Calling himself her “Li’l USO Commander,” Dart warns Dot that this letter will be short. He has an 8:00 watch and he must do some laundry before that if he hopes to wear clothes during his liberty. “This can be only three pages long, at most – probably only two. I wish it could be longer. Better still, I wish the same wish I’ve wished each time I wrote for two years; that we’d not have to write to the one we love more than anything else in the world, but that we’d be expressing our love in the countless other ways people use when they are near each other. You, whether you know it or not, were with me every minute of that trip yesterday.”
He talks about how they were looking at the charming scenes of Charleston together. He could almost feel her shoulder against his arm. He cherished the brush of her hand across his cheek. She was there in spirit, but he was terribly lonesome for the part of her that wasn’t there.
His enchantment with his host city has not faded overnight. “I think you’d have loved Charleston yesterday. It was so soft, and pretty, and homey in the yellow winter sun. There’s something about a little brick cottage covered in ivy and flowering vines, with a big chimney at each end and a hearty door in the middle; a roof of purplish tile, and small panes of glass separating the greenery within from the wild greenery without. That ‘something’ makes me desirous. The desire of living there with you and having our family grow up in such peaceful and homey surroundings.”
“Dot, my love for you is so deep-rooted that everything I do, from the time I awaken and see your picture to the time I turn my back on it so I can dream of it, is dedicated to you. …I listen to music, and I’m dancing with you. The empty seat beside me in the movie is for you. You, not some sailor, is the person who walks with me, works with me, sits on the bus with me, takes liberty with me. Yet, though you are always with me, I miss you always.”
He’s getting quite frustrated with no mail. Why can’t the post office get her letters to him in a timely fashion?
The office recomputed his points at 28.5. He thinks it’s 28, which feels safer to him. He won’t get too eager if he keeps the number down. He’s 10 points below the number needed for discharge. “Oh Time! Oh, Tempus! Please keep on fugitin'”
He vows to think of her as he walks his beat tonight. If she were here, he’d kiss her with his eyes open so he wouldn’t miss an instant of seeing her.
And so his promised three-page letter ends on page six.
Now Dot is prepared to listen to Dart’s tales of the CO2 fire extinguisher. Her physical science test is behind her, she got a B and she can focus on something else. Last week she flunked a biology test and got an A on the other. Sadly for her, the one she flunked was worth more than the one she aced, but there’s nothing to be done about that now.
She was sure he would take her scolding well. “That’s one of the things I like so much about you; you can take suggestions gracefully and really do something about them.” She has noticed how much more cheerful and positive his letters have been lately.
Regarding his concern that they had offended her mother by staying up so late together during his leave, she makes a sage observation: “I’m sure Mom didn’t object one bit to having us sit up late. That’s one of the advantages of being the fourth one in a family of love-sick kids. By the time it was my turn to sit up on the ‘couch of honor,’ it was taken for granted we wouldn’t be going to bed very early. In fact, one night when we did go up to bed a little earlier, Mom asked if we’d had a disagreement. Confidentially, I can think of lots of things I’d rather do – one in particular. (As if you didn’t already know what I was thinking!)” Why, Dot! You little vixen!
The other night, Joyce and Dot were discussing their first love letters from their respective men. Dot’s first letter from Dart is far different from Joyce’s first letter from Bill! “I’m glad we held back some, though, ‘cuz now they mean that much more.”
She asks if Dart’s kidding about what her thoughts of them five years from now entail. She envisions him coming home to her every night after work with a big grin on his face. Then, they sit down to dinner and his grin fades, because he sees what they’re eating and how she’s prepared it.
Okay, it’s agreed. If they have time in their life once they’re together – which already seems pretty crowded – they’ll need to try roller skating together.
She wonders if he has considered writing children’s fairly tales for a living. She enjoyed his little fantasy about the men and the sidewalks, although it was six-pages of nothing she can really “answer.”
Her cold has gotten quite nasty and she feels miserable, so she’s heading off to bed to try and sleep it off. His idea of a photo for her parents is a great one. They’ve often tried to take one of hers, but she doesn’t want to part with any of them. She’s happy his picture also says “I love you” back every night. “Isn’t it wonderful the feeling is mutual?”
