Thank you for your offer of a triple…that would be really something.
I just reread your letter about me writing hundreds of soldiers, hoping, perhaps, to catch one of them. Hahaha…can you imagine a hundred soldiers receiving my rambling nonsense? I did mention I'm a career woman. I can’t have more than one person know about the whacky thoughts in my head.
I hope you’ll keep my secret and write again. And if you have access to email, here is mine: [email protected]
If I don’t hear from you till after Christmas, I hope yours was merry and bright. I bet the stars in Afghanistan truly bring the Christmas spirit to life. ;)
Truly,
Vivian
Chapter Four
[email protected] Sent: 12/12/15 3:18To: [email protected]
Dear Civilian Girl,
Your letter made me smile. It has been a while since I smiled, so my muscles were out of practice. I needed that, so thank you.
I made a game of counting how many times you said, “I shouldn’t say,” or “I shouldn’t do,” and then followed up by immediately saying or doing exactly what you say you shouldn’t. I’m smiling again, remembering. You said it a lot. I feel like I should use an emoticon here so you can see I really am smiling, but I also feel you'll start questioning my gender again if I do. Manly emoticons, add that to our list of inventions. We are going to revolutionize the way people use social media. Check us out, between this and your clandestine military adjacent/civilian contractor job, I think world domination is inevitable.
While we are on the subject, you would literally be the worst spy ever. You do realize you've given me enough information to find out exactly where you work. Granted, I've watched a lot of Law and Order, so I'm practically a detective (insert Ironics font here), but still, the clues were heavy on the ground. One Google search and a browse of your Linkedin profile would have told me everything. But don’t worry, Civilian Girl, I did not Google you. If you wanted me to know where you worked, you would tell me. I understand keeping things private. I do that too. Sometimes, it is because things are classified. But other times, it's just because they are mine, and I don’t want to share them with the world. Maybe your job is like that for you. I respect that.
I have to tell you, I've already shared more with you than I have with most people. I don’t usually tell people about Luke and Steven. It is not that I'm ashamed of Luke at all; that could not be further from the truth. The reality is, I'm usually disappointed in people’s reaction. I can deal with the overt prejudice and homophobia, because that's easy to shut down. But it's the condemnation—delivered with apparent kindness and concern—that I hate. So I usually don’t talk about my family at all. It's just easier. But since you asked, Luke and Steven are my only immediate family. I have some cousins in Montana, but I haven't seen them in years.
As for my parents, we like to say my father died of pneumonia. That is the official story, but he died of alcoholism. The irony is, he never touched alcohol until he retired, not even wine with dinner. Most people take up golf when they retire; dad took up Scotch. Luke and I didn’t know it was happening. Mom covered for him until the end. And to be honest, we were both pretty self-absorbed at that point. When he died, Luke had just moved to San Francisco and I had just started Ranger School. I was at Camp Rudder. I’ll never forget my commanding officer handing me that telegram. I think shell-shocked would be the best way to describe it. I couldn’t believe my dad was gone. He was my hero. In my mind, he had almost mythical proportions, and in the end, he was brought to his knees by the bottle.
Anyway, two years later, my mom died of breast cancer. Another base, another telegram. She never even told us she was sick. I like to think it was because she didn’t want to burden us, but sometimes, I wonder if she didn’t tell us because she didn’t think we'd be there for her even if she had. God, I hope that wasn’t the case. But I was young and stupid. I can still be stupid, but at least now I'm old enough to know better. Anyway, I hope she knew that I would have been there. And I really hope that I would have been. I can say now, looking back, that I would, but at the time…well, I hope. And now it's my turn to say that I really should not have told you that.
We seem to have a knack for confessing things to each other. I think you’re right; it's the anonymity of this. We can talk about meeting in some parallel universe, but the reality is, we won’t, and we probably shouldn’t. That would be too weird. And it would ruin it, whatever this is. And here's the thing, Vivian, I kind of like this thing we have going. I would even go as far as saying that your three letters have been the highlight of the month. If you knew my current living situation, you wouldn't actually consider that a compliment, but it was sincerely meant as one.
While I'm confessing, I should tell you that I looked you up on Facebook. I wasn’t going to. I was serious when I said that I respect your privacy. But then I reread your letter, (I won’t tell you how many times I read it because all my street cred will be destroyed), and I got to the part about you sitting in a rocker with your grey hair, and I had to see who you were. I can honestly say I did not care what Vivian Castello looked like, as long as there really was a Vivian Castello.
So yes, I cyber stalked you. And damn, I'm glad I did. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you look nothing like what I thought you would. You are gorgeous. I thought, well, let’s not talk about what I thought you would look like. Again, I would like to point out that I didn’t/don’t care what you look like. I would be writing this email even if you looked like, well, the way I assumed you would look. But lucky for you, you don’t. You’re beautiful, Vivian. I'm sure you hear that a lot, but it is true. I am actually glad I didn’t know what you looked like when I got your first letter. I would have tried to up my game, failed miserably, and come off as a complete jackass. Which reminds me, that soldier at Starbucks really is a moron. Was he blind? You slip me your email, I am writing you back.
