The Perfect Wife

A Freed Soldier.

Margo managed to get off the bathroom floor and pull herself together just in time to start making dinner. Once the casserole that Linda prepped for her was in the oven she decided to pass the time by writing a letter to her father and husband back home. She sat there with a piece of paper under her arm and a pen in her hand. Not sure where to start, she began to write whatever came to your mind.

Dear Father,

I am sitting here with a blank sheet of paper and not enough ink to express my love for you. I miss you terribly but it's important for me to know that you will be okay without me in your life. I am not hurt nor am I being hurt. I am being fed and allowed outside. My living conditions aren't poor and I am allowed to send two letters out a week to you and Harvey. I should have you know our letters are monitored and if we break any rules than we won't be allowed to communicate. I love you dad, more than words can express. Please take care of yourself and be strong. I love you.

Your daughter, Margo.

Tears were dropping one by one on the envelope as she sealed it closed, thinking it would be too much to write one for Harvey right now she decided to write his before bed tonight.

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After dinner that night, Mark plopped himself down in the living room and read his favourite book before bed, A Freed soldier, Margo decided to run herself a hot bath so she could relax. She found it hard to keep herself from crying, that seemed to be all she was doing lately. She didn't know how she was going to adapt to this life, or if she would be able to at all. All she knew was she was able to write home and to her husband and that gave her great comfort. After half an hour in the bath, she put her pink house coat on and walked to the bedroom. Mark couldn't help but notice her quick little jaunt passed him, it made him smile. He was beginning to feel like a real married couple.

Margo heard a quiet knock on the door as she slipped into one of her slick black night gowns, it hung just above her knees and was something she wasn't use to wearing.

"Come in." She said as she climbed on the bed.

"It's just me, I'm coming to grab my PJS." He said as he slipped into the bedroom closet to grab matching blue shirt and PJ pants. "Listen, I was going to ask you something?.. My back has been kind of hurting from sleeping on the couch these past couple nights and I wanted to know if it would be okay if I slept on the bed.. Next to you"

Margo was silent for a few seconds, she didn't know what to say.

"We don't have to... Do anything?" She asked quietly.

"Of course not, I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do... I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked, it's too soon, I'll sleep on the couch." He quickly grabbed his PJS snd headed to the door.

"No! Wait.. You can stay. I wouldn't mind having someone to talk to.. It gets kinda lonely at nights. But as long as it's just talking..." She moved to the left side of the bed and crawled under the covers.

"Are you sure? If your uncomfortable at all about it, I wouldn't mind-" he couldn't finish his sentence before she cut him off.

"Just get in the bed Mark." She smiled.

"Smiling looks good on you." He said as he climbed into bed. "So, talking hey?"

"Yep." She lightly laughed. "What's your favourite colour?" She asked.

"Blue. Yours?" He asked back.

"Purple. Or black."

"Blacks not a colour." He teased.

"That's what my father always use to say." She said sadly.

"Tell me about him?" Mark asked, he was intrigued to find out more about his wife.

She didn't know where to start or how she would talk about her father without crying. She decided to start with a story.

"When I was nine, I wanted to be a writer just like him. So he told me to write a story about anything and everything. So I did. I wrote a story about a horse and this big adventure he went on.." She was smiling now thinking about it. "Well I gave it to my dad and he loved it. He loved it so much he had it bound and made into a book. He told me he got his publisher to publish it and every week he would give me money my "book" earned. We did this just up until I was...." She couldn't say the word, it was all to real to her.

"He sounds like an amazing man, Margo. I didn't know he was an author." He wanted to lighten the mood for them. "What's his name?"

"John Freed." She whispered.

"That name sounds so..familiar.." He couldn't remember where he heard that name before.

"Johns a pretty common name.. I don't know.." She was just as confused as Mark was.

Suddenly it him, he jumped out of bed and ran to the living room where his favourite book was laying on the coffee table. In a few seconds he was back in bed and facing Margo.

Margo glanced down at the book and recognized the cover, she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Oh my god. Where did you get that?" She asked shocked.

"I found it in a box of stuff that was confiscated from people around here. I love it, I've read it hundreds of times." He said excited.

Margo grabbed the book and flipped three the pages, she never thought she would see one of her fathers books here.

"It's about my grandfather, he was a soldier." She smiled.

"No way, your grandpa is George freed? That's amazing Margo." He couldn't believe this weird connection they just discovered. "I work with a guy who leaves this place once a week to deliver the mail being sent out, I could ask him to pick up some more of your dads books? I'd love to read more of them."

"That would be perfect! You wouldn't mind?" She asked.

"Not at all. This could be our, thing.. Something we can.. I don't know.. Bond over." He was beginning to get shy.

"Sounds good." She smiled, she felt happy for once. "Our own little private book club?" She smiled.

"Yes, that's what we will call it." He grinned, he loved looking into her eyes.

The two sat up all night talking about everything and anything and it wasn't till around 3 AM that they both had fallen asleep in each other's arms.