Letter to Simpson Challange
Well, that is how letters start, but you are not dear to me. Maybe you were never dear to anyone.
But I do think of you, sometimes. I think of you, when he lies in my arms. I think of you, when he rests against me, heavy and damp and content. When we get back from the white blazing place, and our breathing slows, sometimes I kiss his hair, and I think of you.
I used to fight it. It used to seem a pollution of our love. But now I see it differently. I can afford to let you come to my mind, because there is time. Archie and I have a whole lifetime ahead of us. He will love me, and I will love him. And finally neither of us will remember you.
Because I have won completely, you see. He does not think of you in the day, and he no longer dreams of you at night. I know, because I feel his dreams against my own eyelids, against my own bare skin. He sleeps safe, and warm. He sleeps appreciated, and loved.
You lie in the ground. You don't sleep. The dead don't rest. They don't anything, they are dead.
I will not claim that you have not changed me. You have made me vigilant. I watch over him. It is my very great privilege. I have inestimable gift of his love.
Another man might try to forgive you. Captain Pellew perhaps, or old captain Keene. I am not that good a man.
Regards, Unblinking Unflinching Regards-- Lt Horatio Hornblower