If You're Reading This...

I would never tell anyone else this while I still had breath in my body but this war has broken me, something has snapped and now anger is instinctive, and it's a cold and calculating fury that knows neither friend nor foe, just survival at all costs. And a part of me loves being like that. A small part of it showed when I lost control at Nikki that night you and her argued on the beach and she pushed you over. I saw her hurt you and instead of helping you up I took her down just like soldiers are trained to do. I will never forget how you wore the same look of terror that I have seen on so many faces here. And I refuse to bring Afghanistan home to the very people I'm supposed to protect. I would rather die out here rather than bring that fear and hurt back to your face.

But then we had this contact the other day. And Liam died. He died and they want to give me a medal for what I did. I did everything I could but he died anyway and all that was left to do was rewrite the letter he left for his fiancé so she doesn't have to remember him through blood on a page. And when I rewrote that letter I realized you were waiting for a knock on the door or a call from someone else to say I wouldn't be coming home. Or waiting for me to come home so full of anger and hate. Waiting for me to come home and feel as if I didn't deserve to be happy. To come back but avoid you for fear of losing that edge of instant anger and reaction that keeps me alive here.

But I also realized that you were also waiting, every day, for a letter from me, or a call to say I was alive, that I'd be home soon. That you were hoping when I did make it back I could find a sliver of peace for myself, where I wouldn't have to be angry all the time, a place where growing old would be fine and there was no glory in dying a young hero. A place where I'd let you strip away this uniform and love me despite the scars and the memories that draft blueprints for my nightmares and wake me screaming in the night. I realized you were waiting to give me something to live for rather than to leave me searching for something to die for.

You never knew what would happen, but still you waited. I knew then that I was just hurting us both – in a different way I'd bought Afghanistan back home with me anyway.

So if you're reading this there's really only one thing left to say:

I love you.

I'm sorry you had to read it on the only tattered piece of paper I could find, written in a pen I had to steal, when you deserved to have it whispered to you softly as a blanket protected us from the night chill, have it yelled over the thunder of a storm as we stood dripping from a dash through the rain, have it written in the blank spaces of beach between the rolling waves and have it signed at the end of every message I wrote instead of 'goodbye'. It should have been our vow. Just like it felt like a pledge every time it passed through my mind. And it did many times, so many times. Those are moments I will never forget.

I'm sorry I failed to kiss you goodbye, that I didn't give you that one moment to let you know I felt the same. I'm sorry I didn't reply to your letters. It's no excuse but I felt like I had nothing to say - I don't know how I can write about the things I see and do, the choices I have made, and still expect you to love me. The fact that you never stopped waiting and never stopped writing through my silence breaks my heart. All I can say now is thank you for never faltering, for your everlasting patience with me.

Thank you and I'm sorry I ran out of time. I'm so sorry for that.

But that knock on the door or that call has come, and you're still here. You got through it. And then you found the strength to read this far. You'll find the strength to mourn, to remember the good times rather than the bad, to smile rather than cry at my memory. You'll find the strength to laugh at an old picture of us too, so I'm giving you my favorite one - that picture of us at the beach party just before I left. It's kind of battered because I carried it everywhere I went over here, but I have told mum to give it to you when the Army returns my stuff to her.

I've told her to give you some of my ashes too; it may not seem like it now but you will be happy again, trust me. So scatter them somewhere you can visit me occasionally to tell me about the woman you end up marrying and the kids you have together, or about whatever other happiness you find in the future.

Live well. Love again. Find someone I'd love to hate because they make you so much happier than I ever could. But remember me occasionally and smile.

I love you,

Your Matts.

*

Matti drifted off in a light doze, the sweat on her body cooling and taking the edge off the stuffy heat of the gym that enveloped them. Savannah watched as her breathing leveled out and then just watched the features of the sleeping woman beside her. Her mind was strangely clear of the tension, confusion and fear. Something small had replaced them, as she lay and stared at the small rise and fall of Matti's chest she realized it was a small touch of hope. She pushed it away, but a small smile played over her lips as her eyes drifted to Matti's shirt that lay sprawled across the floor above her head and she reached up for it with a mild curiosity.

The material dragged across the floor, weighted down by the medals, and Savannah lifted the gleaming row of metal closer to her face, running her fingers over them, examining them one by one. Finally she laid them down, no wiser to the story they told than she had been before. It was then that she noticed the stiff piece of paper in the breast pocket. She unbuttoned the flap and pulled the object free, unfolding a manila envelope faded and stained with dirt of various colors, one corner dog-eared with creases crisscrossing the paper. Her name was scrawled across the middle in Matti's blocked handwriting, the ink faded and smudged slightly. The dirt and disrepair carried a sense of importance, as if it were irreplaceable so the wear and tear would have to be tolerated. She stared for a long moment.

Suddenly her phone rang, vibrating in the pocket of the shorts they had discarded earlier. She leapt up, hoping to stop it before it woke Matti but by the time she had reached it Matti had bolted up.

Matti looked at her, taking in the slump in Savannah's shoulders, "Nikki?"

Savannah nodded, lowering the hand that held the envelope out of sight, "Yeah, that was Nikki calling. Matts..." she paused, feeling the distance open up between them again. and a sickening sense of dread sank through her and she turned her eyes away, "Matti, I have to go. I can't deal with this now. I have to go home."