Chapter Eight - Letters from Canada

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Ya lyublyu tebya, my sunflower.

...

Something within me changed that night.

I hadn't known Alfred for long - just a little under a month - but he'd grown on me. I normally would've found anyone with that kind of overly hyper personality to be highly irritating, but not Alfred.

Yes, he could be troublesome, and yes, he could act rather strangely. I still don't know how he knew I felt soft, and I can't understand his logic for not landing on islands between California and Tokyo. Yet for all his quirks, Alfred was amazing. He was hard working and diligent. He was much smarter than his appearance and attitude suggested. His heart was so kind and forgiving, despite anything that life could throw at him.

He was alive.

I don't know why he kissed me that night, but I'm not going to complain. I was happy.

However, the outside world can always find its way in.

The Great War was still being waged outside of Russia. Every day, Alfred would rush to get the mail and rifle through it for letters. Every day turned up nothing.

Then, on March 28, Alfred received a letter from Mattie. Ecstatic, Alfred tore open the envelope when we got home.

It read:

Dear Alfred,

I've been getting your letters, and I want to thank you for keeping me updated. I was beginning to wonder if you crashed at sea!

Everything's going fine here in Ottawa, but that's not why I'm writing this so quickly. I don't know if you know this, but Germany just pushed through the Hindenburg Line on the 21st. I got a telegram that said Dad and Pops were in that area.

I haven't heard anything else yet. But I think that's good. As far as I know, they're not injured or dead, otherwise I'd have known by now. I think they're still OK. Still, there's no way of being sure. We'll just have to keep praying that God will keep them safe.

Say hello to the Braginskys for me. I'll see you again!

Your brother,
                                 Matthew

Alfred's eyes clouded over with fear. Both his parents were trapped, and there were no hints as to their condition.

"Oh my God..." Alfred gasped. His breath hitched in his throat, the letter trembled in his hand, and tears fell from his eyes.

"Alfred..."

There was no consoling him. I could see that already. The news was too much of a shock.

Hanging his head, Alfred trudged on towards home, saying not a word.

His condition only got worse. Nothing I tried seemed to help. He wouldn't eat. He hardly slept. He stopped showing up to work. He even abandoned caring for Liberty Belle. He seemed to have left his soul behind, becoming a lifeless body in his everyday life.

Then, he got a letter which tore apart his heart.

It was on April 3 when he received his second letter from Mattie. Alfred's eyes started shining again. I prayed that whatever the letter contained was good news. Alfred anxiously opened the envelope and removed the letter.

But when I read the tear-stained letter, I felt my heart shatter.

Alfred,

I finally got news about the war.

It's Dad. He and a bunch of his men were gassed by German forces. I don't know if he's alive or dead or what. All I know is that he was gassed and he's currently undergoing treatment.

I'm so sorry, Alfred. I'll let you know if anything changes.

Your brother,
                           Matthew

Alfred's face was cold and expressionless.  It was almost as if he was expecting this to happen.

In the middle of the road, Alfred dropped to his knees and cried into his hands.

+ + + + +

I returned home from work that day to find Alfred sitting on the edge of the bed facing the window, his back turned toward me. He was writing in his flight log, but he wasn't talking at all. He was just scribbling angrily about who knows what.

"Alfred?" I said.

Alfred froze, then went back to writing.

"Alfred?" I repeated. This time, Alfred stopped writing and didn't continue.

"What the hell do you want?" Alfred growled.

I stepped back, taken completely by surprise at Alfred's harsh tone.

"I..." His words left me almost shell shocked.

"Go away," Alfred hissed.

I didn't budge. Alfred looked at me and sneered furiously.

"I said, go away," Alfred snarled.

"No," I responded. I wasn't going to leave, and Alfred wouldn't make me.

I half expected Alfred to scream or throw something at me. Instead, he snapped his flight log shut and stormed past me and out of the room. I tried to follow him, but he was already gone.

"The hell was that all about?" Natalia asked as I headed back upstairs. Katyushka gave her a reprimanding look.

"Ivan?" Katyushka asked. "Will you go after him?"

I didn't reply. I walked past them, went into my bedroom, and shut the door.

I wasn't looking for him because I knew where he'd go. I knew exactly where to look.

+ + + + +

I woke up an hour earlier than I usually would've the next morning. Katyushka and Natalia were still asleep. I tried not to make a sound as I left, closing the front door so softly that it made hardly any sound at all.

I quickly passed down the detour to the abandoned building and headed inside. Liberty Belle was still there, so Alfred hadn't been stupid and flown off last night. There was a ladder propped up against her fuselage, so I climbed it and looked inside.

Alfred was curled up in the pilot's seat, shaking with both the cold and his own crying. It was a pitiful sight, and I knew that Alfred was far gone.

"Alfred," I said softly as I moved toward the pilot's seat.

Alfred looked up at me, sniffling and rubbing his red eyes. He leaned out of the pilot's seat and wrapped his arms around me for dear life. All I could hear were his incoherent mutterings as he sobbed into my scarf.

I am sorry, Alfred, I wanted to say. I am here for you.

I will always be here for you.

* * * * *

I figured that now would be a great time to slap you back into reality.

No, I feel no shame.

Amō vos!

~Hipster Cicero

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