Myra

It’s been 55 years since I’ve graduated high school and moved to Paris, France. I picked up the accent, but I can still speak clear English. That was also the last day I saw my high school boyfriend. We were voted the most likely to get married in five years. That was until my mom died and my dad had to get a new job across the Atlantic. There was not a day that passed where I had not thought about him. There wasn’t Facetime or iMessage back then, so we had to write each other. Unbelieveable right! It took about a month and a couple of weeks to receive word from one another. We stopped writing about 20 years ago. I’m now 73 years old and I still think about him. I never married because I was planning to marry him. I tried to date, (obviously what kind of 19 year old wouldn’t want to date) but it didn’t work out well. After a while I gave up. I thought what was the point if nothing good was ever going to happen to me … after him.

***

Melvin

I’ve always wondered if she thinks about me, the way I think of her. It’s been way too long since I last saw her. She was my one and only love. We always wrote to each other. Then I got married, so my wife told me I had to stop. I never loved my ex-wife the way I loved her. I had my mind set on marrying her and spending the rest of our lives together. Her dad got a job working as a language teacher, so basically he taught English. The worst part about it was that his job was in Paris. She told me she was moving the day we graduated. I was mad at her for not telling me earlier. I forgave her because she was leaving soon. Instead of prom, we went back to her house and I helped her pack. Afterwards, we went to watch a film on the roof and spent the rest of the night together. I had her in my hands and cried together in the rain with her favorite umbrella, because it wasn’t until then I realized…it was over.

***

Myra

My dad died. I was expecting his death because he was very old. He wasn’t sick; he lived the most healthiest lifestyle I’d ever seen. He worked out until he couldn’t. He ate like an athlete everyday no matter what occasion or holiday. He had the healthiest and the most kindest heart ever. Every day I wake, go to work, eat lunch, and save some for my dad. That was the only thing I looked forward to. Knowing my dad was sitting there waiting for his only child to come and care for him and love him like no other. Unfortunately, I still find myself doing that. Walking the same path and saving half of my sandwich. It was a burden I couldn’t shake. No matter how hungry or tired, I always went to him.  

***

April 19th, 2015

Dear Melvin,

We haven’t talked in awhile. I don’t know if you remember me, but I hope you do. I don’t know what happened to us. We used to be in sync, and now I don’t know what to tell you. How about, I never married. And how I’ve never gotten a letter back from you. And how my dad died. And how I live by myself with two cats and a parrot. And how I still love you. And how I miss you. And how I’ve had other boyfriends. And how they never lasted longer than a couple of years. I hate to say it, but I’m old now. My life isn’t over yet, but it’s close. I hope nothing happened to you. I wouldn’t have anybody. You haven’t sent me a letter back for a while now. I just want to know how drastic our lives changed since we split up. I hope your life turned out better than mine and I hope you write back or I could see you sometime.

 

Yours truly,

Myra Hart

***

April 27th, 2015

Dear Myra,

 

I was divorced five years ago. I have three kids. All of them are grown up now, so they all left me. I stopped writing because my wife didn’t think it was right for me to be writing to my highschool girlfriend at age 70. I always wanted to write back, but I never knew what to say. But now I do. I miss you too and I still love you too. I think about you all the time too. I always thought of going to Paris to visit you, but I never knew if you wanted to see me, so I decided not to. I still want to visit. I’m retired and have no life anymore. And the remains of my life I would like to spend with you. So, i’ve decided to come and visit. If you don’t think it is a good idea please tell me and if you think it’s a great idea please tell me.

 

Yours truly,

Melvin Hunter

***

May 5th, 2015

Dear Melvin

 

I think it’s a great idea. I can’t wait.

***

Myra

My head feels heavy with all these thoughts about him. When are you coming? How long are you going to be here? Are you bringing anyone? How much luggage are you bringing? Do you have anyone to stay with, or are you going to stay with me? What part of Paris will you be in? Are you going to the Eiffel Tower? Are you going to be close — close by any restaurants? There’s a place I go everyday to get a sandwich and it’s close by the Eiffel Tower. They have Croque Monsieur and any kind of chocolate pastry. Do you still like chocolate pastries? Do you still drink your coffee with so much sugar? Do you still take those midday naps? Do you still stay up late, reading?

***

June 29th, 1960

Dear Melvin,

I remember feeling warm when we cried together in the rain. We were under my favorite umbrella. The night before I left. Last night. With your strong arms wrapped around my body. I knew once you wrapped your arms around me that we weren’t going anywhere for a while. I knew that at the moment you wouldn’t let anything happen. I felt like nothing could take me away or do me any harm. I remember the warm salty tears streaming down my face. I remember you being the brave one telling me everything was going to be okay even though we both knew it wasn’t. You wiped my tears, one by one, even though you knew more was coming. I’ve been on the plane for 3 hours so far and I’m going nuts. My dad is four rows in front of me. Next to me is this old couple. Maybe in their mid seventies. They’ve been talking ever since we got on the plane. It’s like they haven’t seen each other for years and are catching up on their lives. In front of me is a lady maybe on a business trip because she is wearing a business suit and is writing the entire time non stop and there is briefcase under her seat. I am surprised because someone that dresses like that belongs in first class.

 

Love,

Myra

***

          June 29th, 1960

Dear Myra,

I miss you already and you’ve been gone about 17 hours now. I remember the night before you left. Last night. It was our final hours actually together, just the two of us. We were on the roof together and it was raining. We were under your favorite umbrella. That was the only one you used because that was the one you and your mother used together. I wrapped my arms around you because I saw the tears forming in your eyes. I knew you were scared because we wouldn’t be able to see each other like we always did. You were scared that we would separate eventually. I wrapped my arms around you because I didn’t want anything to happen to you, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. That’s when I knew the crying started because your body was trembling rapidly. I felt your warm tear fall onto my arm. I wiped away the tears one by one, even though we both knew more was coming.   

 

Love,

Melvin

***

“I missed you,” he spoke when I greeted him at the airport.
“Have you seen my umbrella?”
“No, really. I’ve missed you.”
“I haven’t seen the umbrella since…”
“Since?”
“You know. The last time it rained in North Carolina.”
“Oh you remember that?”
Its was awkward for a while, then I spoke, “Well. Can we get some tea?”