by Michael Kun
I saw your mom at the card shop during my lunch break the other day. (That’s not supposed to be related to the last sentence.) She seems to be enjoying it so far, although I doubt she’d tell me if she weren’t. And she asked me what I thought of the Christmas gift she got you. I told her you’re going to LOVE it! (It’s killing me, keeping this to myself! This is the greatest thing in the history of mankind! “Better than the moon landing?” you ask. Yes!)
I haven’t had a super-douche sighting since he stole your mom’s TV set on Thanksgiving. I understand what you mean when you say that he wasn’t always a super-douche. But Superman wasn’t always Superman either, was he?
I just realized that I never mention my mom in my letters. That’s odd, isn’t it? Well, she’s doing great. She’s still helping out at the church a few days a week, and she still reads books like no one’s business. She joined the Book of the Month Club—twice. I’m not kidding. It’s the only way she can keep getting enough books. She has one membership under the name Cecilia Agee (which you know is her real name) and one under the name Betsy Agee (which is what she calls her car). How funny is that—her car has a membership in a book club. Anyway, she’s looking forward to seeing you when you come home. My mom, not her car. She’s very proud of you and your various achievements. And she’s so proud of the role she played in helping your mom pick out your Christmas present. (“Better than the day that guy invented the telephone?” Yes!) And she’s also looking forward to meeting Dorothy. Or, as my mom calls her, “the Girl from Catherine’s College Who Used to Call and Hang Up.”
Hope your Biology exam goes well. (See, I read the boring part of your letter.) And thanks for making me look up the word “duality.” I actually had to go all the way downstairs, walk down to the den, get the dictionary off the shelf, look the word up, then put the dictionary back on the shelf, walk back upstairs, and go back to my bedroom. I only mention that so you’ll be more careful about using words I don’t know in the future. I shouldn’t have to exert myself to read a letter.
Okay, I’m going to sign off for now. Lots of clothes to sell to boys and men in the morning.
Scott
P.S. Quote of the day. Some guy was hanging around talking about John F. Kennedy with my dad, and he asked my dad, “Where were you when Kennedy was killed?” And my dad said, “Oh, no, I don’t have an alibi!” It was actually pretty funny, but maybe you had to be there.
P.P.S. Don’t tell Dorothy, but two different girls gave me their phone numbers after the “Rock ’N’ Bowl” gig. I haven’t called either one and probably won’t, but let me tell you, they both have beautiful strides. I mean, seriously incredible strides.
P.P.P.S. “Better than when Noah built his ark?” Yes! “Better than when The Brady Bunch went to Hawaii?” Yes! “Better than going downstairs to look up the word ‘duality’?” Yes, yes, yes!
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
December 18, 1982
Dear Scott,
Just a couple of quick things. I have my last final Tuesday afternoon, but then I have to hang around for another day because I couldn’t get a ride home until Wednesday. I’m so exhausted! I just want to get home and sleep in my own bed, with Plum cuddled up next to me.
Okay, here are the quick things:
1. “Facial Tissues” is great. We all loved it. But please change it back to “Daddy Issues.” I’m completely fine with that, and the lyrics are much better than “Facial Tissues.” (Although “Blow your nose / I’ve got facial tissues” might be the greatest non sequitur in the history of rock music.)
2. Dorothy was mildly excited to be invited to visit “me.” And by “mildly excited” I mean she hasn’t stopped grinning like the Cheshire Cat since I extended the invitation.
3. I’m glad that things are working out for Todd at the store. Does he still smell like gasoline? Joking! Don’t get all sensitive on me, now. And thanks for the etiquette tip on how to treat him. I’ll pull out my manners handbook and reread the “Do the Opposite of What Samantha Drew Would Do” chapter just to make sure that I behave properly. Have a little faith, Rock Star. Geez, Louise.
4. If Dorothy is not your girlfriend, then James is definitely not my boyfriend. When he said, “You have a beautiful stride,” I really think that’s what he meant. He’s never even tried to kiss me. He may not even like girls, if you know what I mean. And he’s almost too nice. He’s nice to the point of being boring. But maybe that’s the final exams talking. Who knows? I just want to get out of here for a while. You can judge for yourself if he comes to visit. Maybe he’ll give you his phone number and the mystery of whether he’s my boyfriend—or yours—will be solved.
See you Saturday!
Love,
Cath
P.S. Enough already about my Christmas present. It can’t be any worse than what my parents got me for my last birthday.
P.P.S. Sorry to make you have to look up the word “duality.” It sounded brutal. You had to go all the way downstairs? To look at a dictionary? Poor baby.
Wishing You a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Scott,
It’s Christmas Eve. I know you’re working all day, but I wanted to drop off your present so you’ll have it in the morning. I hope you don’t hate it. It will make me proud to see you sporting my college colors. (Oops, I just spoiled the surprise. At least I didn’t mention that it’s a T-shirt. Oops, I did it again! At least I didn’t tell you there’s no Santa! Oh no, I did it again!)
