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This is a letter I found folded up stuck between two pages in a book I checked out from the library. The struck text was scribbled out, but it turned out to still be legible if you spent enough time looking at it. I think it's disturbing, and a little sad. I wish I knew more.


Dear Al,

You are a moron. I'm sorry. I bet every one else in the whole world has told you that too this week, but it's true. You are a dumbshit shit for brains kid that still thinks with your stupid dick. That said, you are still my friend. You were my friend before, and you’ll be my friend after, so I guess that means I think your (sic) my friend now. That said, I forgive you. I don’t know if I can forgive you, since I had nothing to do with it, but if I can forgive you, then I do.

I'm sorry the world is shitting on you right now. I read some of the articles about it, and I think they’re just trying to put the blame all on you and make you look like a monster or something. If nobody ever found out but me, I’d beat the shit out of you for even thinking about it, but since the whole world is doing that for me, I’ll just be your bro instead.

I keep thinking about how I wish I was there when the reporters were. I could have talked 'em up about you, like how you’re such a good guy, and you graduated college, and everything. I’ve got a whole speech worked out in my head, so I’m gonna write it down here so you can see what I would’ve said.

Look, Al is a really great guy, you know. I wish you all could have known him before this so you'd know that. Nicest guy in the world. Loved everybody. I think he just lost focus a little with Amber. If you had come up to me two days ago and asked me if I thought he'd try to pick up a 16-yr-old girl, I'd have told you you were crazy. You just don't do that when you janitor. Even the girls who walk around with their thongs half-way out of their pants. No matter what. If I'd known what he was thinking, I'd have smacked him up He was my friend before this, and he'll be my friend when it's all forgotten, so I guess he's still my friend now. Since everybody else hates him, must be my job to forgive him, and help him get straight.

Maybe I'll try to write that to the paper? Make people see how cool you were? We still love you, and I’m sure Jesus hasn't forgotten about you if you'd just ask. It's going to be OK.

J

P.S. Letter in her locker. Did you write that, or did you copy some book. At least you didn't touch her, right? Probably no jail time, and maybe we can find you a new job.

So little time, and so much to do. Shower, take my taxes somewhere because the deadline is more or less here...fucking H&R Block is going to be mad crowded with other last-minute people, that's gonna suck, like the DMV in the last few days of a month as registrations expire. I always seem to end up forgetting about the form they mail here, losing it, whatever, until it's too late to mail in and then I'm damned to go there myself. I eventually have to get my spark plugs checked, my car still has its bad days. I'm working 8 hours at the day job for each of the next 3 days, four hours at the night job... more of an evening job, I suppose...

And in all this, where's the real hardcore relaxation come in? The part where I just sit on my ass and play video games? The part where I make a fast-food run? Where are these things? I may or may not get around to them today. So it goes.

I received the e-mail a bit late, I think. I couldn't access a computer until Monday, so by the time I read it, everything was old news. I had a feeling something was up...that sense you get. The fact no one answered my calls on Easter was a large hint in itself. Unbeknownst to me...we had already broken up. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a surprise. We had playing at things for a long while, fighting to hold onto something that was probably doomed from the start. We are both stubborn, however. Very stubborn. And in love. That's always a dangerous combination.

I've been numb the last few days about the whole thing, and can't seem to focus my thoughts upon it all. I think perhaps what gives me the most trouble was the preamble of the letter. She has this gift for taking the world and making it beautiful. The way she sees life is absolutely incredible, and her descriptions defy belief. Her writing and photography are extraordinarily skilled, to the point where I believe she could make a living on either. Of course, I'm still in love with her, so I'm biased.

The rest of the letter I'm keeping for me, and for me alone, as to what was said, and what was requested, and what was thought. My heart sank slowly as I read it, and I realized that this was exactly what I thought it was, when I saw the E-mail. Part of me wants to fight, argue, curse, and demand. Part wishes to accept quietly, and to lie down. Yet another part is secretly relieved, and eager to see what will happen in my life that seems to change more and more daily.

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