15. Mia
15
MIA
I can’t believe Theo suggested that. Offering me a share of the profits, as if that would make everything alright. As if my dreams, my plans, my bed and breakfast could be swayed by dollar signs. I feel a fresh surge of anger just thinking about it. How dare he?
I’ve been home for thirty minutes now, showered, and changed, but I still can’t turn my thoughts to something else.
Theo is cute.
No, he’s more than cute. He’s handsome. The thought of him shirtless turns me on, and I don’t want to be turned off unless it’s by him inside me, groaning my name.
I shake my head. I have to stop these thoughts and calm down.
I make a bag of popcorn and pace the kitchen while it’s in the microwave.
I need something to do, something that will take my mind off this whole problem with Theo and my inability to have self-control around him.
I’ve had my eye on the living room. There is a dusty bookshelf with some trashy romance novels on the middle shelf. I need to clean the whole thing, and I think eating popcorn and cleaning sounds like a good way to distract myself.
Maybe I should turn on some music too—loudly so Theo can’t work.
Once my popcorn is ready, I have a few handfuls and settle into the carpet in front of the bookshelf.
I pull the novels off the shelf one by one and set them in a stack of raunchy and maybe appropriate for families. I want my bookshelf to be a safe space for families, so I can’t have someone staying here and their seven-year-old kid picks up a book that uses ten curse words on the first page.
Once the books have been sorted, I move to the bottom shelf. As I move a stack of old photo albums, a small, dusty box catches my eye. It’s tucked away in the back corner of the bookcase, almost hidden from view.
Curious, I pull the box out and open it. Inside, I find a bundle of letters tied together with a faded ribbon. They look old, the edges yellowed with age. I carefully untie the ribbon and pick up the first letter, unfolding it gently.
The handwriting is delicate and elegant, clearly written by someone from another time. As I start to read, I realize these are letters from my grandmother to my grandfather. I had no idea they existed.
Dear Paul,
I miss you more than words can express. Today, I saw a bird. It sat on a branch right in front of me and kept looking at me like it was trying to figure out who I was. Then, it opened its mouth and let out the most beautiful song. It reminded me of you and the way you always whistle. I miss you, and I hope to see you soon.
Love always, Mary
I sit down on the couch, completely absorbed in the letter. My grandmother’s words are filled with so much love.
I remember my grandmother as being the one to always have the best snacks. During the summer, I spent more days over here than at my own house because she lived closer to my friends’ houses. I could bike and play and go down to the beach by myself once I got to be double digits.
But then, I would always come home to my grandmother’s house, and she would listen and feed me and take care of me in a way my parents didn’t have time for.
These notes right here are a glimpse into a part of her life I never knew. I can’t help but think about my own life. What is love really? Is it the passionate, tumultuous relationship Theo and I seem to have? Is it good sex and someone you can talk to? Or is it someone you write letters to just to tell about a bird singing?
I read through another letter.
Dear Paul,
The garden is blooming beautifully this year. I wish you didn’t have to go off to the army, but I know you’re serving our country. I’m glad you can be brave and fight the battles I can’t. Everyone on Oak Island is proud of you. They ask me about you every time I go to the store.
“Have you heard from Paul?”
I tell them I have. I know I write to you much more often than you write to me, but I love your letters. I love you.
Yours forever, Mary
I think about the way Theo looked at me, the way he touched me, especially last night when he was taking my clothes off. There was something real there, something more than just a business proposition. But then, why does he keep pushing this resort idea? Can’t he see that it’s not what I want?
Does he care?
Do we even have enough of a foundation for something stronger to grow from?
I find another letter, this one a bit longer than the others.
Dear Paul,
Life is full of ups and downs, but it’s our love that keeps me going. I discovered I’m pregnant. The baby will be here in five months! I wanted to wait to tell you until you came, but I don’t know when that will be.
I’ve been feeling quite well to be with child, so well that I didn’t even suspect anything until I felt something strange in my abdomen. The doctor can’t believe how far along I am.
I miss you, and I wish you were here. I believe this baby will be the best thing we could ever hope for. No matter what happens, know that I will always love you.
With all my heart, Mary
Tears prick at my eyes as I read. My grandmother’s words are so beautiful, so full of hope and faith in their love. It makes me realize that love isn’t just about the good times, but about dealing with difficulties together.
I couldn’t imagine dealing with a pregnancy on my own, and here my grandmother was, pregnant with my mom. She must have been terrified, but in her letter, only love and excitement came through.
I wonder if she just didn’t want my grandfather to worry, so she kept her worry a secret in her letters.
I think about Theo again. Maybe I’ve been too harsh, too quick to judge his intentions. Maybe he really does believe that the resort is a good idea, not just for him, but for the community. Maybe he sees potential that I’ve been too scared to acknowledge.
I put the letters back in the box and sit there for a moment, lost in thought. What do I really want? Do I want to keep fighting Theo, pushing him away every time he tries to get close? Or do I want to find a way to make things work, even if it means giving up my dream?
Just the idea of giving up the bed and breakfast makes me feel sick. It makes me feel like I’m giving up my dream so Theo can pursue his. I like him, maybe even a lot. But not enough to give up my dream.
If I have to let go of something, maybe that something is Theo.
I walk over to the window and see lights on in the building across the muddy ground that is still healing from yesterday’s flood. Theo must be in there. Is he thinking about me?
As I look out the window, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. My grandmother’s letters have given me a new perspective, a new understanding of what love really means.
I want what my grandmother had. Now, I just have to figure out if that’s something I can have with Theo or not.