Under Normal Circumstances

Told You So

Dear May,

I'm writing this as you're sleeping. You seemed really freaked out and I don't know why, maybe you'll be able to tell me when you wake up. I wish you would so I could make it better, but that's why I'm writing this.

I want you to know that you did everything you could. You may not have been able to save Jack, but you were able to save me, Mills, Reles, Conrad, Mason, and Hank, which you did. You did that May, and I'm really grateful. I'm sure everyone else is grateful too, especially Hank. He finally gets to go home after 28 years thanks to you. I never met your sister, but Jack would talk about her all the time and I know that she's not going to blame you. If you love her this much that it tears you up to the point you pass out from crying, she loves you just as much. Trust me, it's easy to love you.

There was still more to his letter but at this point I just about slammed it down on the tray table, my hand covering those words as my heart beat completely out of rhythm. Hank startled awake with a snort beside me.

" We there yet?" He yawned, looking around until he noticed my white knuckles holding down the letter.

"Maybelle," he cautiously addressed me. "Your face is turning purple. Is it bad, or good?"

I just stared at the letter, the word 'Love' burning into my palm.

"Both."

And suddenly I absolutely had to finish reading it, I nearly tore it in two trying to pick it up again so quickly.

I hope that I said everything you need to hear. I wish I could be with you all the time to tell you myself. Remember how I told you my aunt made soap that she sends to me? Of course you do, you remember everything. There's a bar of it in the front pocket of the back pack. I'll see you real soon, May.

Love, Slivko

Hank caught the letter, saving it from damage as I flipped up the tray table and pulled the back pack out from under the seat in front of me. I hoisted it onto my lap and shoved my hand in the front pocket, my fingers meeting the smooth rectangle of a bar of soap. I pulled it out and took a sniff of Slivko's signature scent.

"What a dork," I laughed even as tears poured down my cheeks.

Hank was thoroughly confused as to why I was half laughing, half crying over a bar of soap, so he took a look at the letter. His confusion was replaced with a gentle smile.

"Maybelle," he spoke softly. "He loves you."

I covered my own smile behind my hand in floppy sleeve and wiped my face dry, careful not to get any tears on the soap.

"And do you love him?"

My mind flashed back to my dream and my smile slowly wilted.

"They asked me that, too. In my dream," I said staring blankly at the letter in his hands.

"And? What did you say?" He pressed.

"I didn't say anything."

"Why not?"

"Because Grace said it wasn't fair."

"What isn't fair?"

"For me to love him."

"Why?"

Our voices were rising as we became increasingly more agitated and we attracted the attention of nearby passengers.

"Because Jack just died," I went on quick shooting my answers.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Hank contended at a high decible.

Suddenly I was mad.

"Because my sister just lost the love of her life so it's not fair for me to find mine right now," I nearly yelled, feeling hot under the collar as my brows were knot together. 

Hank merely smiled and pointed a finger at me.
"There it is."

A stewardess came up just then and asked if everything was alright. Hank just smiled, completely useless, as I assured her everything was fine (a lie) and apologized for disturbing the other passengers. Hank was smug for the next ten hours of the flight.