Claire dried her hands on her apron and sat down at the kitchen table to sip a second cup of morning coffee. She had fed her husband, Phillip, and done the dishes, let the cat out and ironed a shirt while he showered. He had left for work now and she was finally alone.
"Alone," she said aloud, and smiled at the irony of it. Claire was alone even when her husband was home. In fact she felt more alone then.
Phillip, her husband of 19 years, was a good man but she had never felt emotionally connected to him. He wasn't to blame. If anything, she was. She knew on their wedding day that she wasn't in love with Phillip. He'd come along at a time when she needed to be loved. She had fooled herself into thinking he was the one. You don't back out on your wedding day, though. She told herself that she would grow to love her husband. And in a way, she did - at least in the way you learn to love the familiar.
Claire knew the difference, though. She'd been in love once - only once -- but it was enough to let her know what real love felt like. And it wasn't what she and Phillip had.
Claire sighed as she fingered the blue willow coffee cup and thought about Andrew. She used to think about him all the time - wondering where he was and what he was doing; wondering if he had ever married and if he had kids. But after almost twenty years, even true love fades, she supposed. It had been months since she thought of her high school sweetheart.
Andrew had been the only boy she had ever been with before she married Phillip. He was one of the popular kids -- a senior -- and Claire could hardly believe it when he asked her out the first time. They'd gone together her whole junior year before he joined the Navy and went off to San Diego. She was pregnant at the time and frightened, but he had sworn his undying love and promised that they would be married when he finished basic training - before the baby would be born.
Claire put her hand on her stomach to feel the memory. Their baby was not to be, though. She miscarried before Andrew was gone a month. Claire wondered how different life would have been if she had not lost the baby. Would Andrew be her husband now? Would they be happy? She'd written him as soon as she miscarried, knowing he would be as relieved as she was. They would have had a difficult time raising a baby when they were barely out of high school. Now they would be able to start their lives together the way a couple should.
Andrew had called when he got her letter. He'd been so happy that they lost their baby that it had made Claire cry. Then they argued when he said that maybe they should wait just a while longer before they married - "now that there's no rush."
That was the last time she talked to Andrew. There were no more letters. She had cried herself to sleep for two months and met the mailman every morning, hoping that there was an explanation. It was as if Andrew simply forgot about Claire and the life they had dreamed about. Her mother meant well, but she made it worse. She told her that most boys take what they are offered and find their promises easy to forget when they move away.
She wished her mother hadn't found out about the pregnancy when Claire miscarried. It provided an easy explanation for Andrew's rejection when she was still trying to hold onto some hope. Finally, though, she had to accept that Andrew had chosen to go on with his life without her. Claire's heart had been broken but she went on with her life, too.
That was about the time she met Phillip. He was older, already out of high school. Her friend, Lisa, had arranged a blind date to get Claire into the swim again. He had a good job at Heifer's Electronics and was ready to settle down. She found out later that she was his first girl friend. It wasn't hard to believe. Phillip had been shy and tongue-tied around girls, but he seemed crazy about Claire, and she liked him. When he asked her to marry him after they had gone together for only three months, she couldn't think of a reason to say no.
Andrew had called the house once after Claire was engaged, when only her mother was home. He was being shipped overseas. Andrew asked her to convey his wishes for Claire's happiness.
Claire was glad she hadn't been home. She was afraid she might have cried again. It was better that Andrew thought she was blissfully in love with someone else. The call had stirred up some strong feelings, though, and she almost called off the engagement because it didn't seem right to marry someone else while she still loved Andrew. But Phillip was so full of plans for their life together - it would have broken his heart and she did care for him. Her broken heart was more than enough. She knew she was committed to making their marriage work, even if the romance fell short of Hollywood.
And it had worked out okay. They lived in a nice neighborhood and raised two fine boys who were both in college - a lot more than many people can say. But when she thought back on all those years, she couldn't remember a single time when she had looked into Phillip's eyes and felt that they were on the same wavelength. If she hadn't remembered her love for Andrew, she would have thought that what she had with Phillip was just the way it was between a man and a woman. But having once tasted real love, she had been lonely for the last nineteen year, even with two growing children in the house. And now that they were away at school, she was desolate.
Claire reminded herself that few people have perfect lives as she rose to take the cup to the sink. Odd that she would choose this morning to get sentimental about a lost love. She looked out the kitchen window as she rinsed the cup and saw the mail truck slowing to a stop at the curb. She watched the postman put a manila envelope in their box.
Claire dried the cup and took her apron off to go collect the morning mail. She walked down the driveway, opened the mailbox, and took out the manila envelope. The return address was from the house in which she was raised. The last time she had been back to Crawfordville she had driven by the old place and saw strangers planting marigolds in the front flowerbed. She opened the envelope wondering what business they might have with her. Inside was a piece of typing paper folded around a smaller envelope. Written in pencil on the outside of the paper were the words, "I had a hard time locating you, but thank goodness your aunt still lives in town. It isn't everyday a person receives a letter that is delivered twenty years late."
Claire held her breath as she unfolded the paper, revealing a yellowed envelope with a 1981 San Diego postmark. The handwriting was Andrew's. She stared at it in disbelief. While she had been thinking of Andrew this morning, his letter had been making its way down Parker Road toward her. Her amazement at the coincidence faded as she considered the significance of this piece of mail. Andrew had written her after all. He must have mailed it soon after their last phone call. She slowly loosened the seal, not wanting to damage this precious symbol of what might have been, and extracted a folded piece of paper. Claire read Andrew's words.
My dearest Claire,
I have not been able to think of anything since talking with you yesterday. I know I hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I know I said some stupid things. You have to know I love you, though. I guess I could understand it if you never wanted to talk with me again. I know I was insensitive, but I'm begging you to forgive me. I can't bear to think of my life without you. I don't blame you for getting angry. I was thinking of myself, not you. When you said you weren't pregnant anymore, all I could think of was how much easier it will be for us to not have all the expenses of a baby when we first get married. I want us to have children - maybe three or four, but when I can pay the bills. When I suggested we wait a little bit to get married, I was thinking I'd get more time off so we could have a proper honeymoon if we waited a few months. I tried to explain, but by then you were so hurt and angry. I said everything wrong and now I'm afraid you won't let me make it all up to you. I love you more than anything in life. Please, Claire, write me, and soon, so I can breathe again. Don't let this be the end of us.
All my love forever, Andrew.
When Claire went back in the house she sat on the sofa and let the tears flow freely with the letter clasped to her breast. She read it several times over the next week with her morning coffee and cried each time. Then, drying her eyes, she took the letter to her bedroom closet and tucked it away in the shoebox where she kept the past.
The End