NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA, 2009
Dearest Lucy,
I may not be able to send this letter today or
even tomorrow, but you are in my mind and my heart every minute. I
won’t try to describe exactly where I am. But I am safe and will
tell you everything when it is done. There is a lot to say that
can’t be written or even thought right now.
I’ve begun to see what this adversary of ours
can do, and it is beyond what I imagined. This thing I am trying to
do has to be done. I know that even more urgently now. To
kill him is not enough. I’ve learned to think on a big canvas, if
nothing else. I know what I have to do and how to do it.
So what do I do for fun, you ask?
I think of you. I think of you wearing a kira
and digging your hands in the dirt of the garden they have there. I
think of you taking off your shoes and socks and dunking your feet
in the fishpond. I think of you putting your hair behind your ears.
I think of you drinking tea. I think of you sleeping. (Seriously, I
do. That’s my idea of fun, and I don’t care what you say.) I think
of all the different parts of your body—and no, not just the ones
you think I’m thinking of. I picture the scar on your shoulder, and
I picture me kissing it as though that’s going to help it heal
right. I picture us together. I picture us making love three times
a day. (You promised.) I picture you lying in my arms for hours and
hours after all this is done, and me telling you everything that’s
happened. It’s quite a story, and by then it will be a better
story, because I’ll know how the ending goes.
I don’t want to say more now. You are with me,
my Lucy, in every idea, every calculation, every lust, every
stumble, every triumph, and every grief. What I see, I see with
your eyes, too, and with you I am more determined and better than I
could ever be without you.
I know this letter is devoid of any real
information, and I apologize for that. You can punch me for it
later. But I realize I write it as a kind of prayer. I pray that
even without getting it (or the letter I wrote you last night or
the one I will write you tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow) you
will know what’s in it: that I am safe and above all that I am with
you wherever I am, that there is no force on this earth or length
of time that will keep me from you. I will come back. My love for
you is truer than anything I have known in this long, very long,
life.
Love demands everything, they say, but my love
demands only this: that no matter what happens or how long it
takes, you’ll keep faith in me, you’ll remember who we are, and
you’ll never feel despair.
Yours forever,
Daniel
Daniel