Love Letter

Be Mine.....

June 8th....

Tom, dearest Tom.

I'm sorry I haven't written before now.  I should really have done it much, much sooner. The thing is.... well, the thing is.... Oh shit Tom.... I can't....

June 9th....

Sorry about that. It got a bit real again.

The thing is, I had another scan. They've told me it's time. I need urgent surgery and chemo, and it might not work, and there's so much I still want to say and do and be.

Sorry, fear is no excuse for lazy grammar.

After our conversation, and my trip to the house of horrors, I thought about things.

A lot.

I realised I was too hasty. Too ready to believe my own hype. That I was a burden. That I was a silly hysterical woman. That I was just too much trouble.

Actually? You were just busy. I see now that you weren't brushing me off. I guess, well, I'm just vulnerable.  And it's about to get a whole lot worse.

By the time you come home, I will be in hospital. Getting a really rather large part of my right lung removed. They're going to be kind enough to leave me a serviceable chunk. Contrary to popular belief, breathing is NOT overrated, you know!

Then, to add insult to injury, they're going to make me need a hat. Now, dont get me wrong, I love a hat as much as the next woman.  I just wish I WAS the next woman.  And that the hat was a lovely girlie one that you'd wear to Ascot or a wedding. Not one that covers your ugly bald head that resembles a baby chicken's arse. 

Did you laugh? I hope so. I want you to laugh. So I can imagine that wonderful smile. I just wish I didn't have to imagine. I wish I coukd see it for myself.

Tom, Im really, really, really scared. I try not to be. I try to be brave. Try not to think of what might happen, and when I'm sitting in the consultants office, it doesn't seem real. Its all so dufferent though, when Im lying here at 3 am. In the dark, all alone and terrified? Jesus wept. it's more real than a steamroller on your foot.

I need you, Tom, no matter if it's for 5 minutes a week or a month or just whenever there's a moon in the night sky. I shouldn't have hung up, and for that, I'm truly sorry. You were being kind and I was being an arse. Yes, probably that baby chicken's arse I mentioned before!!

Did yiu like your gift? I hope so. It's a family heirloom... passed down from.... no. Of course it's not hee hee.
I came across it in my bag.  I bought a packet of them on the way to the hospital for my last scan. When I came across it again, it felt like a sign. I promised myself one way or another I'd get it to you.

Maybe one day, you'll look back and smile. Smile, remembering the girl who told awful jokes and quoted poetry at you.  The girl who loved Shakespeare and Marvel. Who sang opera tunes and the theme to Rainbow.

Above all? Just think of me, now and again,? And if you can find it in you to forgive me, maybe we can meet sometime. When you're able.

In the meantime, you and Jonathan Pine will see me through tonight. I do love episode four. There seems to be a pattern of references to arses in this letter. Rather a lot. Oh well.

Goodnight, Jonathan. Or is it Andrew? Or Thomas. You tell me.

Always yours, Ali xxxx

She folded the paper carefully and slipped the little pale green heartshaped sweet into its centre. Popping it into the envelope, she sealed it. Then, in an act of sheer nonsense, she kissed the back of the envelope and smiled, feeling fourteen again.

"Sealed with a loving kiss," she muttered, making herself chuckle. Thank goodness she WAS alone sometimes.

She looked up. Six o'clock. In the morning.  The taxi would be here shortly.  The one taking her to the hospital. She could post this on the way.  There was no real rush, after all.

Tom wouldn't get this for a long, long time.  He was in San Diego until the end of the month.

The end of the month.  It sounded far away.  Too far away. Sighing, she placed her coat on the little case in the hall.  Six ten.  Time was going so slowly.

As she waited for the taxi, the sun rose.  Another beautiful day in the offing.

She only hoped she would share one with Tom. She only hoped she would see one at home again at all.   As she looked out the window into the pale dawn, her eye was caught by a flash in the sky.

A shooting star, still faintly visible in the receeding dark. She closed her eyes and made a wish. 

After all, if a dream is a wish your heart makes, then a wish must be a dream made real. 

And Tom was so very real.