I'll Burn With You (MXM)

Chapter 11 : The Next Letters

The letters came quicker despite the dates.

~ ~ ~

March 15, 1894

Dear B,

The anxiety you have been writing about, I am quite familiar. What's more, I am relieved to find someone who knows the sensation and with such intimacy. Your fears are not unfounded, so please do not dismiss them so readily. They might be a burden to carry, but my mother always told me that fear is the presentation of an opportunity.

It never ceases to amaze me how you make me feel so understood. I am left breathless at each letter, finding mutual understanding in our words.

I confess, and I wish I did not have to, I do not know what I want. It is like I am at the bottom of a deep well, staring up into the sunlight above and wishing for another way out, but there is none. I have been told I am to stay there, and nothing unnerves me more than looking up and seeing the world above me and I cannot have it.

I wish I could answer your question with the apparent resignation you have written yours, but I cannot. My future appears before me like time's arrow, marching ever forward without deviation which I can never stop. Were I to disavow myself from my family, where should I go if I do not know the destination? Should I bother picking one if I am uncertain of what kind of life I desire? Is it selfish of me to want more than what there is? My father tells me that I am, and I have no illusions that my mother thinks the same, as do my siblings, but

The line abruptly stopped. The start of the next word began marked by the lingering point of the pen, remaining unfinished. Ben could feel the hesitation, the lack of protest in the incomplete lines. A sigh so heavy.

J's writings continued on the next page.

'Resignation?' Ben wondered, swallowing. "I..." He shook his head. He had not "resigned" himself. This was his life, just as Miss Byrd's life was in Allisport. There was nothing more to consider. She and he were no more than pen-pals, to write and never see. Besides, he probably did not deserve her attention anyway.

He glanced up when a cloaked man passed by the general store windows, anxiety spiking in his gut. The figure passed without glancing up; Ben swallowed and he read on.

I hope you had a wonderful Fifteenth birthday. Had I known I would have asked to send you something – books, jewelry, things of that nature. If you wish, I would still be willing to send something small as a token of our newfound friendship.

I promise, and I will continue to promise you, that the words written here will remain in my confidence, that is to say I will not tell a soul if you will do the same for me.

Regards,
J. Byrd

P.S. I forgot to ask, and there is no place to put it, but tell me about Mr. Pryce. I am confused – is he related, or is it mere coincidence that you have same-sounding last names?

March 22, 1894

Dear J. Byrd,

When I read your letter, I was left, admittedly, stunned and confused that you understood me. I had to re-read it to make sure I understood what you meant! I am shamed in confessing that to you, it was, in many ways, extraordinarily inappropriate and I do apologize for it.

Mr. Pryce shares only a similar-sounding surname with myself. He's a good man, kindly. The devotion to his job and family is quite admirable; he keeps photographs of his wife and children in the office and prides himself in them. I do sometimes wish he was a member of my family, though that is not the case.