You guys were great at Duffy’s last night. You TOTALLY ROCKED!
Please come over after you and your family have opened your presents. My house is still across the street. It’s the one without the TV!
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Cath
P.S. Sorry for the weird kiss. I was just happy for you. And a little drunk. But mostly happy.
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
December 24, 1982
Cath—
Wait, we’re exchanging Christmas presents? When have we ever exchanged Christmas presents? (The answer is never. We have never exchanged Christmas presents.)
It’s too late to go out and get you something, so I hope you’ll enjoy finding a nicely wrapped, slightly used box of Wheaties on your front step on Christmas morning. (Oops, I ruined the surprise! At least I didn’t mention that they’re stale. Oops, I did it again!)
Thanks for coming to the show last night. Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk afterwards, but, you know, the fans come first. And trust me, yours wasn’t the weirdest kiss I got that night. Remind me to tell you about the waitress with the red hair.
I’ll be listening for your scream when you open your mom’s Christmas present in the morning! I’ve got my window open so I won’t miss it.
Merry Christmas!
Scott
1983
JANUARY
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
January 4, 1983
Dear Cath—
I know you’re visiting Jane for a few days and that you won’t get this until you return to school, but we really should talk soon about what happened when you were home for Christmas.
We really should talk about what happened with you and James.
And what happened with me and James.
And what happened with me and Dorothy.
And what happened with you and Dorothy.
And what happened with Dorothy and James.
And what happened with you and your mom.
And what happened with you and your dad’s secretary.
And what happened with your mom and your dad’s secretary.
And what happened with you and your dad.
And what happened with your mom and your dad.
&nb
sp; And what happened with your dad and my dad.
And what happened with you and Todd.
And what happened with me and Todd.
And what happened with my dad and Todd.
And if there’s some combination of people I missed, please forgive me. I just feel like if we don’t talk soon, we’re not going to talk for a very long time. Do you know what I mean? There’s a lot to talk about. Everything is just too weird right now.
I hope you enjoy the rest of your Christmas break. Give me a call when you get this letter. You know the number.
Scott
P.S. Thanks again for the T-shirt. I’m enclosing one of the Crush T-shirts we made. Now that the band has broken up, there’s no reason for anyone to buy one anymore.
P.P.S. My mom insisted that I include a note from her with my letter, so I am doing it.
FROM THE DESK OF CECILIA AGEE
January 4, 1983
Dearest Catherine,
It was so wonderful to see you when you were in town and to meet your lovely roommate! And it’s so nice that you and Scottie have kept in touch. He gets very excited when he sees he got a letter from you! Thank you for taking the time out of your busy academic schedule for him.
I am so glad to hear that you loved your mother’s Christmas present. I was with her when she first saw it at the mall, and we were both so excited when we stumbled across it. I know things have been difficult for you with everything going on at home, and I was literally just saying to your mother that you need to “just hang in there” when we saw the beautiful, framed picture of the cat hanging from the tree limb with the words HANG IN THERE, BABY! written on it. They are truly inspirational words perfect for a truly inspirational girl!
I am sorry about what happened between Mr. Agee and your father, but I’m going to stay out of that. We can let the men work things out for themselves.
Have a great semester at school. We are all so proud of you.
Love,
Mrs. Agee
January 4, 1983
Scott,
I saw this postcard and thought of you.
I’m waiting for Jane to pick me up at the train station outside her hometown.
That was a nightmare. That was not the way I wanted to end Christmas break.
I hope you and I are okay. I’ll call you as soon as I get back to Wake.
Cath
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
January 8, 1983
Dear Scott,
Jane and I just got back to school. It was so nice to have a few days with her and her family after all the craziness at home. During the entire time I was at her house, there wasn’t a single fistfight, no one yelled at anyone, and there wasn’t a single moment when I felt like banging my head against the fucking wall. Can you imagine that? Anyway, we came back early because Jane is going to rush a sorority. She’s trying to talk me into it, but I’m not sure it’s for me. We’ll see. In the meantime, I have a whole quiet Sunday in front of me to write to you.
I got your letter as soon as I got back to school and tried to call you right away. What do you mean Crush broke up? Why would you do that? You guys were great and everything seemed to be going so well. I hope it didn’t have anything to do with that last night at Duffy’s. Or more precisely, all the stuff that happened after that last night at Duffy’s. What a mess! I’ve called you a few times, but I keep getting your mom on the phone. I love talking to her, but, seriously, I can only fake my way through the whole “Thank you for helping my mom pick out that poster for me—it’s perfect!” thing so many times. And, honestly, it’s a little uncomfortable given what happened between our dads, so I may have to pull a Dorothy and start hanging up if your mom answers the phone.
When are you ever home, anyway? I thought I’d see you a lot more over break. Between your shifts at the store, your rehearsals, my catching up with the girls, and then Dorothy wanting you all to herself, I feel like we hardly even saw each other. Your hair looks good long, by the way.
