Page 5 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
Also, I included a new address. Can you send letters here instead? The ladies at church are talking about how I’m still getting letters from you there. I don’t want to stop writing you, but I don’t want to hear their gossip either. Bill doesn’t really pay attention to the mail here, anyway. It will be nice to keep you all to myself. Is that bad? That I don’t want to share you with anyone? Not a secret, just personal. I barely even know you, but somehow these letters have become a lifeline that I’m just not willing to give up.
Hanging On and Hoping for the New Year,
Grace
October 30
Grace,
My buddy is infected with something, all right, but I’m sure he was fucked up long before he found the cat. The fucker gets around so much he’s probably got lots of various creepy crawlies. I forwarded this information on, however. He did not appreciate the implication that he was being mind-controlled by a cat. To paint a picture for you, he said this as he fed the cat pieces of his own rations while the cat lounged on a bed made from his shirts. He’s definitely being mind-controlled by a cat. I guess it’s better than the women that he usually finds wherever he goes. The restof the squad had a good laugh at this tidbit of information. Keep it coming.
I really don’t think about the holidays much. It’s all fucking bright lights and stupid music. Tell Bill he can take care of his family if he wants them around so much. For that matter, he can plan the fall festival if he thinks it’s so much work you can’t handle it. I really think you should do what you want. Take time for yourself. Don’t let the vampires leech everything from you. Me included.
Don’t worry about sending me holiday cookies. Though I do love them. I’m going to have to be rolled home at the rate I’m going with your baking. Maybe strapped up and airlifted like they do for rescued whales. Seriously, the kids at the Halloween Haunted house last year probably hated the house, but they walked away with your cookies as a consolation prize, so did they really lose out at all?
Do you really believe in God? I’m not sure I believe in all that. I’ve seen too much out here to believe there’s anything but greed, anger, hate, hurt, and innocent people getting in the way. If you do, can you put a prayer in for me? Actually, it’s for this kid we came across today. He’s not doing too well. He is a local and way too young for this war. I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Sorry to dump on you. I don’t want the hard stuff to spill over to you, but he could use prayers to whatever God you believe in. I can’t give you his name. Can you pray for him, anyway?
I’m more than happy to send the letters to wherever you want. I get what you mean about wanting to keep them to yourself. I don’t get the luxury of privacy here, but if I did, I wouldn’t share any part of these letters with the guys.
Barely Holding On,
Anders
March 15
Anders,
I’ve been thinking about your question from a few letters ago. Do I believe in God? Some days, I’m not sure he’s real. Other days, I’m so angry at him that I think I’ll explode. Most days, though, I wonder how my life ended up like it is. I wonder if he exists at all. How can there be suffering if he does? If he exists, it sure feels like he doesn’t care about me. Maybe I’m just too little for him to notice. There’s a lot of big bad things in the world, after all, and my worries aren’t so big. I just don’t know. Sorry to sound so sad. There’s been a lot on my mind lately. I shouldn’t dump this all on you. You have plenty enough to deal with.
I was watching a bird hop around the other day. It was chirping happily and pecking whatever seeds and bugs it found. It just seemed so happy to exist. It was the most peaceful moment of my life. Everyone always told me to find peace in God, but it just wasn’t there for me. I don’t know if everyone else is just lying when they say they find peace in God. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m too broken for that. I’m still dumping on you. I think you’ve just heard more of my inner self than anyone else ever has. Why is it so easy to share that part of myself with you?
Do you want to know the real story behind the unicorn stamp? I’m going to tell you anyway, so I guess just skip this part if you don’t want to know it.
I got it when I was a little girl as a birthday present from my grandma. She and I used to do crafts together when I visited her. It was my favorite thing to do with her. I don’t know why, but at some point, we stopped visiting her. She sent me the stampsafter that, so I could have them with me. My mom wouldn’t ever really tell me why I couldn’t go see her, and eventually, I stopped asking. I never forgot those days I spent making the most ridiculous and beautiful things with her.
For the first little while, after we stopped visiting my grandma, I would use the stamp and when I colored it in, I would pretend that I was riding the unicorn over a rainbow to my grandma’s house where we would craft and make cookies and nothing bad ever happened. I wanted to share that hope and dream with someone who probably also had days where they wished they were somewhere else. I felt like that when I wrote that letter, like it would be better to be anywhere else.
My grandma just passed away. The funeral is next week. I got a box in the mail just before she passed. It was full of all the crafts we did together, old recipes for the cookies we would make, and pictures of all the good times we had. I cried when I opened it. It was a good cry. The kind that is cleansing and freeing. Do men ever cry like that? Like all your worries escape through your tears and you can breathe again after? I miss her so much sometimes that it hurts. I think she must have known the end was near, otherwise, why send the box now, after all these years?
To compensate for this rather depressing letter, I included some cookies. One of the recipes my grandmother and I used to make. These are Danish butter cookies. I think we made them because they are just three simple ingredients, but they are so yummy that I just had to share them with someone. Congrats on being that someone. I hope they travel well.
Sad and Struggling,
Grace
April 5
Grace,
These cookies are amazing. You’re amazing. I’m sorry to hear about your grandma’s passing. I miss my grandmother, too. She passed when I was younger, and then it was just my mom and me.
I don’t know if I believe in God. I was definitely angry with him when I joined the Marines. I guess that means that I think he’s real. These days we have a more… distanced relationship. I figure someday I’ll meet him and, in the meantime, I’ll just live my life and not worry about it. My mom was sick when I joined. She never wanted me to be a marine, but I needed the money to care for her.
Ok, that’s not the full reason I joined. My dad was army. He died before I was born and I never actually met him. My mom used to say that she got a husband and a son, but not at the same time because one man in her life at a time was more than enough. I guess his unit had some deep talk about their feelings and shit, it happens, and he told them that if he died, they shouldn’t tell her right away. I wonder if some part of him knew he wasn’t long for this world. Maybe some people just know that kind of thing. They told her after I was born. They said he didn’t want to bother her with mundane issues like death. That used to piss me off. Now, I know what he meant.
My mom really believed in God, but I stopped going to church with her as soon as I was old enough to stay home alone. She made me wear a tie, and that was a step too far for a young Anders. I figured if God really wanted me there, it shouldn’t matter what I wore, but since that didn’t seem to be the case,he had to deal with me being gone. Then my mom went and got sick. She worked so hard her whole life. We had some benefits because my dad died in war, but it wasn’t enough to care for me and my grandma. So, God saw fit to take my dad, leave my mom with the burden of us, and then didn’t even have the balls to make it easier on my mom to care for us. She never saw it that way, of course, but I couldn’t see it any other way. When I had the chance to relieve some of her burden, I did.
I think some part of me wanted to connect to the dad that couldn’t be there. I couldn’t even get angry at him. It wasn’t like he chose not to be home with us. He didn’t choose to die. He wasn’t a deadbeat. He married my mom when she got pregnant with me so she could get benefits. He did everything he could to be a good dad before I was even born, and I didn’t even get to know him.
