The Wife Draft (Peterick)

Washington: The Shortwave

My Peter,

Aren't you handsome? I certainly don't mind having you send me such amazing photographs. I shall up the ante. I've enclosed three for you.

This new thing you're doing by calling me sweetheart? I'm a fan, mon chéri.

Our puppy love is adorable from afar, isn't it? Because I'm doing as well as I can without being able to talk to you. Send me your number. Next time I reach a pay phone, I'll be sure to use my last nickel on you.

I can't believe you want to use your vacation on me! Louisiana is lovely, but the state would be even better with you in it. I can't wait to show you all the jazz clubs, take you to all the French restaurants, sleep with you, have you meet my friends, just everything. The months are going to pass by so slowly now. You have just made me so undeniably happy!

Can I be selfish for a moment? It makes me physically sick to think of you with anyone other than me. You're my boyfriend. I wish writing could exemplify the heavy accent I wish to put on 'my.' I understand how your mother must feel, and I truly promise that I empathize with her, but you have to find a way to stop any marriage. I only want you to think of me in that way.

I'm sorry I'm so jealous. I don't really have a right to be, do I? We've only known each other for a night and four letters, but that really works out to over four weeks. A month. We've been together for a month. Isn't that adorable? I hope you know that I'm laughing as I write 'happy anniversary.'

And I know that I never did particularly ask you to be my boyfriend, but you are now. Veux-tu être mon petit-ami? Oui? Great.

One day, maybe we'll feel love for each other. That would be something. I've never felt it before. I hope I'm not scaring you with all this relationship talk. Soon, we'll be together again and in a room where we can be as together as you want.

The months just can't pass by soon enough. But I'd rather wait than rush to have you back. It'll make our lust grow stronger. And then, seeing you again, I swear I'll be the happiest man in the world.

I've written too much, haven't I? But dammit, I'm not ready to be done yet. I could write an entire novel for you. Maybe a song would work out better. The poetry and lyricality would better capture your absolute perfection.

I want to know everything about you. Even the stupid stuff. What's your favorite color? I'm an amazing cook. What would you want me to make you? If you could have any other job, what would it be?