by Michael Kun
Anyway, I’m looking forward to one of our classic bowling evenings together. I’ll call you at the store when I get home. I promise not to talk about myself the whole time if you promise not to yell “There it is!” every time you get a strike. It’s obnoxious, and not in a way that grows on you over time. Trust me.
Love,
Cath
P.S. Happy Valentine’s Day! Or Happy Pal-entine’s Day, in our case!
CEDAR CREEK HOSPITAL
February 10, 1983
Dear Cath,
I’m assuming we’ll talk or I’ll see you before you get this, but I feel like writing this down anyway. I tried to reach you half a dozen times tonight, but Dorothy said you were out for the night. Hopefully, we’ll talk before you head up here for the weekend.
By the time you see this, you’ll understand why this is being written on Cedar Creek Hospital stationery. For all the times we have joked about how my dad was going to have a heart attack because of his weight and his temper, it finally happened yesterday. And it happened at work, while I was out on a long lunch break because we were so slow. I usually take only half an hour, but yesterday I took two hours because nothing was going on. So while I was out screwing around town, my dad was spread out on the floor. The mailman was the one who found him, and I got there just as the ambulance was arriving. They don’t know how long he was out, and the doctors aren’t telling us much right now. He’s in the hospital in the intensive care unit, and we’ve been able to see him for only a few minutes at a time.
My mom is hysterical, as you might imagine. I’m a little less hysterical, only because I’m trying to hold it together. He’s got to pull through this or else I don’t know what we’re going to do. I know this is going to sound like a cliché, but I never really told him how much I care about him and respect him, or how much he’s taught me, because guys don’t talk that way. I’ve been a spoiled, whiny brat. And the last thing I said to him when I left the store for my lunch break was, “Go ahead and fire me, fat man.” You see, I told him I was going to take a long lunch break because I was bored stiff just standing around in an empty store. He said, “You may not have a job when you get back, lazy ass,” and I said, “Go ahead and fire me, fat man.” How about that for some famous last words? Or should I say that they had better not be my famous last words because I don’t know how I’m going to live with that if they are. I don’t think they will be—he’s a tough guy and I think he’ll pull through—but what if that’s the last thing I say to him. I swear that if he pulls through this, I’ll change. Hand on Bible.
Dorothy offered to cancel her trip home so she could come up here to be with me this weekend, but I told her not to. The person I really want to talk with is … you. Please take this in the spirit it is intended, but I don’t know what I would ever do if something happened to you. I’m so sorry for all the stupid, jerky things I’ve ever said or done over the years, particularly this past year. I’m so, so sorry, Cath. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. So get your bony ass up here already!
Man, this sucks. The doctors and nurses barely look at us when they walk by. That can’t be good, can it? Or maybe that’s just the way they do their jobs.
I’ll talk to you soon.
Scott
P.S. Not that it’s really important in the grand scheme of things, but I finally got the straight story from Dorothy about her grades. She really did get C’s and D’s, which is what she told me originally. She says she lied to you and said she got B’s because she didn’t want you to think she was stupid. And she says she lied to her parents and said she got straight A’s because that’s all she ever got before and she didn’t want her parents to worry about her or pull her out of school. I guess it all makes sense, if you think about it. And, considering everything else that’s going on right now, I don’t really care. She’s a good person, even if she’s Snickers.
P.P.S. This is going to be a terrible birthday. And if my dad doesn’t pull out of this soon, it will be the worst birthday in the history of mankind.
P.P.P.S. “Bony” was supposed to be funny. It was not a criticism. I am sure you have the same number of bones back there as everyone else.
He just died, Cath. Please get here as soon as you can.
Scott—
It’s about 4 a.m. I woke up kind of cold on your couch, so I’m going to sneak out the basement door and go home. I’m glad we had some time to reminisce with your mom and your uncles last night. Your dad was an amazing guy. He made us laugh, even in this sad time. I’ll never forget his kindness and the hard candies. And I’ll never forget how much he loved you and your mom. You know that, right? He really loved you, Scott. Take a look at how happy he was in the photos from our graduation. No one can fake a smile that big.
I’m sorry I fell asleep before we finished talking about your role in the funeral. Everyone will understand if you decide that you’re not comfortable speaking. Please don’t stress out about that. Your idea of playing a Stones song during the ceremony is perfect. Here’s my top 3 countdown from the songs you practiced last night/this morning:
3. “Lady Jane” would be too much for your mom to bear at the funeral. Maybe save that one for after all the guests have left and you’re just sitting around with family at home.
2. The sound of “Fool to Cry” was right, but the lyrics are just a little off. Your dad’s Korea buddies will be hearing the words in their heads, and they don’t really fit the situation.