To answer your question about care packages, no, Luke does not send me stuff, but Steven does. Every month or so, I get a jar of Jif peanut butter and a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth’s maple syrup. I don’t think they can legally call it maple syrup anymore, because it is really chemical-flavored, high fructose corn syrup, but damn, that stuff is good. That's what my childhood tasted like. God bless commissaries.
Anyway, I should get to bed. I have another exciting day ahead of me. I would tell you what it entails, but lucky for the United States Armed Forces and the safety of the Free World, I keep a better secret than you.
But don’t feel too bad, you’re far better looking than me, so there is that. Speaking of which, I don’t have a Facebook account, but it's only fair that you get to see a picture of me, so feel free to cyber stalk my brother or his partner (Steven Rosato). There is picture of me climbing Mt. Shasta on Steve’s page. I’m the one in the blue shirt. Luke is in red. Yes, we look alike, and no, we aren’t twins.
Good Night Civilian Girl,
Soldier Boy
From: [email protected] Sent: 12/12/15 3:18To: [email protected]
Dear Civilian Girl,
I can't sleep. This isn't a new thing, but this time it is because I am thinking about something you said. You said you could go home for Christmas, but you didn't want to. I have spent the best part of three hours thinking about why you didn't want to go home. You are well within your rights to tell me to mind my own business. I won't hold it against you if you do, Scout's honor. And yes, I really was an Eagle Scout. But if you want to tell me, I am happy to listen. Just putting it out there. No matter where you spend Christmas, I hope it's a good one.
Sincerely,
Soldier Boy
Chapter Five
Letter Post Date: December 14th
Dear Soldier Boy-Mission Impossible-Uber-Detective, (I would say 007, but I’m hoping you are a 1 gal kind of guy),
December(well you’ll know the date when you get this).
Wow, I must say, re
ceiving an email felt a little more intimate, as your letter didn’t have to pass through x amount of people to reach me. It was just a click and in my inbox. However, I’m not sure what type of scanning system the military has in regards to screening incoming and outgoing email. Given that, I’ll go ahead and keep the nudes to myself, especially since you have already seen my face. Whereas, if you hadn’t seen my face, I could have sent random photos of who-knows-how-many women and pretend it was me. Haha!
Hmm…I’m not sure about our world domination with special fonts and manly emoticons. I don’t know if the world is ready for that. Apple just introduced the different shaded people. Can we also now have specific emoticons that are manly enough for even a top spy like yourself?
Thanks for not Googling my LinkedIn. Yes, I have one. And no, you shouldn’t look at it for our children's and grandchildren’s sake. You wouldn’t want the romance of the century to be crushed because of one small moment of curiosity. I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying, however, I don’t want to mention the “c” word again, because then you might doubt my honesty about that specific type of pet.
And I’m shocked to hear that you don’t want to meet me IRL. Seriously? I have already planned our wedding. Now that I’ve gotten that small image—and not small as in your body; it’s obvious you work out, as I would suspect you would as a soldier—you can’t let yourself go and be plump and doughy. Which makes me think of bread…are you a carb fan or no? I’m trying a gluten-free diet. It’s interesting to say the least.
Which, by the way, the photo you saw of me on Facebook is from like, twenty years ago, and maybe like, minus two hundred pounds.
Haha! I can’t help myself. I’m just kidding. That was actually taken over Labor Day weekend. Liz, Millie, and I went on a girl’s trip to Santorini. It was the most picturesque place I’ve ever visited. I bet you might compare it to Afghanistan on a warm summer night. Imagine the sun catching the light off a sand dune in such a way that makes you think that the oasis of water is where you’ll fall in love, am I right? ;)
You never told me about the weather. Isn’t that protocol for any type of correspondence? Or am I expected to Google your whereabouts and think about what you might be experiencing? No! I’m not. I want to experience it through your words, not some weather app. Okay, I’ll admit I did add Kabul to my cities of preference on my Weather app on my phone. I couldn’t help but wonder what type of sandstorms you may or may not be encountering. I’m not even sure you’re close to Kabul, and you probably won’t tell me either, since you are so much better at keeping secrets than me.
That’s really sweet that Steven sends you care packages. Does he up the ante at Christmas and throw in some Nutella? ;)
I’m sorry to hear about your father. That must have been very difficult. And then to follow up by losing your mother as well. I wish I could reach through the screen and hug you, if that were even possible.
My dad died when I was three. So I didn’t really experience the sense of loss at an age that I could truly recognize. My mother remarried when I was seven. I like—well, scratch that—I do love my step-father, but things have been strained recently. My brother (technically step) recently died, and that’s the reason I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be a part of all the sadness and reality of it. I haven’t been home since the funeral, and I don’t want to. Somehow, in the back of my mind, all of it isn’t really real. I keep telling myself that it was just a production. I don’t want to deal with the reality of it. I can’t.
