V-mail from Marguerite Vincenzo to Seaman Tobias Vincenzo
Toby,
Happy birthday. Do you know what your present is? A child. Roylene is carrying it. How’s that for a surprise?
Here I am, worrying myself to death that this war is going to take you away, when the assassin was right here in Iowa City, biting her fingernails and peeling potatoes. Is this the life you had planned? Is she what you want? I can’t see it. And I thought I knew you better than anyone.
I should have known enough to save you from your mistakes. I should have banged that motel door down. I should have kicked it in.
But...what’s done is done. That baby is on its way into the world without you here to greet it. Do you trust me to do your job until you get home? I’m not sure I would, given my track record.
Your birthday gift is a promise to try. That’s all I’m capable of at this point.
I love you.
Your ma
[Letter never sent—slipped into the lining of Rita’s sewing kit.]