He began to write. He went all the way back to the 29th of December, their first day of combat in Belgium. He wrote and wrote, thinking at first he’d only record the salient points, but soon his hand could barely keep up, remembering things he didn’t know he had forgotten. Page after page, until he reached today.

If only you knew how badly I want you to be every little thing in my life, Asta.

But it’s war. We rose up at dawn and learned we were relieved. We came to this village of Chêne and it’s now January 5, 1945, the morning after I slept with Solange for all the wrong reasons.

I lay down with a woman and woke up with a goose egg.

C’est la guerre.

God, I want you so badly.

I say this not as the Kennet you knew, the guy who knew the cardinal points of right and wrong. He’s gone.

I’ll never be him again.

The last bit of him left Clayton and went back to Brazil with you.

And then it died. Disintegrated into silver pieces and bled out of you. The best of me. Lost.

I want it back.

Asta, my love, I want to be buried in your body. I want to take you from behind, hold you down on your belly, knot my limbs around you and fill my mouth with your hair. Then roll you over to face me, put my heart on your heart, my mouth on your mouth. Fill up my lungs with your breath. Fill your belly with another baby and this time, fight to keep what’s mine.

I feel strongly it was a girl.

It was a girl, wasn’t it?

It had to have been. Fiskare daughters are a rare thing.

I’m being maudlin, aren’t I?

I don’t fucking care.

God damn me to hell, I never should’ve let you go.

I should’ve broken down the hotel room door where your mother was keeping you. I should’ve gone through the window. I should’ve run after the train. I should’ve gotten on a boat to Rio. I should have. I should have I should have.

But I was raised to be a gentleman, so I didn’t.

But that Kennet is no more.

The Kennet of today wouldn’t have let you go.

And if there’s a Kennet of tomorrow…he might not have any damns to give for gentlemanly behavior or social niceties. He might just show up in Rio. He might tell your husband, “We can do this the easy way, or do it the hard way. But we’re doing this.” This future Kennet knows how to fight. He takes no prisoners. He can kill a child then forget about it. He’s more pirate than fisherman.