“Before what?”
He couldn’t say it.
He didn’t need to.
My hand moved toward the envelope and stopped.
“What is this?”
“He gave it to me.”
“Why?”
Walter’s voice cracked.
“He said if he didn’t come back, I had to bring it to you.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve had this for fifty-five years?”
“Yes.”
My voice rose.
“You had a letter from Thomas for me?”
“Yes.”
“All this time?”
Walter closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Something inside me broke.
I slapped the table so hard the jewelry box jumped.Education
“How could you?”
Walter didn’t defend himself.
“How could you live across the street from me with this?”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
My voice cracked.
“You don’t know.”
I grabbed the envelope.
“I wondered if he was scared.”
Walter’s eyes filled.
“I wondered if he called for his mother.”
I was crying now.
“I wondered if he remembered me.”
“He did.”
“You let me wonder.”
“I did.”
I hated how quietly he said it.
No excuse.
No argument.
Just the truth.
“You could’ve mailed it.”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve left it in my mailbox twenty-eight years ago.”
“Yes.”
“You could’ve knocked on my door once.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Walter stared down at his hands.
“When I came home, I wasn’t right.”
I said nothing.
“I was twenty-three.”
His voice was low.
“I barely slept.”Birthdays & Name Days
He swallowed.
“Thomas had asked whoever made it home to do two things.”
I looked at the ring.
Walter nodded.
“Give you the letter.”
“And?”
“Buy you the ring he never got to buy.”
My chest tightened.
Walter continued.
“I didn’t have the money.”
“So you waited?”
“At first.”
“How long?”
“Too long.”
“What happened?”
“I got a job.”
He looked ashamed.
“Then I had enough money.”
“And still didn’t come.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because by then, I was afraid.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Afraid of what?”
“Your grief.”
I stared at him.
“Mine?”
“And mine.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Every time I thought about knocking on your door, I saw Thomas.”
His voice broke.
“I was alive.”
I went still.Gems & Jewelry
“He wasn’t.”
Walter looked at me.
“That mattered more than I knew how to explain.”
Survivor’s guilt.
I knew the phrase.
I had read about it.
I had helped veterans find books about it at the library.
