The Card

Fiction

The card was baby pink and had a red heart in the middle of it, with a cursive “I love you” written across the center.  It was the only one left at the gas station counter at 11:37 P.M. so he had no choice but to buy it.  It would be the vehicle that would say what he wanted to say yesterday but couldn’t.  He had to tell her he loved her or he just might die. At least that’s how he felt. Death would be better than letting this crack in the window of their relationship close too quickly. He started writing under the phrase printed on the inside of the card, “it’s how I feel about you”.  He began to put down the words that were his thoughts and couldn’t stop writing.  He had to draw arrows directing her where to read next so that his midnight poetry would make sense to her.  He didn’t leave anything out.  He told her his life meant nothing with out her in it and would make her happy if it required his last breath.  He needed to tell her. She had to know this.  He signed the card with his initials and sealed the envelope, addressed it and then went back into the gas station to buy a stamp then dropped the white envelope into the mailbox slot out front. 

When he got back home, his granddaughter was sitting at the kitchen table crying.  He held her until she stopped.  It had only been a week since her mother, his daughter, had passed away. Her two younger sisters were asleep on the couch.  They were too young to lose sleep over their loss.  He gave her a kiss on the forehead and told her to get some sleep and that things would be better in the morning.  She curled up next to her sisters and closed her eyes.

He climbed the stairs and got into bed, and he too began to cry, for his loss and fear of losing once again in what little life he had left in this world.  Tomorrow would be another day.  A better day.  He hoped, a day closer to loving her.