1. “As Tears Go By” (at least the part I heard before falling asleep) was beautiful. That gets my vote.
Whatever you choose, I’ll sit next to you and pretend to turn the music sheets, and we’ll get through it together, okay?
See you in a few hours.
Love you,
Cath
IN TIMES OF SADNESS, KNOW THAT YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
This was the only card I could find that didn’t have a gauzy picture of a flower on the front, or of people walking in the sand. None of those seemed right for your dad.
Your father was a great man, and he will be missed.
Love,
Cath
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
February 16, 1983
Dear Cath,
I wanted to write a quick note and leave it in your suitcase so you’ll find it when you get back to school. (Don’t worry, I didn’t go through your underwear. But what’s the deal with the ones with the koala bears on them? You’re not Australian.)
Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for being here these past few days and for helping out with everything. I know you missed some of your classes so you could stay here, and it meant a lot to me and to my mother.
And thank you for being so polite when my uncle thought that we were dating each other. He’s a nice guy, but let’s just say that he’s not the type of guy who would understand having a girl friend who isn’t a girlfriend. Anyway, you should take it as a compliment that he likes you so much.
I’m sorry I won’t be there in person to say good-bye to you—again—but I have to go to the store early to open up and try to get things in order, now that I’m apparently the manager. Hooray for me, as you would say. Hooray for me.
Talk to you soon.
Thanks again.
Scott
P.S. Sorry you got stuck spending Valentine’s Day here.
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
February 16, 1983
Dear Scott,
How are you and your mom doing?
I can’t stop thinking about you and the funeral and the gathering back at your house. The fact that almost everyone in town showed up was such a huge tribute to your dad and your family. It was amazing to see so many of your parents’ friends, neighbors, church members, our friends and their parents, old teachers, just about everyone from town coming out to pay their respects. It was an incredibly sad servic
e because your dad was so young and he had so much more life to live, but it was also really inspirational to see how much people loved and respected your dad. And when all the men opened up their suit jackets to show the “Agee’s Men’s Clothing” labels inside? Incredible. Just incredible.
I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through. There were so many things, big and small, that happened over the last few days. When I got back to school today, I got the letter that you wrote to me from the hospital. Please don’t beat yourself up over the “fat man” comment. It was just banter. He’d just called you “lazy ass,” and you were both kidding with each other, right? That’s what people do. We’ve just heard so many great stories about your dad, and the common theme in all of them was that he loved to joke around. The fact that you guys were calling each other names and joking around says so much about how your relationship had changed since high school. He’s gone way, way too soon, and I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, but you are really lucky that you didn’t go away to college. You had six months of working side by side with your dad, which you easily could have lost to writing useless term papers and drinking cheap beer and chasing sorority girls in their sweatpants. It may not feel great right now, but maybe eventually you’ll like the fact that you called him “fat man” right before leaving the store for lunch.
I just can’t imagine the jumble of thoughts going through your head. I mean, my head was absolutely buzzing the entire ride back to campus. I went straight to James’s room and we went for the most amazing run this afternoon. The weather was cold and the days are just starting to get a little longer, so we just ran and ran. I was trying to process things from the weekend and the funeral, and every time I felt like crying, I just ran faster. James even said, “Damn, what have you been eating?” (And seriously, what is it with old ladies, casseroles, and deviled eggs? I’ve never eaten so much in my life. The truth is that I think my appetite came back because I wasn’t obsessing about myself and my problems for a while. Imagine that.) I was thinking about when Todd came through the receiving line and hugged you and your mother. Despite whatever happened between Todd and your dad, you could tell how much he liked your dad. And your Uncle Bob putting his hand on your Uncle Phil’s shoulder when his voice cracked and it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to go on. And my dad sitting in the last pew. He didn’t want to bother your mom, but I hope you know that he came to the service because he really did like and respect your dad.
And I’ve thought a lot about your guitar playing. “As Tears Go By” was beautiful, Scott. It was really, really beautiful. Oh, I meant to ask if one of the tunes that you played back at the house was “Um.” I don’t remember hearing any song with a chorus that goes, “Um um um um,” though.
Write soon so I know you are doing all right, okay? I’ve got to get to the library to catch up on some stuff, and I have to decide if I want to start working out with the track team. This came out of left field, but James and I flew by some guys during our run today and they paced us back to our dorm. Turns out they were the assistant coaches of the girls’ track team. They have spots open because there are some girls out with injuries, and they said that they were impressed by our pace. I can’t lie, I was pretty flattered, and they were cool about everything, telling me that they are a fairly new Division I program, so it’s not super competitive, but since I run every day anyway, why not come out and meet some of the girls? I’ll have to see how it would work with my Pizza Pan hours and all that, but I’m intrigued.
