I tried to kill you and I’m pretty sure I would’ve if Nick hadn’t shown up when he had. Come to think of it, maybe you should write a letter to Nick, thanking him for saving your ass too. I had so much hatred for you. How could you treat Cara the way that you did? It doesn’t matter. There is no excuse for the way you treated her. She didn’t deserve that but you know what? You didn’t deserve her.
I hate that she had to endure the shit you put her through but sometimes I wonder if you had been a father to her if she would be in my life. I think so. I think no matter what paths our lives would’ve taken, Cara and I would’ve found each other. That shit was written in the stars.
I’m not really certain where I meant to go with this letter. I thought about thanking you for being a shit dad, but maybe you didn’t know any better. I don’t know. I know that you missed out on a great girl and if in any point of your life you get a chance to repair your wrongs, I hope you take it. I hope you get to see that you didn’t break her you just made her stronger.
The guy who picked up the pieces and would do it again in a heartbeat,
Jake
Dear Whoever Reads These Things, (I really hope I don’t drop dead and some smartass publishes this shit)
You know what sucks worse than having cancer and knowing you very well might die? Watching the people who love you worry that you might die. Yeah, that sucks big time. Cara is afraid to leave my side. It’s as if she’s afraid if she goes to the bathroom, she will come back and I will have checked out. It’s eating away at her and I don’t know what to do to change that. She has been trying so hard to keep it together in front of me but when she thinks I’m sleeping I hear her cry. I want to open my eyes and console her because it might be the only chance I have to actually help her through her grief. But, I don’t. I let her think I’m asleep because if I open my eyes she will quickly put on her big girl panties and pretend like she wasn’t crying. Everyone should be entitled to break once in a while. Not everyone can be strong like me and write their feelings down in a journal. Christ, it just sounds gay.
Cara isn’t the only one I’ve been watching take my impending death hard. Luke is a basket case. My sickness is the one thing he can’t fix. The one thing he has no control over and it’s driving him insane. I don’t like watching my brother, who has always been so very well put together, become unhinged. Especially at my expense.
You know what I wish? Not to be cured, because there are children who are dying from my disease. Little kids die each and every day from Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, how fair would it be to ask God to cure me and not them? No, I wish for, well two things. I wish for a cure for the children that will be diagnosed long after I am gone. They deserve a fair shot at life. My second wish is that when I’m gone I can find a way for the people I love to live their lives without me.
Let’s be honest, I’m a hot commodity. It’s going to be real hard to forget Jake Lanza. (Insert eyebrow wiggle) I don’t want Cara to forget me but I want her to be able to move on without me. I don’t know how she will do that because for so long it’s been me and her against the world. Even before the sexy time, when we were just friends. Just Jake and Cara. I don’t know if the shoe was on the other foot, and I had to live without her if I really could. I’m just thankful that the roles aren’t reversed. Give me all the cancer in the world, just don’t give it to her. Don’t let her ever have to endure this.
Anyway, I might be rambling but guess what? The best part of this journal shit is that there are no rules. There is no right or wrong way to express the shit running through my head. You know what else? You know what I got out of writing in this book today? The best idea of my life. I’m going to come up with a way for the people I love to remember me but move on with their lives. I want them to know I appreciate the love they have for me but more than anything I want them to grab life by the balls and live. Live for me. Live for my memory, but live for the future that is all theirs.
Yours Truly,
The Genius of Ideas Jake
Dear Sam,
I’m writing you this letter in hopes that if I die and you still haven’t got your head out of your ass, that the poor soul who finds this book gives you this letter. Okay so I’m dead right? Or well I will be if you are reading this. I’m dead which means my happily ever after is dead too. Dead before it even had a full chance of happening. So you know what that means? Stop wasting time because no one knows when theirs is up.
I know you’re stubborn and sometimes I make excuses for it because well, your my little sister but stop being stubborn and chase your happiness. I’m not saying chase Nick, because I’d hate to think of you chasing any man, even Nick. But chase your dreams and what will make you happy. Don’t always hold back because you think people are going to talk about you or that you will be a fool. Sometimes you might be the fool. But do you know what happens after you’re the fool? You’re stronger, you’re wiser, you don’t let yourself be the fool anymore.
I know you, little sister, I know you well. You think all those years ago when Nick left, he made a fool of you. I don’t know all the details of what transpired between the two of you and I think it is better that way. What I do know is from an outsider looking in; there is something there between you. Something that can be really great. I’d like to die knowing you two finally hit it off but something tells me it might take longer than I have. If I could pick anyone in the world to take care of you and love you I’d pick Nick Foti. Hands down. No questions asked. He’s a good guy and if given the chance he’d fall in love with you bigtime. How could he not? (wink, wink)
So do your brother a favor and get it together. I bet the two of you would make some really cute blue eyed kids. (insert eyebrow wiggle) Hey, you know what? I can almost picture us having this conversation. I’d wiggle my eyebrows and you’d slap me upside my head.