Whoosh…wow. I really just shared all of that with you. I went to see a counselor after he died, and never even uttered any of those words. And yet, here I am, spilling to you. Okay. But I can’t share any more sadness; that isn’t fair to you. I’m sure you see plenty of that in your environment, and you prefer flowers and sunshine from me? Ha, well, probably not sunshine. I’m assuming you get a ton of that?
Speaking of which, I could go for some sunshine, besides the words that you send me, I mean. I don’t want to sound too giddy, especially since I already told you I was planning our wedding (it was a joke just in case you didn’t get it). Except, if I was planning our wedding, I’m guessing your color would be blue since that’s the only color I have to work with from you in that picture. Which really doesn’t give me much. I guess I’ll friend request Luke and/or Steven to see what extra film footage I can get my hands on. I’m not really a gambler, but I’m going to bet they have some interesting photos of you. And probably some that are much closer than the one of you on the mountain. Even zooming in, you are too far away. Kind of like the reality of our situation. The distance is so far, even with the capabilities of technology, can it really bring us close enough? We’ll have to try, at the very least for the grandkids. I’m assuming at least one will be named Matthew.
Seriously though, I won’t friend request either of them. I’ll wait till our wedding for you to introduce me. Haha! I’m sorry. Well, not really. I can’t help it. I find that amusing. Hopefully, you do too, or at the very least are not frightened by my joke. If so, I won’t make them anymore.
Which will take effort on my part, but I’m willing to do that for my fut—just kidding. Anyway, work has been a handful. I’ve had to stay until past nine every day this week. And in case you didn’t know, DC starts at 8AM sharp no matter what. Given this, I’m sure you can see what type of eventful social life I live. Oh yes. After I badge out, I hit up all the major night spots and dance until the club issues last call. I suppose that might be in one of your parallel universes. The one where I go out and have fun. Oh no. I’m sounding all Debbie Downer. I’m not really. And my projects normally don’t run overtime like this, but my partner—who shall remain nameless, as I don’t want you checking out their LinkedIn in fact I won’t even specify gender. I’ll just say Partner.—they made a bit of a glitch, if you will, with their calculation on a report. And because of that, the proverbial bathroom discussion material has hit the fan. And it is spinning out of control.
That's another reason that I need to bid you adieu. How about that for being multi-linguist? I bet you didn’t see that one coming. ;) (For the record, my French is limited so please don’t try and surprise me with a return letter in French).
Oh wow, I was just about to seal this envelope, and I got your email. You’ll see I’ve answered it above. Knowing you were at your computer at the same time as I was writing to you, I feel somewhat closer to you.
Sweet dreams Soldier Boy-Superior Spy,
Civilian Girl-Bad Spy-Great Wedding Planner ;)
[email protected] Sent 12/15/15
[email protected]
Email December 15th
Dear Matthew,
I had to write again. After I dropped that letter in the mail, I immediately had joker’s remorse. As I was writing in my horrendous handwriting (which I don’t even know why I torture you with it, it must take you hours to decipher), I found myself amusing. But then, once it was out of my hands, I had an immediate sense of urgency to retrieve the letter. It was gone, already sent, possibly delivered, and read. And now what? Do I send this email to say I probably shouldn’t have sent the letter? Or will this email make it worse?
I’m going to sit on this email. If you write back—and I hope you do—I’ll be honest with you and send this along with my next one.
Maybe it will be good for you to see the thoughts that run through my mind.
By the way, I was wondering, do you sleep in a bunk?
Argh…I can’t just let this email sit. I’m going to send it. I know I probably won’t hear back tonight, but either way, sorry about all my jokes. I think I was just a bit too giddy about your email and your compliments, because they did make me feel good.
Yes, I have been told that I’m pretty before, and it was nice to hear. But the way you wrote about my appearance from one photo…I can’t help but admit I was swooning. And I probably shouldn’t admit that. But it’s the truth. It made me feel amazing.
That’s all. There you have it. I’ve now spilled waaaaay too much of my inner self.
I probably won’t hear back from you because of my oversharing.
But I hope I do.
Truly,
Vivian
Care Package Post Date December 17th
Dear Matthew, December 17th
I’m going to go with your name instead of (Dear Soldier), because I want this to make it to you without any confusion. I know I put your name and address on the package, but I’m not sure if it gets opened prior to making it to your hands. Which, by the way, are very nice-looking from that photo. You really know how to grip a rope. ;)
Also, since I’m not sure about how many people will see this package, I will not include any of the photos that I previously mentioned. This will remain a package that I would feel comfortable being rifled through by Luke and Steven.
Since it’s a few days before Christmas, I did my best to see if I could have this expedited, but I’ll let you in on a secret, though it probably isn’t to you or maybe it is. Maybe you’ve never shipped anything to anyone in the military. There is no “expediting”.
I hope that the enclosed items retain their shelf life through the journey to your very strong hands.
I know you mentioned peanut butter and syrup as being a way to your heart or stomach. Either way, I decided to stick with the theme of toppings. I have enclosed Nutella. I personally cannot keep Nutella in my house because—confession time—I would eat all of it in one sitting. I have no self-control. *hangs head in shame*
Dear Soldier Boy Page 2