Written for the SKoW Prompt: 4 -
Prompt: Forty days. I have to last absolutely forty days without [insert pronoun here]. I'm going to die.
Written in an alternative format, enjoy.
Day One
Dear Jason, I know I told you that I would be able to survive fine without you here. I know that I told you that I would be okay, that everything would be alright. I know, I promised that I wouldn't worry myself or give myself physical damage by missing you too much, but thinking about you too much. But here I am, writing this to you, this silly little journal that I probably won't even let you read when you come home. I can't help it though, I miss you. I can stop thinking about you. This is the first day of opening my eyes and knowing that I won't see you, won't hear your voice. I'm wearing my sweater that still smells like you, it feels warm like your arms. But it's different, it doesn't feel loving, you feel loving.
I lied to you yesterday, I don't know if I can do this. I don't think I'll be able to survive.
Day Two
I took a shower today and the shampoo bottles were still flipped upside down from your last shower. I remember how I used to always yell at you for that, because I like them right-side up, you always kept them the wrong way though. After I used the shampoo I kept them flipped upside down, I hope that it'll remind me of you every time I take a shower; I hope it makes you smile when you come home.
Day Three
My engagement ring looks so pretty in the lighting of the lecture hall. A girl next to me leaned over and complimented it; she wondered why I was engaged so young. I just smiled and told her that you wanted to make sure every guy knew I was yours while you were gone. I hope you're safe, I hope you're doing okay. I didn't cry last night, I felt sick to my stomach but I still didn't cry. I held my head up high and looked right into the framed picture of us, the one at the dunes last summer. I looked at your tanned, smiling face and I could almost hear you telling me, "Becky, I know that it's a lot to ask, having you wait for me…"
I can still hear my own soprano cutting you off, "Jason, there's no other option, I'm going to wait for you."
I feel you kiss my hair and tell you love me so much, that you're so lucky. All I could think about at that moment was how scared I was, for your safety, and for my heart. I can still feel the pinpricks of tears at the back of my eyes, the water tempting to break free. The ache of my throat is still palpable in the back of my throat as I write this, the burn of so much emotion being trapped in, caged inside. I couldn't let you see me cry though; I had to be strong because I knew you were just as scared as I was.
Days Four through Seven
I'm sorry that I haven't been able to write, my Civics Professor is Homework Nazi, I think his plans are to make my life as miserable as humanly possible. My fingers still ache from typing; my eyes still burn from staring at the starkness of the computer screen all night. I miss the way you would pull me away from the computer and beg me to play checkers with you, or to make love. You were my poison, keeping me from my tasks, and I think somewhere along the line I got addicted to my procrastination venom. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry.
Day Eight
I got your letter and wrote a reply before this. I was relieved to hear that you arrived safe. I didn't tell you about this journal, I have decided I want it to be a surprise for when you get back. I am very tired and after writing you a letter and finishing my term paper I don't have much time for this entry, I just wanted to say that I love you and miss you.
I can't wait for you to come home.
Days Nine and Ten
I've gotten the flu, I don't know how but it's making my life unbearable. It also reminds me of the time when you and I both got food poisoning from shellfish over the summer. We called in sick from work and stayed in bed all day, in pain, but also in love and together. It was probably the best time I had ever had while being sick. I'm hoping you got my letter, I'm also hoping that you're safe, I heard about the bombing. I can't remember if that was near your base or not, you're in my thoughts always.
I hate to tell you this, but I'm scared.
Day Eleven
I got a C on my term paper, he told me that I lack reality and firm stance. What he meant to say is that I am pathetic and I don't even deserve a high-school diploma. I wish that you were here to hug me and tell me that it would all be okay.
Days Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, and Sixteen
I don't mean to neglect you, baby. I got your letter and made sure to write a long reply. But now that you're gone I have to take up more hours at work, seeing as I don't have anyone to help me pay bills and such. I honestly never realized how hard it would be without you here, I guess I didn't realize how much I actually took you for granted. I miss you so much and I will show you how thankful I am for you when you get back. Oh, I forgot to tell you in the letter, I cut my hair, it's short again- the way you like it. But I'll have to get it cut again before you come back, it'll definitely be long again by then.
It makes me sad thinking about how many days there are until you get home, I just want you home now. I want to feel you kiss my hair and hold me in your arms. I want to hear your laugh and voice. I want to know that you're safe, that you're with me, that nothing can happen to you. I love you so much, Jason. You are my world, my everything; you are the most important person in my life.
Day Seventeen
I dreamt about you last night. It was a wonderful dream; you and I were walking on the beach barefooted. There was a full moon and the tide was at its perfect level. Our hands were locked together, embracing forever. We stopped and looked at each other, and then you looked at the stars and told me I was beautiful. We kissed.
I woke up sobbing, I feel like I am falling apart. I hate that even my most amazing dreams make me sick to my stomach without you here. I hate that even the sound of your name can cause me to tremble and crumble to pieces on the floor. I need you here; I need you to hold me together. I need you more than they do.
Day Eighteen
I just reread that last entry; I didn't realize how selfish I sounded. I know that you are doing your duty; you're doing what you love to do. It's wrong of me to want you to come home, for me to want you to give up your passion for me. It's just… Things are so hard; it's so hard not to miss you. It's so hard not to be angry, to be scared, to be upset, and to be lost. Sometimes I wake up and wonder why it has to be you, why this has to be your job. I realize that I probably wouldn't love you so much if it was any other way. I want you to help these people, to make yourself happy, it just sucks that I have to sacrifice you, my time with you, my own happiness for you.
