and sound.”
“…Yeah…I…I hope so too. Bye, thank you for the help!” John gave me a small parting wave before he turned and walked out of the store.
My feet directed me where I needed to go. I stopped in front of the oh-so-familiar grave. As usual it looked neglected. I sighed, crouching down in front of it and wiping the snow off of it, letting the inscription show.
John William Arkwright. 1944-1966.
It was kind of sad that no else visited poor John. From what I gathered during our face to face meetings, he was a sweet man. He didn’t deserve to be dead. And he most certainly didn’t deserve having no one to come by because they cared for him-missed him.
“If it’s any consolation, I miss you,” I whispered, almost laughing at my stupidity. As if he could hear me. “It was her loss. You were a good man…”
“George!” I jumped as the door of to my shop banged open, a tearful John darting in.
“J-John?” I blinked. It had only been a week since he’d walked in here for the first time. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I stepped out from behind the counter, meeting him in the middle of the room.
“Sh-She…She…left me.” John gasped out between sobs. “I gave her the necklace and told her I had to leave and she left me. She told me she didn’t want to be with me, that she never really even loved me. Why? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, John. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I moved over to the door, changing the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and turned back to John. “Come on.” I grabbed his arm, pulling him with me into the back room.
I handed him a box of tissues and sat him down on one of the two chairs in the small room.
“I loved her…a lot. I don’t get it. Is it because I’m leaving? Did she really not love me?”
“I don’t know. I can’t answer that. But it’s her loss. I…don’t know you that well, but you seem to care about her more than anything. Even if you are leaving, you wouldn’t stop loving her. You could do so much better if she leaves you just because you’re going to war.”
John shook his head sadly, dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. “Maybe…”
“Definitely,” I corrected, plopping down in the other chair. “Would you like me to get you anything?”
“Um, tea would be nice,” John said, struggling to smile.
“Okay, coming right up!” I pulled my lunchbox off the shelf, opening it and pulling out the thermos. “I usually have tea with my lunch, so here,” I handed him the thermos.
“Thanks. George. You’re really nice to me even though we practically just met.”
“It’s nothing, really. It’s a good thing to be nice to people. How else would you make friends?”
John took a sip of his tea, raising his gaze to meet mine. A melancholy smile played at his lips. It was a step in the right direction. “You’ve got a point.”
“Of course I do.”
A few minutes passed as we sat in comfortable silence.
“George?” John asked and cleared his throat, catching my attention.
“Hm?” I turned to look at him, his blue eyes locking with my green.
“…Would you mind if I wrote you letters while I’m...away?” He asked, clearly trying to avoid saying he would be fighting in a war-that his life was on the line and he wanted someone to confide in.
How could I say no? “Of course you can. I’d love to get letters from you.” I smiled. I found a piece of scratch paper and pen and jotted down my address.
“Just send the letters here, and I’ll write you back every chance I get.”
John took the scrap of paper from me, quietly slipping it into his pocket. “You’re a good man, George…”
“You wrote every chance you got. I even kept all the letters you sent,” I drew my knees up to my chest, leaning back against the headstone. “I enjoyed reading them. You were my best friend, you know.”
“It’s too bad I never got a chance to send my response to the last letter you sent me.”
I bent over my kitchen table, hastily scribbling my latest letter to John. I looked forward to hearing from him. He was my best friend now. We shared secrets, fears-everything. I trusted him more than anyone else. And honestly, I was scared for his safety.
I constantly wondered if he was okay. How he was doing. Would he be able to come back home soon?
His latest letter, however, crushed my fears. He said that he would be home sometime next month. Just in time for Christmas.
A sharp knock at my door jolted me out of my reverie. I pulled off my reading glasses and stood, heading over to the door.
“Are you George Mayes?” The man at the door watched me carefully, his gaze calculating. Yet at the same time it almost seemed sympathetic.
“Yes, I am.” Before I could ask why he wanted to know, the man at the door sighed, removing his hat.
“This is a notice from the military.”
“Wh-What…?” The man’s expression softened and he pressed an envelope into my hands before turning and heading back down the walk.
I closed the door, my stomach tying itself into knots. I carefully opened the envelope, pulling out the sheet of paper inside.
‘Dear Mr. George Mayes,
We are very sorry to inform you that Private John Arkwright was killed in a firefight two days ago. He requested for us to inform you if anything should happen to him.’
I didn’t read any further. I crumpled the paper, throwing it across the room and sliding down the door.
How could he be dead? He’d just sent me a letter and now he was…gone.
It wasn’t fair! He didn’t deserve to be dead!
I buried my face in my hands and cried.
“It was the worst day of my life…” I frowned, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.
“God, I miss you so much. It’s…just not fair that you’re gone. You didn’t deserve it. But…here we are. You’re gone and I’m talking to myself like an idiot.”
“I wish I could hear from you one more time.” Blinking back more tears I slowly stood up, placing a bouquet of larkspurs and pink roses by the gravestone.
As I turned to leave, the wind pushed me, as if willing me to stay.
And I swear to God I heard John’s voice behind me as I trudged back towards the cemetery gates.
“I miss you too…”