Letter to Saul

The letter Sara sends to Saul while he's at bootcamp. (they had a big fight before he left). Here's their goodbye scene:

“What is this?” I whispered, staring at the letter, gripping it so hard that the edges were beginning to crinkle.
Saul was watching his hands, his eyes storming. “Can’t you read, dummy?”
My hands trembled. “Please don’t tell me this is…”
He picked at the loose cement in between the bricks on the wall we were sitting on. “Sara… you know I have to answer it. I’m eighteen. I have to go.”
I looked at him, disbelief making my throat tighten. “No, you don’t. There has to be something you can do. If I know you, you’ll think of something, won’t you? I mean-”
He took the paper away from me and shoved it into his pocket. “No, there’s absolutely nothing I can do.”
“Go talk to the draft office, tell them you have some horrible disease-”
Saul shook his head. “They won’t care. Nobody will. If it would let me stay home with you, I would march all the way to the Führer and demand it. I promise I would. But it wouldn’t make any difference.”
I tried to stop myself from quivering and bit my lip. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
We sat silently on the brick wall, watching Sissy graze upon a nearby clover patch, neither of us knowing what to say, the silence stabbing us. The wind murmured and I could hear the last cicada’s of summer humming as the sun dipped over the endless fields of barley and wheat, turning to fire in the sunset. He suddenly slung an arm around my shoulder, like he used to when we were kids, and I let him.
“So you’re going. Just like that,” I murmured.
“I’m sorry, S.J., I really am. Do you think I want to go? Are you under the impression that I want to get shot at? Bombed?” I looked away when he said this, and he sighed. “I don’t want to leave you like this, okay?” He glanced over at me, his face taught. “Sara… I have something to tell you before I go…”
I looked at him, waiting, hoping absurdly. “What?”
He watched me for a moment. His mouth opened, as if he was going to say something, but he closed up, thinking better of it. “Just be careful out there, Scheisskopf; I don’t want you messing up your ankle again.”
I stared at him. “That’s it?”
“What’s it?”
I jumped off the wall and turned to face him. “That’s all you have to say to me? After everything, that’s it?” I felt pain and anger run up my spine, setting my veins on fire.
He held up his hands in an act of respite. “Beschwichtigen,” he said, “calm down! Calm down, Sara! I’m just looking out for you!”
I fought the tears that were threatening to break down my cheeks. What was wrong with me? “No! You know what? Just go!” I shouted.
Saul slipped down from the wall and stepped towards me, confused, irritated. “Sara, what’s the matter…?”
He reached towards me, but I shied away. He was leaving me. My best friend was leaving me! “You’re just like Adele and Hanna and Ralf! You’re leaving me behind when I need you the most!”
He tried to touch my shoulder again, and I spun around and slapped his hand away. He recoiled like he had just tapped a burning stove. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. I pushed him and he stumbled back. “Just get out of here, you useless piece of Schmutz! I don’t need you!” I snarled, my voice breaking, ripping in half as I covered the pain with anger. In one month, my world had caved in around me, lying in pieces about my feet. My baby sister was dead. My aunt had gone home to America. Almost all my old friends had been blown up. And now, my best friend was going to war and he couldn’t even tell me he loved me.

Saul stared at me, his face crushed, eyes shuddering. “Sara…”
I couldn’t keep his gaze and I turned away, feeling my body begin to quiver. “Just go,” I choked, and I heard him stamp his foot down.
“Fine! I will! Now you can go be a bitch to Benjamin, since you seem to be getting so cozy with him!”
“You asshole, you double-crossing, knock-kneed, bow-legged asshole!” I shouted, spinning around. “You go have a great time in Russia; I hope you get shot and go straight to hell!”
His brown eyes were boiling. “I’ll be sure to save you a spot while I’m down there, you Saumensch! I’ll be sure to make out with as many girls as I can before I go down! Us soldiers have plenty of time between battles!” And with that, he spun on his heels and started walking away.
I took a handful of pebbles and dirt and chucked it at his back. “Good! I don’t give a damn! Go sack a hundred sluts if it’ll make you feel better, you ass-licking son of a bitch! Saul! Goddamnit, Saul, look at me when I’m talking to you!” Tears began tearing down my cheeks, burning their whole way down. “Fine! I don’t need you! Go get blown up, for all I care! I hope you do! Then I’d never have to see your sorry face again!” I staggered and threw one more wad of loam at his back. “And don’t you expect any letters from me! I’ll sooner shit on your grave than write you a goddamn letter!” I screamed as I turned away. After a moment, I stole a glance over my shoulder. I could see his reedy form striding off, and he looked back just once. When he did, I could see tears. But then my vision blurred with my own and I crumpled to the ground, doubling over, sobbing. The boy with sunflower hair was leaving me. He would be gone within a few hours.
Gone. Gone.
I dug my fingernails into the loose gravel, my hair meshing with the dirt. What happened to our childhood?

Where did it go?

What happened to the mud pies? What happened to playing tag in the wheat field or catching tadpoles in the crick?
They were gone. Just like he was. And I was adamant that I would never, ever write that bastard a single word.



everything (c) me