Love You,
Your wise Brother Jake. (Go Ahead Laugh)
Dear Ava,
I’m sitting on one of the most uncomfortable chairs on Grandma’s front porch watching you run around outside. I don’t really know what exactly you’re playing but I think its tag with an imaginary friend. Whatever it is you are doing you are putting a big smile on my face. Watching you run around so carefree makes me see the good in the world and beauty of life. That’s big because lately all I do is think the world is this big ugly place and that whatever beauty there is in life turns to ugly.
I never want you to read this letter. This letter is just for me. Just Uncle Jake relishing in the world of Ava. I see your innocence as you run and play and I never want that to be tarnished by me. I love you, kid. I love you more than I thought I could love a little human.
You’re laughing right now and that laugh of yours makes me forget I had to crawl up the stairs because I’m too weak or that it took nearly a half hour. Your laugh is making me want to laugh. It’s making me wish I could hear that laugh for years to come.
I remember when you were first born and how scared I was. There you were this little peanut all wrapped up in pink and you scared the daylights out of me. I don’t get intimidated by people but little humans? Forget about it! I was afraid to hold you because babies like to grab things and I was sure you would wrap your little pudgy fingers around my eyebrow ring and rip it out. Little did I know that you would mostly sleep and when you did start to grab things it would be my hair and not my piercing’s. You always managed to mess with my faux hawk.
You and I found our footing and became fast friends and being your uncle became one of my favorite roles in life. You have to know how much I love you. There aren’t too many people in this world I would wear a tiara for. Actually, there isn’t a soul other than you that I’d do that for.
I wonder what you will look like in a few years. I wonder what kind of little lady you will be. I don’t think you will be a tomboy, you are too much of a princess now. I know you will be beautiful. Oh man, I wish I could see your dad when you start dating. I really ho
pe there is an afterlife and I can drop in from time to time to watch over all of you. I hope there is popcorn too. I think I wouldn’t mind sitting back, munching on some popcorn, watching from above as your dad grills your boyfriend. Oh man, please let that be possible.
You know what I do know? I know that you are going to grow up to be an amazing woman. But stay a kid for as long as possible because you’re the best kid ever.
I love you Ava.
Love,
Your Favorite Uncle.
Dear Mom,
I had a dream last night that you came into my room while I was sleeping and kissed my cheek. You whispered against my cheek that you wished you could kiss my illness away just like when I was a little boy and you kissed away all my hurts. Isn’t it strange that when you’re a little a kid you really believe your mom’s kisses heal all? The funny thing is your kisses really did heal all. Every cut, scrape, or broken bone was magically fixed by the touch of my mother.
Even now, you have that magic touch and while you may not be able to heal my illness, today you healed my spirit. I came upstairs and you were preparing my medication. You didn’t hear me creep up the stairs so when I managed to make my way into the kitchen you were singing to yourself. I didn’t know the song you were singing. I watched you for a moment, silently. It dawned on me that some of things on my bucket list I wouldn’t be able to fulfill. I will never dance with you at my wedding.
But I could dance with you today.
I walked up beside you and placed my hand on your shoulder. You jumped, startled, and I laughed. You were about to yell at me, no doubt because I had trooped it up the stairs without calling you, but then you stopped yourself. You saw my smile and couldn’t help but hide your anger. (You may have the magic touch mom, but I’m the one with the killer smile.)
I asked you if you would do me a favor. Of course you would never deny me, so I asked you to dance with me. I can laugh just thinking about the look on your face. You looked at me like I had six heads. I get it. How could the man who can barely stand, the man who just crawled up the stairs, how was he going to dance with his mom? Well, I’ll repeat your own words back to you, mom. When there is a will there is a way. I’ve still got a lot of will in me. Some days more than others, but still it’s there and today it’s screaming to figure out a way to get that mother-son dance in.
I asked you if you could pick one song to dance with me, what would it be? Without hesitation you replied, “Blessed” by Elton John. I pulled my phone from my pocket and brought up the song on iTunes. It took a minute for the purchase and download to complete before I pressed play. I placed the phone on the counter, holding out my hand to you, I asked you to dance with me.
When I was a kid, you took my hand and held it tightly in yours. I knew you’d never let go. Today, I took your hand in mine and held on tightly. I’ll always be with you, mom.
The music began and I took you in my frail arms, together we began to sway. I knew you were crying and when you dipped your head to my shoulder, I felt your fresh tears stain my shirt.
“Hey you, you’re a child in my head…Your first words have yet to be said.
But I swear you’ll be blessed…”
I listened carefully to the song you chose for us to dance to. A parent promising the world for their child. A child that they had yet to meet but already had loved more than anything. A parent promising to watch that child grow and prosper. A promise from a parent to their child, that they would do their best for that child. A promise for a blessed life.
I have been blessed, mom. I twirled you in my arms and watched you smile as I dipped you. I am blessed because I have you.