You asked a lot of questions in your letter. I can’t answer them all, but I’ll take a swing at a few of them.
I’ll start with you and me and James and Dorothy. In no particular order. Well, I guess the bottom line is that I owe everybody a big, fat apology for walking away from Duffy’s that night. I’m really sorry that you and Dorothy had to deal with James and convince him to go home. I can’t totally explain what happened. James seemed like such a nice, smart, polite guy during exams. And you saw him. He’s a little on the skinny side, but he’s a tall, good-looking guy. I assumed that something would develop between us—which is why I joked that he might be “College Boyfriend #2.” When he came to visit and we couldn’t go running because of the snow, we hung around the house all day and I realized that I just don’t like him that way, if you know what I mean. He is a nice, smart, polite guy. But he is also somehow too nice, to the point of being oddly protective and concerned about me. He almost cried when I told him how weird it felt being home alone and how my mom and I used to bake nonstop over the holidays for all the people in my dad’s office. I mean, yeah, it’s sad, but I don’t need a boy hanging around who’s going to get all weepy on me. Jesus.
At Duffy’s that night, after he had a few beers, James kept gazing at me like a sad sack and then he started touching me and massaging my shoulders in a really uncomfortable way. I don’t know if you could see that from the stage, but it was just weird. I needed to get away from him and the whole scene. I only meant to go outside to get some air. But then Todd came out and we just started walking.
I’m sorry that I left without saying anything to anyone. I know that was uncool and that everyone had to hang around and wonder if you should wait for me to come back or try to find me or whatever. Thanks for your note telling me that you’re not mad. I’ve been worried about that. Dorothy and I didn’t talk much when she drove me to the train station on her way home the next day. She claimed to be hungover. I don’t know what else you’re referring to in your letter about “what happened with me and Dorothy.” She’s not back here yet, so I don’t have a clue.
Now to try to address what happened with my mom and dad and Todd and the secretary, in no particular order—
So you already know that Christmas Eve was hard for me. Seeing my dad and his slutty secretary playing house and having to deal with her relatives left me with an enormous headache and huge knots in my stomach. I still can’t stop thinking about his hat perched on the shelf of the coat closet. Or the way the secretary kept referring to me as “her.” Or the way he kept touching her belly.
I “forgot” to take their present with me when I left after Christmas Eve dinner. Truthfully, I had no interest in receiving a gift from them, but I guess my dad really wanted me to have it before I came back to school. He and the secretary drove to our house that last night when we were all at Duffy’s. My mother was furious that he would bring “That Woman” to our house. You’ve probably gotten the whole story from your parents, but I guess my parents started yelling at each other and attracted the attention of some of the neighbors. Todd and I drove up in the middle of everything, and my dad was furious with me for being “out after curfew,” which was ridiculous since I’m in college and my mom agreed that I don’t have a curfew. Anyway, this is how I remember it: Your dad came across the street, saying something like, “Now, Jim, why don’t you just settle down. Catherine’s home safe and sound and everything’s fine.” I’m embarrassed to repeat this, Scott, I really am, but my dad wheeled around and said, “What the hell would you know about paying college tuition for your kid to hang out with a grease monkey until all hours of the night?” and then, boom, my dad was laid out on the sidewalk. I’m pretty sure your dad punched him in the face. It all happened so fast that I can’t swear to it. Maybe my dad slipped on the ice, maybe your dad pushed him, I really don’t know. It was very uncool, though.
You and I have joked about your dad beating up my dad, but when that happened, it was terrible. My mom and
I screamed and rushed to help my dad, and the secretary jumped out of the car and yelled, “You get away from him!” I don’t know if she was talking to me, or my mom, or both of us. Anyway, my mom and I both took a step back, the secretary helped my dad get up, and they hobbled to their big shiny car and drove away.
We were all stunned. No one could speak. Everyone sort of drifted back into their houses, and I walked Todd to his truck, where he summed it all up by saying, “I see what you mean about everything being different.”
My mom and I were restless and decided to take down the Christmas tree. We usually have fun with it and listen to Christmas music for one last time, but not this year. We worked like silent robots until every last light and ornament was wrapped, stacked, and back in the attic. Then we went to bed and didn’t even wake up when Dorothy came in.
The next morning, before Dorothy and I left for the train station, my mom said, “I hope your father doesn’t sue Mr. Agee. He was only trying to help.” And I know he was trying to help. I know he was, Scott, but, man, that was a mess. As much as my dad has hurt my mom and me lately, that night made me realize that he’s the only dad I’ll ever have. Super-douche or no super-douche, I don’t want to see him hurt like that again.
And something else that totally surprised me—I was scared for the baby when the Slutty Secretary jumped out of the car and came running up the slippery sidewalk. I almost yelled, “Slow down, stupid!” before she told me, or my mom, or both of us not to touch my dad.
