Page 22 of Returned Mail

Just work, sleep, and repeat.

I finished that book you bought me. It was okay.

Dinner was Chinese takeout.

Love you,

Monica

I read the email after sending it.

It's awful. It’s flat, cold...

But I don't know how to explain what's happening. How every day feels heavier than the one before. How I wake up already tired. How exhausting it is to be strong all the time. So I don't explain it.

I just survive.

By week seven, George notices.

From: George

Subject: You

Are you okay?

And don't give me the “I'm fine” answer.

The real answer.

You seem different lately.

Love you,

George

I read it three times, then close my laptop. I don't know how to answer. The truth sounds awful, selfish. It sounds like betrayal. The truth is, I'm tired of this life, but I tell myself I'm not tired of George.

Most days, I believe it.

I'm tired of the deployments. The goodbyes. The loneliness. The constant uncertainty. The endless cycle. I knew what I was signing up for. That's what military partners are supposed to say, right? I knew. I chose this. I said yes when he proposed, knowing exactly what his career meant. Knowing the uniform came with a price tag.

But nobody tells you that knowing doesn't make it easier.

My phone chimes while I'm brushing my teeth that night. I know it's him before I look. For the first time since he left, I don't reach for it immediately.

I finish brushing, rinse my mouth, wipe the counter, then I pick up the phone. The email is still there, waiting. So is the guilt.

I reply two days later.

From: Monica

To: George

Re: You

Just tired.

Work has been a lot.