Dear Drew,
I don’t know how, after not seeing me for all this time, you’ve managed to remember how to ignore my bullshit. But I’m glad you have. I was very rude to you yesterday. Please forgive me.
I was never terribly good at making friends and I’ve proven even worse at keeping them. I’ve never had much use for other people. I suppose, however, that by now you know that I very much enjoy your company. That is to say that I am fond of you.
At her insistence, Margret will be keeping an eye on the house while Early and I are in Ohio. I’ve told her not to be alarmed should you come by, though, for reasons as yet unknown to me, she’s become very suspicious of you. Should she ask you for a “password”, tell her “Morris is dead”. Feel free to whisper it in her ear for effect. I’m sure she’ll get a big kick out of it.
Enclosed is the key to my front door. It will also unlock the door to the basement. Please stack those boxes piled in the living room against the far wall in the guest bedroom.
I’ve left you most of a pie and a bit of milk in the refrigerator. Feel free to make a pig of yourself.
Warmest Regards,
Morris
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We walked along the bank of the river until it was too dark to go on. Mark, who had held my hand in a vice grip since we'd started, grabbed my arm and pulled me down towards him. "What now, Jim?", he whispered fiercely.
I wrestled my arm free and, in the darkness, grabbed him by the sholders. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes", he said.
"Good", I said and knelt down, gathering him into a hug. That seemed to be enough.
I hadn't planned on navigating in the dark but here we were. 16 hours ago, I was driving to the market for mother. 16 hours ago, Maria Jensen was falling all over herself just to kiss me. 16 hours ago, Teddy was sane and Cleo was alive and our house wasn't an enormous pyre.
I released Mark from the hug and held him by the sholders, tenderly this time. "Can you remember how to get there from here? In the dark?"
Silence.
"Mark. Are you nodding?"
"Yes."
"So, yes then?"
He paused, most likely nodding again. Then, "Will you carry me?"
"Sure", I said.
"Piggyback?", he asked.
"Sure", I said.
He climbed on to my back and wrapped his tiny arms around my neck. I held his legs against my sides and stood up. "Which way?"
"We're not gonna make it, are we Jim", he said.
A comforting lie lingered on the tip of my tongue like a prayer. "We'll make it", I said. "We'll make it as far as we can."
The clouds parted a bit, bathing the land in pale moonlight.
Mark shifted about on my back, getting the lay of the land. "That way", he said finally.
I thought of asking if he was sure and then resisted. Instead, I closed my eyes took a deep breath. "Heaven help us", I whispered, and started off into the dark.
=====
Oscar,
The word is "Cancer". Say it out loud. Go on, do it. Hell, say it enough times and it'll hardly sound like a word any more. It'll hardly sound real.
Give it a shot, Oscar. It's theraputic.
If anything, at least this is interesting. I couldn't stand dying in a boring way. Wouldn't that be the saddest thing you've ever heard of? Wouldn't you want a do over? Would you just about want to change your mind about not wacking off in the shower this morning?
I never imagined that loving Molly would lead to anything subtantial or worth it. Goodness knows I've never been all that into brunettes. She just sort of fell off the truck at the right moment and I happend to be in the mood for loving someone. Someone different. Hell, even someone as different as Molly.
That's the truth of the matter. It wasn't a fairy tale. Hell, it wasn't even beautiful - not at first anyway. We ambled through the first few months like awkward teenagers. She just about flintched every time I tried to kiss her.
"Am I doing something wrong?", I'd think and never say. "Is there a proper way to love this woman?"
And now I pray to her every night and sing about her in the mornings. She's the only reason I've ever given a damn about anything. Which is to say that I love her.
And she loves me.
Even as my hair is reduced to phantom whisps. Even as I waste away to a pale husk of skin and liquids. Even as they cut me open and feed me poison to fix me and lop off my breasts. She loves me.
Do yourself a favor and visit me here. I don't want to have died without having said goodbye to my only son. And I'm pretty sure God would approve of you forgiving your unholy dyke of a mother.
I think of you everyday. Not a moment has passed wherein I haven't loved you. And, whether you decide to come or not, that will never change.
Things will get better. They always do. Now get over here and give your mother a kiss.
Love you up to the sky,
Mom
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