realized. Yeah, it’ll be hard, but life moves fast—we’ll see each other again. I know that. I can feel that. Just like I can feel how much you care for me and how much I love you. I know in my heart that this isn’t over, and that we’ll make it through this. Lots of couples do. Granted, lots of couples don’t, but they don’t have what we have.”
I wanted to believe her. I wanted it more than anything, but I wondered if it was really that simple.
When the sun had disappeared below the horizon, we walked back to the car, and I drove her to the beach house. I stopped a little way down the street so no one in the house could see us, and when we got out of the car, I put my arms around her. We kissed and I held her close, knowing for certain that the next year would be the longest in my life. I wished fervently that I’d never joined up, that I were a free man. But I wasn’t.
“I should probably be going.”
She nodded, beginning to cry. I felt a knot form in my chest.
“I’ll write you,” I promised.
“Okay,” she said. She swiped at her tears and reached into her handbag. She pulled out a pen and a small slip of paper. She began scribbling. “This is my home address and phone number, okay? And my e-mail address, too.”
I nodded.
“Remember that I’ll be changing dorms next year, but I’ll let you know my new address as soon as I get it. But you can always reach me through my parents. They’ll forward anything you send.”
“I know,” I said. “You still have my information, right? Even if I go on a mission somewhere, letters will reach me. E-mail, too. The army’s pretty good at setting up computers, even in the middle of nowhere.”
She hugged her arms like a forlorn child. “It scares me,” she said. “You being a soldier, I mean.”
“I’ll be okay,” I reassured her.
I opened the car door, then reached for my wallet. I slipped the note she scribbled inside, then opened my arms again. She came to me and I held her for a long time, imprinting the feel of her body against mine.
This time, it was she who pulled away. She reached into her handbag again and pulled out an envelope.
“I wrote this for you last night. To give you something to read on the plane. Don’t read it until then, okay?”
I nodded and kissed her one last time, then slipped behind the wheel of the car. I started the car, and as I began to pull away, she called out, “Say hello to your father. Tell him that I might stop by sometime in the next couple of weeks, okay?”
She took a step backward as the car began to roll. I could still see her through the rearview mirror. I thought about stopping. My dad would understand. He knew how much Savannah meant to me, and he would want us to have one last evening together.
But I kept moving, watching her image in the mirror grow smaller and smaller, feeling my dream slip away.
Dinner with my dad was quieter than usual. I didn’t have the energy to attempt a conversation, and even my dad realized it. I sat at the table as he cooked, but instead of focusing on the preparation, he glanced my way every now and then with muted concern in his eyes. I was startled when he turned off the burner and approached me.
When close, he put a hand on my back. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. I knew he understood that I was hurting, and he stood without moving, as if trying to absorb my pain in the hope of taking it from me and making it his own.
In the morning, Dad drove me to the airport and stood beside me at the gate while I waited for my flight to be called. When it was time, I rose. My dad held out his hand; I hugged him instead. His body was rigid, but I didn’t care. “Love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, John.”
“Find some good coins, okay?” I added, pulling back. “I want to hear all about them.”
He glanced at the floor. “I like Savannah,” he said. “She’s a nice girl.”
It came out of the blue, but somehow it was exactly what I wanted to hear.
On the plane, I sat with the letter Savannah had written me, holding it