Wish it were fiction
LETTER ONE, NOVEMBER 1984
Excerpts from a letter that is (unintentionally) funny and tragic. It fleshes out the character of the teenaged me. The barely fifteen-year-old me. When I write of poetry below, I really mean: crap. Because that's what we wrote. Really really bad "poetry," though it was more like horrible lyrics to terrible songs. I can still quote some of these "poems" verbatim, however, which may attest to their, umm, powerful nature.
I've deleted the long dull paragraphs about beer and waiting for the person I was "dating" at the time to call me.
What strikes me the most about this letter is that I was just a kid. Just a kid, involved in things way over my head, with no one watching over me.
Six months after I wrote this letter, part of it had come true.
COMEDY
Maureen,
Hi! I worked with your poem, and mine. I think I helped with yours, (Sorry if I changed too much.), but mine might need some editing from you. Your poem sounds better without that part about his mama dressing him funny. Also, the part about "All your movements are hot and runny" -- YUCK-E-POO!!! I dunno, that just gives me this really gross vision. What I don't like about my poem is mostly the part about rabbits, pelicans, and pelibits. Oh well. I should be down to the beach in a couple of weeks, so we can work on them then.
TRAGICOMEDY
"The rabbit died" -- I swear to God, you should go into school and start screaming "Oh no -- Jennifer's in so much trouble -- THE RABBIT DIED!!!!!!!" Can you imagine the looks on some of the peoples' faces???- Especially people who know about this summer. You should try it and see what happens. Make them believe it, just like how you told CN I was killed in a car crash. It would be a veritable laff riot. (Don't ask- it's just one of my unusual sayings). Or, even better, I could write you a letter:
Dear Maureen,
I've got some really horrible news. The rabbit died. That's right, Maureen. I'm pregnant. We're still trying to figure out the father: Is it D, J, B, the Hot-Dog-Man, or my latest, R? Oh Maureen, you've gotta help me!!!!!! My abortion is scheduled for November 6-please come to Wilmington to help me through the operation.
Your pal and bestest buddy,
JLC
When you think about it, that's not so funny. I could easily be writing you a letter like that. God, that's scary!!! One thing I know I don't want to be and that's pregnant!!! Never, ever wish that on me, 'cuz I just might kill myself if that happened. (Geez, that would make it two sins!!!) Let's get off this morbid subject!!!
THE LONG SIGN-OFF
Your pro-abortion, pro-premarital (and teen) sex, pro-birth control, pro-de-manhoodizing for D and Y, great pal and BESTEST BUDDY,
JLC
LETTER TWO, AUGUST 1985
I wrote this letter sometime after the night we stole my grandfather's car, the night that ended our friendship. The date on it -- 4 August 1985 -- surprised me, since I had assumed the auto theft was in spring. Most of 1984-87 is a murky blur for me, though.
I probably wrote this assuming that Maureen's mother would read it. I addressed it to Bobohead #2, with my return address going to Bobohead #1.
I'd call most of this tragedy.
Maureen,
Hello. I thought I'd write a letter, since I have this distinct feeling that your mother would hang up the phone if I tried to call.
Why in the hell did you wait until this morning to tell her the fantastic news? She must have really bitten your head off! You know, she told Pop-pop that he should have you arrested. :-) I think she's overreacting just a tad. The woman must really hate me. I don't know. Right now, I am in a state of shock. At least I've stopped crying. (Kind of. Your mother triggered my tear ducts all over again.)
Hoh gee. Life's a bitch and then you die. Oh, your mother told me not to tell you this, but she hasn't exactly done me any favors lately and I really can't do a thing about what she thinks about me anymore, so I'm going to tell you after I finish this incredibly long sentence. She asked me if we used illegal drugs -- such as pot -- down here. I like your mom, but geez, how can you live with her? I'd go nuts within a week. Then again, I'd go nuts with any parental authority (or over-protectiveness). Oh well. I guess I've made a permanent enemy.
I know this letter is pretty flip (look it up if ya don't know what I mean), but I really feel guilty about the whole thing. I mean it's not just "Awww shucks, we got caught! Better be careful next time" (as if we'll ever see each other again for the rest of our natural lives). But I really regret it. I hate hurting people. And your mother really made me feel like scum of the earth. I mean, I already feel that way! Seriously, Maureen, do you feel in the least bit guilty?
Oh -- there's another tape of yours down here. I'll probably mail it to you or drop it off sometime (as you dodge the bullets from your mother).
You know, I think each other's parents think that the other corrupted the other. Huh? That made no sense! What I mean is that your mother thinks I'm a bad influence on you, and Pop-pop thinks you're a bad influence on me. I think we're a bad influence on each other. Like when we get together, we ignore all the rules. Oh well. I wish I could shut up about the whole stupid thing!!!
In fact I guess I'll finish this letter. Write back! I'll probably call you tomorrow anyway. BYE!
Your bestest, stupidest, scum of the earthiest, jerkiest, not to mention sexiest (ha ha ha) BUDDY!!!
Jennifer
These letters are breaking my heart.