response #3 to challenge "letters"
-- and a follow-up to response #2 --
"The Galley"
Jack received his galley copy of The Moscow Letters two weeks before he was due to see Irina again. Apparently the publishers wanted him to sign a waiver, despite the fact that his true name was never used. The note Irina sent with it said, Last chance, Jack. If you want to stop the publication, you can - and I'll understand. The money is irrelevant. I was more interested in writing it all down.
He knew that Sydney had received a copy as well; were they the only two readers Irina really wanted?
"I'll read it after the honeymoon," Sydney said, while standing with Jack at the far end of the church during the wedding rehearsal. "It's going to be emotional, and right now -"
Vaughn, at the front of the church, grinned as Weiss slapped him on the shoulder.
"One thing at a time, " Jack said, understanding.
Late the next evening, he gratefully untied his bow tie and slipped off his patent-leather shoes. Grains of rice fell from his cuffs. He settled back onto his couch with a brandy and began to read.
The beginning asked him to envision Katya and Elena as little girls ("Petra" and "Raisa"), something he had little ability or desire to accomplish. But Irina - her he could see, with her quick tongue and quicker temper, her petty thieveries and her greater goals. Jack realized he was smiling as he read, imagining Irina's voice telling the story.
Then the KGB came for her, and his smile disappeared.
Above all, I learned how to deceive, and no deception requires such skill and motivation as the creation of a false love.
Jack took a deep breath, refilled his brandy and kept going.
The creation of Laura ("Brooke") was almost as painful to read as her deconstruction had been to experience. How carefully they had picked out the details of her life, the little things he'd loved: her fascination with French cinema, her memories of growing up, even the Chanel perfume she wore. Actually seeing the process was a bit like being a condemned man in the old days, watching the jailers build the gallows.
Her target's name was "Arthur," which in Jack's opinion wasn't the most euphonious possible choice. It scarcely mattered. His stomach churned as he turned the pages, almost as if in suspense, bringing them closer to their first encounter.
They told me many lies, in those days. But they told me one truth: Chance is the fool's name for fate. They wanted me to think that my fate was to live out my duty to the KGB. But my fate - my destiny - was to meet my husband. All the lies, all the betrayal - that was only the path I had to travel to find him.
Jack brushed his hand along the page, fingertips against the words. Already, he knew he would sign the release, no matter how embarrassing the rest might be. He owed her that much, just for having him told him this.
**
Shmoop alert!
"The Galley"
Jack received his galley copy of The Moscow Letters two weeks before he was due to see Irina again. Apparently the publishers wanted him to sign a waiver, despite the fact that his true name was never used. The note Irina sent with it said, Last chance, Jack. If you want to stop the publication, you can - and I'll understand. The money is irrelevant. I was more interested in writing it all down.
He knew that Sydney had received a copy as well; were they the only two readers Irina really wanted?
"I'll read it after the honeymoon," Sydney said, while standing with Jack at the far end of the church during the wedding rehearsal. "It's going to be emotional, and right now -"
Vaughn, at the front of the church, grinned as Weiss slapped him on the shoulder.
"One thing at a time, " Jack said, understanding.
Late the next evening, he gratefully untied his bow tie and slipped off his patent-leather shoes. Grains of rice fell from his cuffs. He settled back onto his couch with a brandy and began to read.
The beginning asked him to envision Katya and Elena as little girls ("Petra" and "Raisa"), something he had little ability or desire to accomplish. But Irina - her he could see, with her quick tongue and quicker temper, her petty thieveries and her greater goals. Jack realized he was smiling as he read, imagining Irina's voice telling the story.
Then the KGB came for her, and his smile disappeared.
Above all, I learned how to deceive, and no deception requires such skill and motivation as the creation of a false love.
Jack took a deep breath, refilled his brandy and kept going.
The creation of Laura ("Brooke") was almost as painful to read as her deconstruction had been to experience. How carefully they had picked out the details of her life, the little things he'd loved: her fascination with French cinema, her memories of growing up, even the Chanel perfume she wore. Actually seeing the process was a bit like being a condemned man in the old days, watching the jailers build the gallows.
Her target's name was "Arthur," which in Jack's opinion wasn't the most euphonious possible choice. It scarcely mattered. His stomach churned as he turned the pages, almost as if in suspense, bringing them closer to their first encounter.
They told me many lies, in those days. But they told me one truth: Chance is the fool's name for fate. They wanted me to think that my fate was to live out my duty to the KGB. But my fate - my destiny - was to meet my husband. All the lies, all the betrayal - that was only the path I had to travel to find him.
Jack brushed his hand along the page, fingertips against the words. Already, he knew he would sign the release, no matter how embarrassing the rest might be. He owed her that much, just for having him told him this.
**
Shmoop alert!