Chapter 7
SEVEN
Elle
THE RESTROOM STALL AT DRIPTINI’S—Pensacola’s first boozy coffee shop—was the only place I could hide long enough to read Jesse’s letters during my shifts.
On my way out this morning, I’d found three waiting for me in the mailbox, which I checked as if I were addicted to the white metal box. Thankfully, it was affixed to the front door of our apartment. Meaning I didn’t have to go far to get my fix.
I studied human behavior and, more specifically, addiction.
That meant my need for the reassurance his letters delivered was evident to me.
Slightly concerning, truthfully. I didn’t enjoy relying on another person for emotional regulation, but the nature of long-distance relationships guaranteed it.
The miles between us were only temporary.
My self-reliance would return—I was sure of it.
My fourth shift of the week, slinging caffeine, was catching up to me. I knew because when I grabbed the string of my uniform apron to prevent it from falling into the toilet as I sat, I completely missed it.
Even though I worked the caffeine-infused coffee morning shifts instead of the alcohol-infused afternoon ones, they still stole my time away from what I craved most—writing to and reading letters from Jesse.
I exhaled, clearing the autopilot headspace I reserved for work, and moved into supportive-girlfriend mode—at least briefly, before my boss came looking for me.
Excitement fueled my fingertips as they tore across the top of the first envelope, inviting Jesse’s words into the half of my heart that was still with me.
Jenkins, Jesse
Division 28
Elle,
I still haven’t gotten a letter from you yet, but I know there’s a delay because you couldn’t send anything until my first letter with the return address reached you.
Only a few of the other guys have received letters so far.
I sure hope you haven’t forgotten about me already. Could you ever?! The answer is NO!
Today was literal hell. We were screamed at for oversleeping and ordered to scrub the toilets with a toothbrush. The toilets in our division are lined up in a row, and let me tell you, each one got the scrub of its life.
Someone found a bag of potato chips taped to the underside of one of the toilet seats—I think to save it as a midnight snack. I can’t decide if that’s brilliant or disgusting. It was sealed after all … but I don’t think I could eat a snack that my bunkmates’ bare asses had been next to.
People do crazy things to satisfy their cravings. What I wouldn’t do to satisfy mine …
Please include some stamps, paper, and envelopes with one of your next letters, if possible.
They only give you a certain amount here, and I want to make sure I don’t run out—that’s no excuse for not writing to you!
We occasionally go to the store here on base and get supplies when permitted, but we don’t have much money besides what comes in our paychecks.
The money from our first few checks is used to buy our uniforms, shoes, socks, and tighty-whities.
Yes, we have to wear tighty-fucking-whities.
You would laugh at me so hard, but I think I look decent in them. I know your mom would agree!
I wish you could see my buzz cut. Not to toot my own horn, but I think you’d dig it. However, I don’t think you would dig how pale and clammy my skin has become, how busted my knuckles are, or how chapped my lips look from the blistering cold weather here. I feel like I’m in bloody Siberia.
I had a medical exam yesterday and found out that I’m going to have to get both of my lower wisdom teeth removed. I’m freaking out about it! I’m sure whatever letter you get after that experience will be one for the books. You know I’m a total pussy when it comes to dental shit.
I’ll be proud of myself when this is over and my career begins, but it all still feels like a big shock.
Please know that I love you. I can’t lie—I’m freaked out by how different life is here, but I love you.
Do you think this was a mistake though? Joining the Navy against my parents’ wishes?
How else did they expect me to pay for my last semesters of college?
I’d rather spend four years scrubbing toilets than start my life drowning in debt.
Yes, it sucks, being away from you, but at least you have Ruthie to keep you busy, and there’s so much keeping me busy here that I hardly have time to care about what anyone thinks of the choice I made.
Sidenote: I can’t stop thinking about our night on the beach. I didn’t have much extra time to write today. Expect my words to have a little extra “spice” when I do.
I hope I get a letter from you soon. I can’t wait.
Sleep sweet.
Jesse
He’d better get my letters soon. I didn’t want him to start thinking something was wrong. I reassured myself that I’d mailed at least five out in the last few weeks. They’d get there when they got there.
Stamps were expensive and the only thing I spent spare money on.
I stashed the rest of my paychecks for my upcoming travel expenses.
The whole ordeal would cost me an arm and a leg, but it didn’t matter.
