Read Online Dear Soldier Boy by Maxwell Tibor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maxwell Tibor
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Anyway, I walked down to the mall and prepped myself for the race. I had my headphones in, and my playlist cued up and ready. I scanned the crowd and Mark appeared in front of me. (Mark is the guy whom I work with on the project I have mentioned, in case you forgot). Anyway, this was a huge surprise. I had no idea he was going to be participating in the race. Apparently, he does every year. He likes to run. He had signed up for the 10k, but he stuck with me instead of finishing his own race. I’ve never run with anyone before, and it was an interesting experience, to say the least. Mark cheered me on and tried to help me pick up my pace to improve my finishing time. And I did. I dropped five minutes from my last race in November (the Turkey Trot). This was huge. I was so excited to make it to the end. Cupid rushed up and kissed me, and then Mark did too. It was nice. Sweet, even. He then asked if I had any plans and if he could walk me home, and I said, “Sure.”
Imagine my surprise when I saw your bouquet of twenty-four roses and chocolates waiting promptly for me on my doorstep. Mrs. McQueen said she had signed for them. She’s always been a lovely neighbor. She asked if Mark was the sender, and his face turned a light shade of red, probably matching my own. I’m sure Mrs. McQueen thinks I’m some sort of harlot for having another man walk me home and receiving flowers from someone else. But how was I to know? I hadn’t heard from you in weeks.
After Mrs. McQueen went back inside her house, Mark asked if I wanted to go to dinner “just as friends”. Again, I said, “Sure,” because why not? He's a nice guy, and I didn’t have any other plans for the day. The race had been it for me.
Mark left, and I went inside and smelled the roses. Literally, I stopped and smelled every single one of them. I was sick. I’ve never felt so nauseated in my life. No, it wasn’t from the race and over doing it. It was because of you. Everything about you rips at my heart. I know you’re close to 7,000 miles away from me and living eight hours in the future. Yet, somehow, you made it possible to have roses and chocolate sent to me on Valentine’s Day. I thought this whatever-it-is was over, and it’s not. I truly thought you had given up on the idea of us, and then you show up with this grand gesture, and my heart is aching. I wish I could reach through the computer to touch you and feel you. I want to run my hands through your hair, and I don’t even know what it really looks like. I’m assuming similar to the sandy blond hair you had as child. But I want to touch you. I want to smell you. And I want to hear you. I wish so much that you were here right now with me in my bed. I wouldn’t even try to do anything to you. I would just want to be in your arms. I’d even take being in the same room as you and listening to you breathe. I would be happy with the idea of watching you sleep. Even if it was some wild universe where I was only able to see you while you were sleeping, I would take it. Any of it. What you are to me is more than I’ve ever been able to contemplate or wrap my head around. I know the idea of us seems far-fetched, but the idea of not-us seems like a horrible place where I don’t want to be.
The moment with Mark at the race was fun, and maybe for that brief moment in time, it might have led to something else. But now it’s gone. There is no turning back. My heart will forever be with you, no matter what.
Now, to answer your question, as I did rush and check my email after Mark left tonight. We went to dinner at Founding Farmers. It’s casual, which was perfect for a “just friends” outing. Mark asked me about you and our relationship. I told him how it began and how much you mean to me. He wanted to know your last name and rank. He asked me several times but I didn’t want him to know. I’m not sure why. Was it because of my job? Or was it because I didn’t want the possibility of him being
Imagine my surprise when I saw your bouquet of twenty-four roses and chocolates waiting promptly for me on my doorstep. Mrs. McQueen said she had signed for them. She’s always been a lovely neighbor. She asked if Mark was the sender, and his face turned a light shade of red, probably matching my own. I’m sure Mrs. McQueen thinks I’m some sort of harlot for having another man walk me home and receiving flowers from someone else. But how was I to know? I hadn’t heard from you in weeks.
After Mrs. McQueen went back inside her house, Mark asked if I wanted to go to dinner “just as friends”. Again, I said, “Sure,” because why not? He's a nice guy, and I didn’t have any other plans for the day. The race had been it for me.
Mark left, and I went inside and smelled the roses. Literally, I stopped and smelled every single one of them. I was sick. I’ve never felt so nauseated in my life. No, it wasn’t from the race and over doing it. It was because of you. Everything about you rips at my heart. I know you’re close to 7,000 miles away from me and living eight hours in the future. Yet, somehow, you made it possible to have roses and chocolate sent to me on Valentine’s Day. I thought this whatever-it-is was over, and it’s not. I truly thought you had given up on the idea of us, and then you show up with this grand gesture, and my heart is aching. I wish I could reach through the computer to touch you and feel you. I want to run my hands through your hair, and I don’t even know what it really looks like. I’m assuming similar to the sandy blond hair you had as child. But I want to touch you. I want to smell you. And I want to hear you. I wish so much that you were here right now with me in my bed. I wouldn’t even try to do anything to you. I would just want to be in your arms. I’d even take being in the same room as you and listening to you breathe. I would be happy with the idea of watching you sleep. Even if it was some wild universe where I was only able to see you while you were sleeping, I would take it. Any of it. What you are to me is more than I’ve ever been able to contemplate or wrap my head around. I know the idea of us seems far-fetched, but the idea of not-us seems like a horrible place where I don’t want to be.
The moment with Mark at the race was fun, and maybe for that brief moment in time, it might have led to something else. But now it’s gone. There is no turning back. My heart will forever be with you, no matter what.
Now, to answer your question, as I did rush and check my email after Mark left tonight. We went to dinner at Founding Farmers. It’s casual, which was perfect for a “just friends” outing. Mark asked me about you and our relationship. I told him how it began and how much you mean to me. He wanted to know your last name and rank. He asked me several times but I didn’t want him to know. I’m not sure why. Was it because of my job? Or was it because I didn’t want the possibility of him being
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