Page 67 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
A little later that evening, down the road at a twenty-four-hour truck stop and diner, Henry ordered a cheeseburger and fries. While he waited for his food, he pulled out Edith’s letter. He had read it so many times he could almost recite it from memory.
Dear Henry,
How are you? I’ve missed your listening ear these past few weeks. I’ve needed a good friend to talk to. I hope you don’t mind if I unload on you a little now. Feel free to throw this straight into the recycling bin if you have no desire to read the ramblings of a troubled soul. (I only say that because I’m fairly confident you would do no such thing.) In the time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve seen the kind of man you are. And you’re the kind of man who lets a woman ramble when she needs to.
Henry, I wasn’t completely honest with you. I told you in one of my previous letters that my husband and I shared everything in his dying days. I led you to believe that we were in love and all was right in our world once again. That’s not true.
You want to know the reality of it? The final week before Brian’s death, a woman from his office came to the house to see him. She had brought food. I went to put it away in the kitchen and when I came back, I saw her for a moment before she realized I was back. I saw the look in her eyes as she gazed down on him sleeping on the couch. And that’s when I knew.
I didn’t know how long it had been going on. I didn’t know how much it had meant to Brian. But I could tell it obviously meant a great deal to her.
I did the only thing I could think to do at the time. I thanked the woman for coming over and I never said a word about it to anyone. As far as I was concerned, when Brian died, we loved each other, and we were at peace. I forgave him and moved on. And up until a few weeks ago, I think I even believed it.
Remember Steve? Of course you do. He drove me crazy. But you want to hear something even crazier? Part of me was flattered the whole time he was here. Why? Because I’d convinced myself he really cared for me. That I was such a catch, he was having a hard time letting me go.
But as we both know now, my money was the only thing Steve was having a hard time letting go.
Do you understand now why I will never remarry? Probably not. I’m rambling. Stick with me a few minutes more.
Henry, I didn’t even have feelings for Steve, and he still managed to hurt me. I don’t think I could survive it if someone I did care for cast me aside like that. Not after what I went through with my parents. Not after what I went through with my husband.
I just can’t go through that again. No matter how much I may be tempted to with the right sort of man. Not even a man I love. Not even you.
It’s not worth the risk.
Thank you for listening, Henry. You’ve been a good friend and I hope you know how much it’s meant to me.
Love, Edith
“Here’s your order, honey.” The waitress slid a plate and Coke onto the table. “That looks like a heck of a pen-pal letter you got there.” The waitress swiped a ketchup bottle from the table behind her and plopped it next to his plate. “Or is it from your girl?”
“A friend,” Henry said, folding the letter back up.
“But you wish she was your girl.”
“Excuse me?”
“Honey, I been working this truck stop for years. I’ve seen every sort of face a man can make when he sits down to eat and has nothing but time to think. And you’re thinking about that girl, ain’t ya? Wishing she was more.”
Henry looked at the name tag. “Phyllis,” he began.
“Around here, they call me Dr. Phyllis. I’ve been known to dish out as good of advice as I do burgers.”
“I see.” Maybe it was her hound dog eyes. Or the pencil sticking out of her hair that Henry was pretty sure she’d forgotten since she carried another two in her apron pocket. Whatever it was, Henry found himself nudging the chair next to him out with his foot and saying, “What do you know about women, Phyllis?”
She wasted no time settling into the seat. “Considering I’ve been one for sixty-two years, I’d say I know quite a bit.”
“Then tell me this. How do you go about getting a woman to trust again?”
“Trust in what exactly? Relationships in general or you in particular?”
“Both.”
A bell dinged on the counter. “Order’s up!” a voice shouted from the kitchen.
“Hold your horses, Gary!” Phyllis yelled over her shoulder. “Give me a minute to stew on this...”
“Henry.”