I love you so much, Jason, I wish we could be together sooner.
Day Nineteen
I was watching the news this morning, there was another attack even closer to your base. I'm really scared, Jason. Your brother says I need to stop watching the news, that it'll only upset me. But I think what would upset me more would be not knowing what is going on, what's happening to you. I turned the TV off and wrote you a letter; I sent it by express, because I need to know if you're alright. I need you to be alright, for me. Please, Jason, I need you to be okay. I miss you so much.
Days Twenty through Twenty-Four
Work has been hectic, school is even worse. I still haven't gotten a reply from the letter I sent you. I pray that you got it, that yours is on its way. I'm wondering how long this journal will be. I've been thinking about how long you'll have to be away, I've finally hit the wall. I wake up in the morning and cry. I spend the entire day trying not to cry. I end up lying in bed and crying myself to sleep, and then I wake up and repeat this cycle. This life isn't fair, college freshmen are supposed to be partying and having fun. But I can't do that when you're gone. I can't be happy, I can't let things go. With you overseas I can't concentrate on anything. I can't do anything.
Day Twenty-Five
I signed up to a local support group on campus. It's for depression. Everyone had stories about being abused, being neglected, or feeling ugly. When it was my turn I stood up and said my fiancé was dying. I don't know why I worded it like this, I feel mad at myself as I said it. But when I started to cry everyone put their arms around me, for a minute it felt like you really had died.
I felt alone.
Day Twenty-Six
I can't live in this apartment by myself anymore, I don't have the money. I don't like being here by myself. One of the girl's from the support group needed a place to stay; she's moving in and helping with the rent- just until you get back. She saw your graduation picture in the living room and thought you were cute. I told her she had no idea. I excused myself to take a shower and looked in the mirror. The bags under my eyes gave away my nightmares, but the tear streaks that are not there, but visible to me have scared my cheeks. I pull my hair back. I feel all wrong without you.
Day Twenty-Seven
I still haven't gotten your letter. Another bomb.
Day Twenty-Eight
Your brother called me, he was crying. Instantly, I felt sick to my stomach. Apparently that bomb yesterday was dropped on your base, the troop is being flown back, some of them are beyond recognition, and most of them are dead. The rest of them are surely dying. He told me that he would pick me up in two days; we had to go to the hospital in the city to see. I was squeezing the telephone so tight that my wrist has a big bruise on it. Sandra, the girl from the group, heard me crying and asked what was wrong. I told her I didn't feel well, but she doesn't know the half of it. I feel like I've had a bomb dropped on me. I'm so scared, Jason. I miss you so much.
Is it wrong of me to be happy that you're coming home though?
Day Twenty-Nine
I am packing my bags right now. I am excited, and I am scared. I had trouble sleeping last night because every time I started to doze off all I could hear was your gentle snoring beside me.
Day Thirty
I'm sitting in your brother's car right now, he's playing U2 and holding the steering wheel with anxiety set in his jaw. He does look a lot like you, even eight years your senior he still has your boyish features. His chin is stubbly with morning haste and his eyes are focusing on the road but not seeing it, I can tell he understands. He asked me what this notebook was and I told him it was a project for college, I don't know why I want this to be a secret, maybe I'm scared that he'll feel even worse for me if…
If you won't be able to read this.
The traffic is slow and sad. The sky is grey and humid. The song is dark and gloomy. All the signs are pointing for the worst. I'm trying to forget about the symbols and metaphors that I learned in high-school and am trying to focus on the hope I have for you and the excitement that is still boiling inside of me to see you, and kiss you, and hug you. I feel as if I am going insane, I feel as if the world makes no sense without you here. Mostly, I feel as if you'll find me childish when you read this.
Day Thirty (continued later)
I am currently sitting in the waiting room of the hotel, your brother is ringing his hands and filling out paper work. My stomach is tying in knots as I watch the other women, and elderly parents, and siblings sit and wait as they're names get called to seek out their families. We were redirected here after checking the base; none of the healthy ones were you. Your brother tried to comfort me, saying that you were a wimp and probably demanded to be taken to the hospital for painkillers due to a stomach ache. I laughed, which just made him look like crying.
It's almost time for us to go in.
Day Thirty-Two
I'm sitting by your hospital bed, fiddling with your bandages as you sleep. I can smell the thick creams they've smeared on your burns; I can hear the raspy breathing. Your brother left an hour ago, since only one of us can be here at a time. He kissed you on the cheek and tried to hide the fact he was crying. I pulled out that picture of us at the dunes and set it on your bedside table.
Even though you'll never see it.
Day Thirty-Three
You made the slightest noise today. I am sitting in the waiting room while your brother has his time with you. There is a woman, my age, with a belly so swollen that it looks as if she could give birth any minute. The woman is crying as she holds an older woman's hand.
I have never been so thankful in my life.
Day Thirty-Four
They don't know whether or not your sight will ever return. They do not know if you will ever be able to fully speak, comprehend, or be mobile again. You are not you, I am still without you. Your brother has fallen to pieces before my eyes and I feel like I must look as much a wreck as he. My hair is surely turning grey, my eyes are permanently puffy, and my skin will forever be blotchy. And I am still without you.
You are here in body, and nothing else.
Day Thirty-Eight
I felt a slight squeeze when I held your hand today, since then my own hands have not stopped trembling.
Day-Forty
"I love you."
It was the first thing you whispered at 3:34 this morning; you squeezed my hand and whispered it in a foreign voice.
But now I know it, you are here, you are back.
You may never regain your sight, but I am beginning to read this journal to you. It seems to make you happy.
I missed you.