Easter nite –
Dearest old Fritzie boy –
My heart’s just so full. The more I look at the dear lilies, the more thrilled and happy I get. The more I think and realize that if only Fritz would be as sweet and thoughtful and dear to me always, I’d give him my very life in return. If he’d only forget about chips – about jealousy – about any other boy having even the ghost of a chance at either my heart or my lips – and just fill my heart and my life so chuck full of Fred that I didn’t have eyes for another living soul. But, sweetheart, I’ve just got to have attention. I was made that way. I’m not so violently selfish, I don’t think. I get pleasure out of seeing other people made happy and I do love above all to do the little things for Fred that somehow my soul just leaps up to do – just the little attentions that thrill a mortal to death. I have to watch myself to keep from showering all the things I want to on you, and I know you would consider me a sentimental fool. But I just have to have the little things in life – or I’m awfully miserable. Please sweetheart, don’t think I’m telling you all these things just to be talking about myself, but I want to love you. I want to let you be my very world – just king of the universe in my heart, but somehow that king has to uphold certain of my ideals. I know one can’t expect perfection in any mortal, and I don’t expect perfection, but I just can’t force myself to so completely forget my own individuality that I can put up with the one ideal I wanted in the boy I love. It’s an ideal I’ve held for about 10 years. That’s why I’m trying so hard to get you to see things my way. Do you understand – or do you think I’m really crazy?
Fred, sweetheart, listen, I don’t want other boys. I don’t want their attentions, their dates. I want yours, but sometimes when I don’t get them I feel so lonely – that’s why I have to have friends. I know sweetheart, that you can’t give me now all you’d like to, I know that you can’t do things you’d like to for me, and that is exactly why you mustn’t be jealous. Why you must put absolute confidence and trust in my love for you, and why you must remember always that if I find a man whom I could love better than you, I’d would be the last thing that you’d have – if I could find another.
I feel that way about you, dear. If you ever found a girl whom you loved better than your old pal, Florence. I’d give you to her right out of my arms, not without a fight, to, I’d fight grim Death to keep you, but one’s heart can’t be controlled – and love is wayward. To give you up would tear the heart out of my body – years and years would pass before I forgot the thrill of your arms – the whispered words, “Dearest Darling”, “sweetheart”, old girl, and I’d never forget Fred – but good grief. I’m not planning to lose you. My hold on you is loose, awfully loose. You know that any time you’re free to step out – you’re free to go and do as you please. There’s only one thing I insist on, that is, Saturday nite is mine. To the end of your life and mine, Saturday nite will be a memory (I hope it will always be a reality) of Fred and Florence, and to no one else will Saturday nite belong – ever. The other thing is this – as long as you’re going with me, if you do go with someone else, she must be a girl who is worthy of your friendship. Don’t go with the girls who are beneath you. I need not say all that for I know Fred too well. But I just want to tell you, dear, that you’re free as the wind. My hold on you is love. And oh, Fred, do all you can to get such a hold on me, you have such a wonderful start, all you have to do it to fill my heart and life so full of Fred that I haven’t even had a chance to think of anything else, or anyone else. For, after all, big boy, I want just you. I want to be yours. I want you to call me your own, to have the right to take me in your arms, and offer me a haven of protection and a heaven in paradise. It’s all up to you. That’s why I want so bad to tell you how you can hold me close, so that I’ll never want to escape.
You said this afternoon how you wanted some day to have a big beautiful home and plenty of money. I do, too. And I wonder what could be quite so wonderful as to help you build a home like that, and to call it ‘ours‘. But that’s rather previous, isn’t it? Hurry up and finish school and be a millionaire, won’t you? Please?
Oh, my head’s just throbbing, I’ve had so much excitement today, the lilies knocked me out, made me even cry a little before I came in to you this morning. Then the way you conquered yourself when Bruce called. Fred, if you’d do that oftener, I’d feel like I really could be supremely happy with you always. It shows you’re a man, that you’ve got something else in you beside just the fulfillment of your own desires. And gee, I loved you a thousand times more if such could be possible.
And, you know, a fellow shouldn’t another one a little pleasure once in a while, especially when he knows he’s winning the race, and the other fellow knows it, too. For no one else has the ghost of a chance, my heart’s gone, never to be returned, I hope. You said once that you weren’t so keen about entering the race for my heart, or words to that effect. Who mentioned a race?
Why race when you’ve already reached that goal post? And you didn’t know it. That’s why I say I won’t be jealous. There’s really very little reason for jealousy, unless you’re afraid you’ll lose me, and rest assured, old boy, I’d hang onto you for grim death. There are very few boys in the world who are worth hanging onto but Fred is one. So you could laugh outloud in a boy’s face and tell him to “strut his stuff” and you’ll strut a little harder. In a minute’s time you’d have me swinging around your neck in broad daylight. See how many secrets I’m telling you? Please, Fred dear, if you love me – if you want to win me in this surest way and hold me just listen to the few words I say – and if other questions arise, go to Mother. She knows me better than any one.
And while I’ve been writing this, I know what you’ll be thinking. My heart isn’t won yet entirely. I know it. I know that there are girls galore who are every bit + even more attractive than I. However, I do my best every day to make you think there’s only one Florence, and I don’t let up a minute hardly because there’s only one thing more valuable to me than Fritz, and that one thing is Fred Jacob Stancliff.
And now I must go. Just remember, love, like a rose, comes but once. It watered and cared for in the bud, when it is full blown it will last a long time. Love however, if it is love, lasts thru all eternity. It’s immortal. Make my love like that, won’t you. You can do it so easily. After all, I love you.