The Front

I awoke this morning to the same sound I hear every morning, at the same time like an alarm clock ripping me from my slumber, the sound of bombs blowing buildings to smithereens, and the sound of distant artillery fire ripping my countrymen to shreds. I sat up in my bed and simply stared off into space for a moment, the immediate shock fading quickly as I was now just discombobulated, recovering from my deep sleep. After about a minute I get out of bed and dress myself. I proceed to the kitchen where I find a note on the counter. It’s from Lena, my caretaker, saying that she will be out for a few hours to scavenge for food. She does this about once a week, but each time it brings me a great deal of anxiety. I couldn’t bear to be without her for long, and she knows this, so I trust she will return quickly, and proceed to making my morning coffee.

Since the war began coffee has been rather scarce, and the vast majority is reserved for soldiers on the front. I, or rather Lena, have managed to get our hands on some coffee through means beyond myself. It’s a cheap instant coffee, the type that you simply scoop and mix with some warm water. Of course, heating has not been functional for quite some time, so I settle for cold water, which takes a bit more effort to mix with the coffee. Of course, the coffee is scarce, so I can only use so much, leaving me with room-temperature coffee-flavored water. I drink it down quickly, and the bit of caffeine in it clears my headache. Lena does not allow me to drink coffee as the caffeine is supposedly bad for my heart, but I do so when she is not around. When I do not have it, it leaves me with a terrible headache, so I feel that the benefits outweigh the risks. I do feel bad for betraying her like that, but it hasn’t done me any harm yet.

I move to the living room where we are lucky to have a couch and television. While many essential services have gone offline, we are always lucky to have the broadcasts continue on. I sit down on the couch and turn on the tv, showing me reports on the progress of the war. The bombing and shelling is quite loud, so I must turn up the volume on the tv. Enemy forces continue to advance in the west of the nation, however in the east, where I am, they have fought to a stalemate, where my city happens to be right on the frontline. Almost everyone has evacuated by now, but Lena and I have stayed, as she says that I am better to stick with her. She has cared for me like no other, and I love her greatly. Every moment without her the anxiety in me builds and I begin to tap my foot. Reports on the war continue on the television but by this point thoughts of her absence have completely clouded my mind. The waiting is always the worst part. I begin to lose function, my soul slips into despair. Has she left the city? Abandoned me? Run off with someone else? I am alone here, to starve? I can not fend for myself without her, I will surely perish.

She enters. Immediately these thoughts are washed away and I am filled with bliss, rising from the couch to embrace her. I sink my head into her and it feels like an eternity before we unlock. She has brought back food. It should last until next week. We can be together until then. We go to the couch and she sits, while I lie down, my head resting in her lap. She begins to stroke my hair and we talk.

“My husband seems to be doing well. They are being pushed in the west, but he remains in good spirits and they are well supplied, at least, according to his most recent letter.”

My heart sinks, I hate her husband. However, I oblige in this conversation.

“Ah, well that’s good to hear. I’m glad we have men like him who can stand and fight for our nation, far better than some wretch like me confined to the home in poor health.”

She continues to stroke my hair. It feels good.

“Yes, well, I am very glad you are here. You are the only source of any joy I can find in these lonely days.”

My stomach flutters as she says this. I love her.

“Well I’m very glad I can be. You are the light of my life.”

A knock from the door is heard and she immediately goes to answer, practically pushing me off of her in her speed. A courier is at the door, handing her another letter, presumably from her husband. Misery once more floods my body. This letter will occupy her for hours now. Away from me. Her love was stolen from me once more.

“Oh! Well Max just wrote to me once more!” She says filled with joy.

“Well, he’s fast.” I say, my disappointment almost showing in my tone.

“Yes, indeed. These letters just make me so happy, they are the only reason I get up at all.”

This kills me a bit.

“...well what does it say?” I ask, in a bit of a grumble.

“Ah yes,” she opens it, and scans it for a moment “He is in good health. Oh! Why don’t you write to him? I have been telling him about how you’ve been keeping me company and I am sure he’d love to hear from you as well.”

I, of course, cannot refuse this offer, as much as I’d like to. The last thing I’d want to do is talk to Max. However, I must oblige for the sake of Lena’s joy. I sit up and move to a table, grabbing a paper and writing:

Dear Max,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health on the front. Each day I pray for you and your comrades continued success and safety.

This was, of course, a lie. It would be much more truthful to say I pray that he is blown apart by a shell each day. No matter, I continue to write:

Here in the east we have fought to a bloody stalemate, though I am sure you have heard about this in one way or another. Food is scarce, as it is all sent to feed you, but this does not bother me. Lena has been a source of continued joy for me in these trying times, as I am sure her letters are for you. I am thoroughly blessed to have her as a companion, though she misses you greatly. All the best,

Albert

I keep the letter brief, I can only lie so much. I hand it off to Lena and she puts it in an envelope, then she writes her own. I wait with impatience for her to finish, I need her attention to return to me. I need it now.