Charles
We competed in life and now it seems in death too. Me and my best friend Elvis. He always had to the gift of the gab. Always won the girl, not that we'd ever gone for the same type of woman... not until Molly.
I don't know why I thought it would be easy, maybe because it had felt right from the beginning - I foolishly assumed we could get through anything. She was like the medicine for my soul I didn't know I needed until the day she gave up on us. How do I compete with her dead hero? How do I accept that I'm not enough?
I waited for her to cool off.. wanted her to think about what she was throwing away because she's the world to me and she knows it. I'd been ready to see out my army days in the Barracks with her by my side but she couldn't and wouldn't start fresh without him. The emotional pull to their life in Seabrook was too great for her to let go of.
I didn't want to be that guy again. The one who puts the army first, so I was willing to leave once I'd seen 2 section settle with a new CO. Maybe I should have told her but I wanted us to have our own home first... a few concrete commitments. I also wanted her to love me unconditionally like Rebecca never had but it turns out she loves him more... The ghost of Elvis now a wedge between us. Where did that leave me apart from jealous and bitter.
I signed up for the first tour that was offered hoping she'd give me reason to stay. Even up to the very last second at Brize I'd be willing to pull out, this leg always a perfect excuse because it isn't and never will be 100% but I hide it well... but she doesn't come. I scan every bit of ground I can, hoping, wishing and praying to find her pretty face staring back at me. For her to tell me our love is enough. No sorry needed, just being there would be enough. But she didn't come.
-OG-
Molly
I made the mistake that day. It was all on me. In his words "I chose the dead guy"
"Well I alway thought you were a bit of an idiot Mol and you've only gone a proved me right. Proper top bloke is Chaz"
For once in his life, Dave is right. I am an idiot.
I feel an urgency and it's like an adrenaline rush going through me as my fingers press the call button to connect me to Royal Crescent hoping he's there. His mobile not providing me with what I need and that's to hear his voice. I need to hear his voice right now, I need to tell him I'm a bleedin' idiot.
"..You're too late Molly..."
Mrs J fills me in and despite the fact she hates my guts, she wills me to reach him in time at a Brize Norton, so I floor it in Nan's Corsa with my favourite dickhead Dave for company, praying to god I make it in time to tell him I love him and I'm sorry and he's worth every bit of anxiety his career gives me and fucking hell life is shit without him. I'm ready to move on now and be wherever he needs me to be as long as we're together. I can do that for him.
It didn't take me long to realise but by the time I'd turned up at Brize Norton it was too late. Stupidly tried to call him as I watched the big, tall bastard round up his men and some little orange tart but I was too late and too far in the distance to get his attention. I watched him fly away on a tour he promised he'd never take but ultimately did because I broke his heart, after all I am queen of fucking my own life up. I couldn't show him just what he meant to me when it mattered.
Dave never says the right thing but this time he tries offer me hope.
"As your mother would say, what's meant for you won't pass you by" and as he squeezes my shoulder my world comes crashing down around me. The toll of losing Elvis and now really losing Charles reaching its ugly climax and I fall to pieces in my Nan's Corsa which stinks of fags and cheap perfume as I watch him fly away.
I lost my two great loves to the army.
-OG-
I've sat a thousand times to write it all down. You know, make sense of it in me nut then put it in a letter because I remember him saying how much he loved receiving an actual letter rather than an email. Something tangible to hold close on the lonely nights. But I never was good at expressing my feelings if it didn't include shouting and swearing.
I'm haunted by two pairs of brown eyes now but it's his I crave. His touch and the way he made me feel. They way he was slowly healing the hole left by Elvis and I didn't realise until it was too late that I choose him. Elvis would want me to choose him.
I've agonised for weeks with this letter, unsure if Mrs J would even bother her arse to pass it on now I had failed him but I think I've finally got the right words. Keeping it simple and real.
To my surprise Mrs J, who looks sad rather than sour faced agrees to send it on.
"We may not have stopped him this time, but hopefully there won't be a next" she shares wistfully. The same worry I carry in my heart is etched into her forehead, if she believes I'm her only hope of keeping him home then she really must desperate because she still can't look me in the eye. She can't get over the fact I was Elvis' girl.
"I trust that if he doesn't want to know then I won't hear from you again?"
Harsh. Even for Po faced Mrs J.
-OG-
Charles
Never on any of my previous tours have I been without Elvis. He'd always find a way to be needed out here. I promised myself I wouldn't put myself through it again, but here I am starting down a pair of binoculars searching for the enemy, waiting for them almost and sometimes even find myself hoping for a bit of action. Anything to take my mind off the pain raging inside me.
Fingers gives me an apologetic smile as he takes over guard duty. He's apologising just for existing because I've been that much of a tyrant that I've disconnected from my own men. I've become somebody else entirely.
"Mail drop Sir. The last 2 are for you"
Kingy drops the letters onto my dusty desk. Another one from mum and most likely Rebecca making me aware of my short comings as a father.
The general tone of Mums letters never changes. Worry, emotional blackmail and a little bit of news on Sam and a couple of recent photos to add to my pin board. What I wouldn't give just to hold my boy right now.
The sloppy penmanship of the second letter catches my eye. Certainly doesn't belong to Rebecca... I'd recognise it anywhere.
As I open the envelope my senses trick me into thinking I can smell her scent and the pain of her rejection fills me once again.
Dear Charles
I remembered how much you love a letter so I thought I'd write and set a few things straight..
I made a mistake and I'm sorry.
Life's a bit shit without you.
Please come back to me.
M x
