Our eyes meet.
He knows that’s not entirely true. Things don’t always work out. But I understand his sentiment. “Send him your letter, and let’s see.”
I listen. I uncrumple the letter and send it. Now it’s out of my hands.
ChapterSeventeen
Alec
September 28th
Dear Alec,
First of all, I can’t believe you tackled a naked guy. I mean… ick. And ever since I read that story, I can’t help wondering about his naughty bits. Were they intact, or did they fall off?
Wait. Don’t answer that. Anything you say about this now would only add to my curiosity. Let’s leave it where it lies.
Crap. Was it left there on the ground—you know, his franks and beans?
That poor dumb-dumb. I assume he was a newbie or whatever you call new recruits. Plebes? Or is that a different branch of the military?
Things have been pretty uneventful here. No streakers around here, sadly. Did I say sadly? I meant fortunately.
The trees are starting to change colors. Fall is upon us. It’s my favorite season. I love the feel of it. The smell of pumpkin lattes and cinnamon in the air is The Best. The cooler temperatures are a bonus, too. Because of that, I can finally get all my sweaters and tights out of my closet to wear.
Then there’s Halloween, the best holiday ever. I’ve already started making a list of possible costume ideas. It’s getting fairly extensive. For the last three years, I’ve gone to a majorly big Halloween party with my best friend, Kimmy. It’s one her boss throws in his gigantic house in Lincoln Park.
In the past, Kimmy and I tried to create something like a couple’s costume, for example, salt and pepper shakers, things of that nature, but most of the time, we think of our own. They have a costume contest with a pretty cool trophy as the prize at this shindig. I’ve never won, but I was runner-up one year. I went as a table; my head was the jack-o-lantern in the center of the table. It was funny because I’d just sit in one spot, silent. People would set their wine glasses on me until I scared the crap out of them by speaking. I lost to a store-bought costume. Can you believe that? Personally, I think those should be banned from costume contests. The winner’s costume should be original, handmade, and one of a kind. Thoughts?
If I can find a pictures of some of my costumes, I’ll send them along for your entertainment.
As for Vicky and Anthony, no, I still haven’t seen them. I ran into my aunt in the city one day and asked about them, but she was mum, which is odd because usually my aunt goes on and on about Vicky. Do you think she’s pregnant? Would that be something that’d upset Anthony? I only ask because some guys don’t want kids, and they did just get married. Maybe it’s too soon, or maybe it has nothing to do with kids.
Sorry I’m no help, but I’ll keep asking around.
Your job sounds interesting and very dangerous, especially about the part working in Afghanistan. Did you enjoy doing that? Duh. That was probably a dumb question, wasn’t it? What was it like for you over there?
I’m not sure if you were wanting advice about your future. I’ll just stay out of it unless you expressly ask for my feedback.
As for my job, yes, I telemarket. I can give you a hint about what we sell. “Hello, Mr. Marchesani. Have you considered your part in saving the planet? Do you want to do your part to help the environment? If the answer is yes, let’s talk solar panels.” The job sucks balls, Alec. I started as a temp employee over a year ago, and I’m still there. I had hoped to find something else, but it sort of works great due to the time I need for training Shep. The hours are fairly flexible, mostly evenings because that’s when people are home so I can harass them about solar panels. I hate bothering people like that, but it’s a paycheck, and I need those.
Okay, I’ve just checked your letter for questions I missed. I mentioned Shep. He’s about a week away from graduating. After that, his name will go to the organization that will find a suitable vet for him. I try not to think too much about that part of it, to be honest. I always grow attached to my pups. I miss them when they’re gone. Then it takes me about eight months to a year to save up enough money to buy another one. It’s an expensive hobby, but I wouldn’t change anything, not even how sad it is when my pups move on. I know they’re going to help someone so much that it makes up for any of the sadness. I’m going to put a current photo of Shep in this letter for you. He’s grown a lot, as you can see.
My dad is doing well—feisty and nosey, as usual. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know if you knew this, but he’s a high school English teacher. Now that school’s back in session, he’s focused on that, which is good. The summers off for him are great, but I think it gives him too much time to think about my mom. She was a teacher too, in case you were curious. She taught fourth grade. They always dreamt of traveling across the U.S. together on their summers off after Bobby and I were old enough to stay by ourselves. They never got to do that.
Okay, I’ll end with a few questions for you. This is about your favorites. What is/are your favorites? Here’s the list: food, color (and why is it your favorite color), book, movie or television show, band or musician, and your favorite song?
Take care and be safe out there amongst the naked army dudes,
Matilda
I stare downat the letter, and that damn smile is still stuck to my face. God, she’s funny. She surprised the hell out of me too. The first part, her response to the story of that idiot I tackled. I’m tempted to write her back to inform her that the man did lose part of his, what’d she call it, his franks and beans? It got infected due to the dirt and gravel and… well, I’ll leave it at that.
Aw, what the hell, I’ll tell her. She’ll probably get a kick out of it.
* * *
“What’s that?”Ben asks as I slide the blue envelope into my pocket. “Is it one of her letters?”
