The Cassette

“Do you have everything you need?” she asked, looking up at him as he rushed to the door.

“Everything,” He answered, setting the nap-sack down to fuss with the tie of his Crackerjack uniform. “It’s only for six months. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I know,” Cynthia answered, fidgeting her fingers as she adjusted the toddler on her hip. “It’s just... I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Honey,” David cooed, adjusting the smaller bag he carried on his shoulder. “And I’ll miss you, too, Sweet-pea,” he said, placing his hand gently on the little girl’s head. “Now, Missy, You take good care of Momma for me, now. Don’t keep her up all night.”

“You know she will, now that you’ve said something,” Cynthia laughed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Come home safe,” she whispered, looking up at him, willing him to understand how much she needed him.

“I will, I promise. Oh,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his pea-coat, pulling out a small package. “It’s not much, but maybe it will help you sleep some. I’ve got to go.”

“Alright. I love you,” Cynthia said, the tears starting to flow freely now, as she took the small parcel from his hand, shoving it in her back pocket without looking at it.

“I love you, too, Honey. Be safe,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Cynthia held the screen for him as he rushed to his cab, waving behind him frantically. Waving back, she allowed the screen to shut, and watched as the cab drove down the street and around the corner until it couldn’t be seen any more.


As the dark settled in, Cynthia started to get jumpy. David was gone for his deployment, Missy was sound asleep in her crib, and the house was entirely too spotless from her frantic cleaning. Sitting down for the first time in hours, she gasped.

“What the hell?” she mumbled, reaching into her back pocket to pull the foreign object out. She looked at the small package, wondering what it could possibly be.

“Maybe it will help you sleep some.”
What was it? Some kind of sleeping pill? She pulled off the newspaper wrapping that David had taped around the object.

“A tape?” she whispered, confusion clouding around her mind. Walking slowly to the bedroom she shared with David, she wondered what could possibly be on it to help her sleep.

As she opened the door and turned on the light, she noticed the small label he’d attached to one side.

I love you, sleep well.
She absolutely adored that man.

She lightly pressed the eject button on the cassette deck on the bureau, and tucked the cassette in place. A few seconds after pressing the play button, she recognized the first voice that drifted to her from the speakers.

“I love you, and I miss you, and I hope you sleep well, Honey.”
David’s voice fell from the speakers sounding as if he were right there in the room with her. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she realized how lucky she was to have him. Even from miles and miles away he knew exactly what she needed to hear.

As the opening bars of Close To You by The Carpenters filled the room, her tears spilled from her eyes. She lay on the bed and cried herself out, not even bothering to change out of her jeans and t-shirt before pulling the covers over herself.

As her eyelids started to droop, the sound changed. Instead of music, there was a dull rumbling, a bass sound that rattled the few coins atop the stereo. Cynthia started to panic, pulling the covers back quickly to stop the cassette deck before it ruined the precious memento of her husband’s love for her. Then, suddenly, she recognized the sound.

“His snoring,” she whispered, laughingly, to herself. Settling herself back in the bed, she turned the light out and closed her eyes. She should have realized that if he’d gone through all this trouble to make sure she could sleep, he would’ve included the one sound she was so used to hearing at night that it was impossible for her to fall asleep without it anymore.

Her last thought as she fell asleep was that she really did adore that man.

Author Profile

Alicia M Conner is a US based writer and blogger. She likes to call herself a nerdy 28 year old girl who writes for her own entertainment.'Writing is a minor form self-therapy', she preaches. Alicia doesn't share a lot of her written word, but 'The Cassette' just seemed to 'beg' to be shared, however.

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