He was worth the extra shifts. And I certainly wasn’t taking him up on his offer to ask his parents for help.
They had chosen not to support their own son’s decision. Why the hell would they support me?
Half of the smile that snuck across my face was because Jesse sounded like himself. The other half was because getting myself off to a dirty letter sounded … intriguing.
Perhaps he can make me come after all … I thought, my shoulders shrugging at the potential for sexual growth within our words.
Sliding the letter I’d just inhaled under the stack, I moved on to the second, thankful our time together wasn’t over yet.
Jenkins, Jesse
Division 28
Elle,
I just opened MULTIPLE letters from you, and I can’t tell you how happy I am right now!
First off, that picture of you. Goddamn, it made my fucking day. You’re so hot. That tank top is barely holding on—kind of like me when I saw it.
I promise you, babe, when you come up for graduation weekend, it’s going down. I hope you’re ready because I’m coming for you …
Can I make a request though? Will you bring that red lingerie you wore for me over Christmas break? I can’t stop thinking about it. That image is single-handedly fueling my desire to graduate. I love it when you wear sexy getups just for me. It makes me feel like a man.
On another much less horny note, I’m happy to hear classes and work are going well for you.
But I could have guessed that. If I know my girl, she’s passing her time without me by rewatching Twilight for the millionth time and jamming out to Jewel.
I know you’ve always had a thing for that sparkly son of a bitch.
But does Edward really have shit on me? Because Bella definitely can’t compete with you. Rosalie maybe …
Kidding!
This letter will be a quick one. We’re supposed to study lessons from class today, but I’m sneakily writing to you instead.
All I want to do is talk to you. You’re my escape from this testosterone-packed prison.
They separate the men and women here like they’re allergic to each other. I wanted you to know that.
Also, my wisdom teeth removal is scheduled for three days from now. I’m stressed about it. I’ll keep you posted, babe.
Sleep sweet.
Jesse
So many words to focus on.
Knowing I only had a few more minutes of peace before returning to the register, I quickly sifted to the final letter in the pile, promising to reread them all later with the attention they deserved.
Jenkins, Jesse
Division 28
Elle,
The good news is that they allow four days of rest and recovery in bed after any medical procedure. That’s the most I’ve been allowed since arriving, and I fully plan on using every second to my advantage! This means I now have more time to write to you!
Bad news … I’m so swollen—way worse than that time I got stung on the chin by that yellow jacket. And I can only drink smoothies and milkshakes.
Isn’t that a plus, you might ask?
NO, it isn’t because the food here is literal trash, and I’m thinking they really might put saltpeter in it.
I haven’t popped one lousy boner since I got here, and that’s not like me.
Usually, all it takes is me thinking about you, and my dick is standing at attention, but, no, thinking of you now is pure torture with no release in sight.
These thoughts in my head need an outlet …
Let’s just say I miss you and leave it at that.
What has your release been since I left? Do you touch yourself when you think of me, Elle? Maybe you can use your psychology major insight to help me get hard from your next letter. I’m so desperate that it hurts. SEND HELP!
Anyway, I’m hitting the hay. I have a busy day of resting in bed ahead of me. I’ve never been so excited in my life to do absolutely nothing. It’s a welcome break from the demanding schedule here. I swear, these big bad instructors have something to prove.
Sleep sweet.
Jesse
My boyfriend’s touch remained trapped in the pages resting in my hands. I finished the third one quicker than the rest, meaning the wait for another started all over again.
Talk about whiplash.
I wished his words could touch me, whisper in my ear what I yearned to hear, and kiss my bare shoulder in a way that said, I love you and will never let something as insignificant as distance impact our future together.
But they couldn’t because none of the letters had mentioned our future together.
Was he staying surface level on purpose? After all, he was going through a massive change and needed to stay focused. I understood that.
I retreated from the restroom stall, tucked my paper trail into the back pocket of my jeans, and approached the sink, surrounded by trendy checkered wallpaper and tasteful graffiti. The girl in the gold-rimmed mirror staring back at me looked drained. Her usual optimistic expression was missing.
So was her man.
I hoped the cold water I splashed against my face would counteract the extra time I’d put into everything except myself lately.
It barely made a difference.
His letters told me he believed in us. His dedication to writing them told me he missed me.
But seeing that dedication in action on March 31 was the only thing that could pull me out of my head and into his arms.