Love Always,
Your son with the killer smile and sharp dance moves Jake
Dear Luke,
I don’t know if I said it enough through the years, but I’m really proud to call you my brother. You were always a great role model and someone I hoped to be more like. I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin but it would’ve been nice to have some of your traits. Like your patience. We both know I’m the most impatient man alive. Literally, I can’t sit still for minutes, while you have the patience of a saint.
You must’ve sensed that I was losing the little patience I had waiting for the doctor to call with the results of my PET scan because you took me out this afternoon to get my mind off of it. I’m sorry I was such a dick at first and told you to go back to work. You are always at the garage, unless Ava has something scheduled, so I know it was a big move on your part.
You came in the nick of time too saving me from drowning in my sorrows. I don’t know what the fuck has come over me but lately I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate the person it makes me become. I don’t wear self-pity well, it looks like shit on me.
When you showed up, I had just had it out with Cara, putting me in an even worse mood. Seriously, I don’t know how you didn’t run away from me today. Instead, you helped me get dressed. I know you knew that it was hard for me to accept your help. I knew that the moment you tried to crack jokes and distracted me while you tied my sneakers, knowing I was too weak to bend and that I’d get out of breath. When it came time to going up the stairs, I was ready to throw in the towel. There was no way I was asking for help. You have to understand that it doesn’t matter that you are my brother, I can’t ask for help. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I don’t feel like a man. How would you feel if your girlfriend had to help you to the bathroom at night? How would you feel in the morning, when mommy came to check on you, that she also had to be the one to help you brush your teeth? I don’t know why I’m asking you, for some reason I think you thought of all these things because you wrapped your arms around me carried me up the stairs. You told me you muscles were getting flabby and lifting me was the most exercise you’d get this week. Luke, we both know nothing about you is flabby. You’re an ox. Thank you for being you and letting me hold on to the little that’s left of me.
We drove in silence. It wasn’t awkward but rather comfortable. I didn’t ask you where we were going. It didn’t matter. You rolled the windows down in your truck and the fresh air hit me, mimicking the way the wind would hit me when I rode my bike. I needed that. I didn’t know how much but somehow you did.
You chose a health food place to stop at. I stared at the sign for two whole minutes, pulling down the rim of my cap, trying to make myself unnoticeable. That’s when your patience finally snapped. You ripped the baseball cap from my head and pulled down the visor to expose the mirror, forcing me to stare at my own reflection. I will never forget the words you said either. “Cut the shit, Jake. Look at the man in the mirror. That man is someone you should be proud of. That man is the strongest person I know. You’re still here right? You’re still fighting. Be proud of that. I know I am.” You took the hat and placed it on your own head. When we were kids you used to tousle my hair, knowing it pissed me off. Today you put your hands on the sides of my face, pulled my head forward and kissed my bald head. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” You said with your voice thick with emotion.
I’ll never forget today Luke, just like I won’t forget the day I was diagnosed. You consoled me in the parking lot as I spoke the word cancer for the first time. That day I looked into your eyes and saw that you wanted so badly to trade places with me. That look has been in your eyes every day since. I appreciate it, but know I would never want you to take my place. This world would be no good without you in it. That is a fact, my brother.
I love you and thanks for the smoothie.
Jake
Dear Pete,
Man, I don’t even know where to begin. You and I have been friends for a while now and I don’t know if you really know how much I value your friendship. What originally started off as two guys interested in motorcycles, tattoos and girls, became a friendship that I will always be thankful to have had.
It seems like a lifetime ago you and I were at Rudy’s
both interested in the same girl. I don’t even remember the name of the girl or even what she looks like. Do you? It doesn’t matter. I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting these days and that girl served one purpose only, she brought us into one another’s lives. I’m pretty sure both of us forgot all about her once we started talking about ink.
You had a pretty impressive sleeve on your left arm that was still healing. The design was eye catching to say the least. The detail was impeccable and I remember thinking that I could probably do that. I fired a bunch of questions and the girl we were both interested took off without us even noticing. You took me back to the shop you were apprenticing at and you tattooed me for the very first time, inking my family name to my arm with the utmost care.
You took your time, paying attention to detail, keeping your hand steady. I appreciated your talent then as much as I do today.
People may think what we do isn’t important, they may think we’re just two guys who never did anything with their lives but we are the people who take someone’s skin, turn it into a canvas, creating a tribute in the form of art. We are the two guys at Riverdale Ink that take pride in each and every piece we design. We give each client a piece of ourselves as they pay tribute to a family member, a time in their life, we are the two guys who deliver a sentiment marked onto their flesh.
We also are the guys who get the wild and rebellious people begging us to tattoo a butterfly to their lower back, that they no doubt will regret ten years down the line when they can’t even tell you what they have on their back, but hey they were eighteen and wanted to make a statement. Those are fun too.
Jake' Journal: The Riverdale Series Companion Page 2