Anyway, I didn’t mean to go on about stupid college stuff. I’ll call you soon, okay? Please write and let me know how you are doing.
Much love to you and to your mom,
Cath
P.S. Not that this is anywhere near the top of your list of things to care about right now, but Dorothy is oddly “miffed” (to use her word) about not being asked to travel to the funeral. I would not have thought that supporting a lifelong friend in a time of grief could cause jealousy, but apparently it does when dealing with a Snickers bar.
P.P.S. James asked me to tell you how sorry he was to hear about your dad. You know James. He got a little misty about it.
P.P.P.S. As for your comment in your letter about Valentine’s Day, who would I rather spend it with? Other than Scott Baio or Timothy Hutton.
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
February 17, 1983
Dear Scott,
I just reread the letter you sent me from the hospital and realized there was something that I forgot to respond to.
You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, too.
Love,
Cath
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
February 20, 1983
Dear Cath,
Tell me something I don’t know.
Scott
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
February 21, 1983
Dear Cath,
Do you ever have one of those days where you feel like you’re walking through a weird dream, where nothing feels right and time seems to move in really strange ways? I feel like I’ve had a week of them in a row. Everything has been a blur. I know I brushed my teeth and shaved this morning because I can taste the toothpaste and my face feels relatively smooth, but I honestly have no memory of brushing my teeth or shaving. None at all. And I must have eaten breakfast and lunch, but I don’t remember where I ate or what I ate. People talk to me, and I respond, but immediately afterwards, I have no idea what they said or what I said. The worst part of it is that I have no idea when this feeling will end and when everything will start feeling normal again, or if this is what normal is going to feel like. If this is now what normal feels like, it totally and completely sucks.
I’m sorry if what I’m about to say is exactly the same as what we talked about when you were here, but I really don’t have any memory of what we talked about other than that you said some nice things and made me feel a little better, at least for a while. But I honestly cannot believe that I will never see my dad again. I just assumed he would always be around because, well, he always was around. He seemed like he was invincible, like nothing could kill him, like that Rasputin guy we learned about in history class. My dad was shot in Korea, he was in at least two car accidents, he had gout in his left foot, his eyesight was shot, but nothing could kill him. Or that’s what I thought. I always assumed that someday I’d get married and have kids, and now I’m sad to know that my dad will never get to meet my wife or my kids, and they’ll never get to meet him. And I always assumed I’d do something decent with my life, and now I’m sad knowing that he’s never going to see me do it. The last thing he’s going to remember about me is that I was a bum who didn’t go to college and was still living in his house and working in his store, and occasionally playing some bad songs on my guitar.
My mom is doing worse than she’s letting on. I know she and my dad argued, a lot and sometimes very loudly, but they always loved each other. She says my dad was the only man she ever loved, and I think that’s true. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse for her. I know I’m supposed to be at home to support her, but I have to admit that I went to the movies last night instead of going home just because I didn’t want to watch her crying all night. I’ve run out of things to say to her, and sometimes it makes me mad that we talk about how she lost her husband, but we never talk about how I lost my dad. That probably makes me a bad person, but I just couldn’t do it again last night so I just went to the movies. And I couldn’t even tell you what movie I saw. Seriously. I have a recollection of sitting in a movie theater, and at some point the lights went back on and I was sitting there with an empty popcorn container and an empty soda cup, and then I went home.
This Sunday, we
’re going to go through my dad’s closet and give some of his clothes away to charity. None of it would fit me or my uncles, and it just seems like the right thing to do rather than throw it away or put it in storage. But I’m going to bet that my mom is going to change her mind and will want to keep his clothes around, at least for a while.
A lot of people have been coming by the store to say hello and pay their respects. I don’t know if they’re doing it to make me feel better, but they all seem to find something to buy while they’re there. You’ll never guess who one of the people was who came by—Donnie Dibsie. I can’t say I was too excited to see him, but it ended up that he drove back from Harvard just to come to the store and pay his respects. When I thanked him and said he didn’t need to do that, he said, “Of course I did—we’re Tornadoes.” I swear that I almost started bawling, but then he ruined the whole thing by saying, “And I’ll always be your class president.” What a Donnie Dipshit thing to say. But, still, it was very nice of him.
Other than the holidays, we actually had one of our biggest weeks in terms of total sales. The funny thing is that I can tell you exactly what my dad would say about that: “If I knew that would happen, I would have kicked the bucket a long time ago!” I’m counting that as the Quote of the Day even if he didn’t actually say it. And if you haven’t already heard, I hired Todd to come back and work at the store. I couldn’t handle it on my own, and Todd already knows the routine and the merchandise. I just need to get him to understand that the employee discount is for employees. If it were for all the employee’s friends, they would call it “the employee’s friends’ discount.”
