I almost get my nose broken and embarrass myself in front of girls who are infinitely cooler than I can ever hope to be.
When I got home, it was late. I thought Mom would be in bed and Peter would be out when I came in the front door, but no. They were sitting on the couch together, watching a rerun of one of those Love Boat movies and passing a box of Lorna Doone cookies back and forth.
They didn’t notice me coming in. Two of the passengers on the show were about to make out, and Mom and Peter were both leaning forward, staring intently at the screen.
“Hi,” I said.
They glanced up. “Hi, sweetie,” Mom said, pulling another cookie out of the box.
“Hey, Shar.” Peter pointed to something on the screen and elbowed Mom. She laughed.
“Well, I guess I’ll go upstairs,” I said, though they hadn’t asked. “I should write to my pen pal.”
Peter half waved, but Mom didn’t seem to notice I’d said anything. She was reaching for another cookie.
This is embarrassing to say, but…sometimes I’m not even sure I fit in my own family. My brother seems to like me, most of the time, but my mom… I don’t know how much she wanted to have me in the first place. She always used to talk about how hard it was having two babies at the same time. Maybe she would’ve been happier if it had just been her and Peter all along.
Sorry to suddenly get morose. Lately I’ve just been feeling kind of… I don’t know. Lost, or something.
Yours truly, Sharon
P.S. Right, another question. My favorite Bible story is, um… Jonah and the whale. I used to love going whale watching. I always imagined jumping off the boat and hanging out inside a whale for a few days. I don’t think I realized how much that would have sucked.
P.P.S. I laughed when I saw you crossed out “Shit” in your last letter. You don’t need to cross out curse words. I can handle them. How about we make another pledge? Let’s not cross anything out, or go back and reread our letters before we send them anymore. Let’s just write what we want to write and not worry about it. All I do is worry most of the time, and it would be nice to have a break, you know? I’m going to start by not rereading this letter, even though I probably wrote a lot of embarrassing stuff.
Friday, August 12, 1977
Dear Sharon,
Thanks for that letter. It was fun reading about the show you went to. That’s the kind of thing you usually put in your diary? My diary isn’t nearly as interesting.
I wish I could come to a show with you someday. I’m sorry you almost wound up in the middle of some guys having a fight, though! I was scared for you just reading it.
And I love your idea about not crossing things out or going back to reread our letters before we send them. There’s basically no one I’m totally up front with that way, so it’ll be a whole new experience for me.
Anyway, sorry, I know this letter’s coming in a strangely shaped package. I made something, and…well, there’s no one I can show it to here. My friends probably wouldn’t understand it, and my family definitely wouldn’t. I thought you might, though. I’m nervous sending it to you, since I don’t usually show my art to anyone, but you did something different in your last letter to me, too, so…like you said, here goes.
This is my newest collage. I just finished it. I’ve been spending almost all my time lately working on that event I told you about, and it’s helped to have something else to do that I actually enjoy.
It probably still needs work. The background isn’t quite right, so I might redo it after I’ve gotten more practice crosshatching. The ocean turned out okay, especially the waves, but the bridge doesn’t look the way I wanted it to. It’s a photo of the Golden Gate Bridge I found in a magazine. You know that obviously. It’s