Words on Paper

Letter number 14

Dear Gabriel.

Date: 4/3

I told you I liked being pregnant and that I don't mind if this birth is hard and long, but I do. I try to tell myself I'm not scared, but I'm scared out of my wits. I don't want to have this baby, can't it just stay inside of me? I don't want it to come out, ever, I need you to tell me what to do. Please, just tell me what to do. There's only one week left and I'm so freaked. I just want you to hold my hand and tell me it's okay, but you're not here.

It all came crashing down on me last time I went to see the doctor - this Monday. This woman was talking to her husband, I think, and it was their second child because she just kept talking about how badly it hurts to give birth. They were discussing the fact that some people say men couldn't have a baby because it hurts so much, and they just kept discussing it. The woman just wouldn't stop talking about the pain. It was awful. It got me thinking that I don't want to experience something that hurts so much. And worst of all, I was alone. Michelle have come with me for the last appointments, but this time she told me she had a meeting at that time and even though she offered to skip the meeting and escort me, I told her I would be just fine. And I believed it when I said it, I wasn't at all scared of going alone.

But now I just wish I'd never gone to the doctor. Do you think it hurts as much as they say? I've decided to stay away from movies for the next weeks' time because I don't want to get any more scared. Michelle said that probably was a good idea when I called her this morning. She's taking me out tonight on a fancy restaurant that her parents own. I don't know if I should go - I don't want to be out when the waters break. Hannah helped me packing a bag with the things the book said I should bring to the hospital.

I got the package I send you with the last letter back a few days ago, it hadn't been opened. It was just returned to me. So I'm afraid you won't get any of the chocolate and the cake. It was tasty, though. I've baked a new one so I'm sending more cake and more chocolate. I wonder where you are right now since you couldn't get the package. And why you haven't answered any of my letters, but don't worry! I know you'll be fine and your letter probably just got lost in the mail office or among the other letters. Michelle hasn't received any letters from Lucas either. She says not to worry so I try not to.

But what about the package, why did I get that back when I haven't got any of my letters back? Maybe you don't have the option of writing back, or maybe the letters just don't get send. Either way I miss you. your voice, everything. I didn't think I would ever forget what your voice sound like, but I have; I don't remember how you sound. I know you can't pronounce the word "kitchen" because of God knows what and I know you, therefore, call it "cooking-room" because you don't want to sound stupid. I know that, but I don't remember. I don't remember why you mix up the word "kitchen" since it's a very simple word and I don't remember how you pronounce it, I just know that you feel embarrassed about it. I know you've practiced all sorts of tongue twisters since your teacher in school said you had problems pronouncing the words correctly, and I know that you blew her mind, but that you've never been able to say the "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" one even though you've practiced and tried a hundred times. I also know you pretend to be British sometimes. I know you haven't used the word "cell phone" since you were 12 because your uncles from England came to visit then and you just realized you wanted to be British. I know you think you sound British when you say "mobile phone", even though you don't, but I don't remember how you say it. Which words you put pressure on when you speak.

I don't want to forget those things. That's why I didn't want to write you, I want you to call me even though I know you can't. It's stupid, I keep telling myself. I want you to be here when I have the baby. I want to hold your hand and I want to press it so hard, I'm gonna break it. God knows, I want you to laugh at me. I want you to tell me I'm being stupid and I want you to make jokes about my big stomach. I want you to call me your pregnant little girlfriend or I want you to just make fun of me.

When people ask, I tell them I miss you, of course, I miss you, but what I don't tell them is what I miss. Of course, I miss to hear you tell me you love me, but more than anything, I miss that you're here. I want you to tease me, I want you to make a mess in the living room and I want you to drink all the milk and then put the milk carton back in the fridge. I want to get annoyed at you.

Luckily, people often don't ask any further questions when I tell them I miss you.

Hannah promised she'd pack a bag and stay with me from Wednesday in case the baby chooses to show up in the middle of the night. It'll be nice to have her here, I guess. My mom and dad are flying in from Missouri Friday and then they'll come and stay at our apartment too. Your mom even called yesterday and offered to come stay with me till the baby's born, but I told her I already had my sister and my parents coming over. She understood that.

I want you to come home. I didn't write you the last month because I was afraid I was gonna ask you to come home. And I didn't want you to know how badly I want you here, I need you here. For all I care, they can fight their damn war alone, I just want you home. I know you feel different. It's about honor, I guess. But, Gabriel, I say you leave that honor somewhere else and come home to us. I don't want to be alone with a child. I haven't asked you this before because I honestly didn't want you to feel bad about leaving me, but I'm asking you now;

Please come home.

You must. There must be a way you can be sent back home, please, I need you here. More than ever. I'm having a child in a few days and all I want is to see you. I don't care about the baby in the way that I should, and I don't know why I can't love our child as much as I want to, but I know that you're the only one who can help me. Maybe it's because I miss you. Yeah, it's only because I miss you, I feel this way.

I should never have written this letter, but I'll post it anyway. I promised you to tell you everything, remember? This is everything. I've tried not to make you feel worse than you feel already, but I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me

Love,

Your Claire