December 31, 2024
december 31, 2024
Shelly,
I tried procuring a quill, ink, parchment, and even a candelabra to really set the scene for this magical moment, but alas, nothing in Mariner’s Cove offers such things. Except I did find a candelabra at Feather & Sage, along with incense and a number of crystals. I could have waited for an order to come in, but I am too impatient. If I can’t have your number, then I wanted to write back to you right away.
It’s good to hear from you…but bad to hear you still remember the nickname. Jakey Jake is just as silly as it was when we were fifteen. I think my ears are still ringing after how loudly you would squeal it, like I was a prince and you were pronouncing my entrance as I stepped into room 702 with my saxophone case and my Jansport. It’s been over a decade, can’t we think of something new?
I have many questions, but I’ll start with my long sad story, simply because you asked.
When Mom died, I think I lost all sense of purpose. After eating that frozen pizza, I knew I couldn’t return to college, which is rather disappointing when I look back on it all. I had one semester left. I should have finished. Don’t worry, I finished my final semester online last year, and BU gracefully gave me my degree. I feel like an imposter every time I hold it. Especially now that I’m doing nothing with engineering. I work in construction now. Mostly house renovations.
I didn’t finish my semester, but I did go back to my apartment in Boston. I lived off campus, and I used the savings I had to coast through. At first, I told myself it was a break, that I’d give myself time to grieve, then I would hop back into things the next semester. But six months wasn’t nearly enough time. Things went south fast, and I did it all in the name of “grief” and making myself feel better.
I let my depression drown me. When my lease was up, my roommate told me to move out. I was angry at him at the time, but looking back, he was absolutely right. So I came home, back to the house that was apparently mine now. The house that smelt like Mom, where she would host those big band dinners. Remember when we’d pitch tents in the backyard and camp out all weekend? Anyway, I was home alone, using drugs until I got sick and found myself in a hospital. Then I stopped, cold turkey. I haven’t touched anything in two years, but I haven’t really felt like myself until recently.
Being in the house isn’t helping though, and I knew I needed to find a new place. Which brings me to why I’ve been cleaning it out.
I guess the story isn’t as long as I made it out to be, but it’s a lot. They were my mistakes, and I have to live with them. My therapist says that grief manifests differently for everyone, and that I can’t hold it against myself that mine pulled me in that direction. But I do. I’m angry at myself for what I did, for how I handled the past six years. I wish I could take it all back and try again. I wish I’d actually spoken to you at the funeral.
So…Colchester Academy, huh? I do remember that band being full of complete assholes. Or I think we called them bandholes? I loved seeing their faces crumble at States when we beat them, and I am not ashamed to say how satisfying it is to know how downhill that band has gone since then. No offense.
Speaking of States, yes. My chest was painted. It was actually painted all day. It’s a senior tradition for the guys. Whoever wins the beer pong tournament the night before has the honor of being “stallioned.” You know, wearing the mascot on your chest with pride. So it was only me.
I’m happy to hear you’re still a blonde. I agree, I think it suits you.
Now…how did you end up at Colchester?
Do you miss California?
And who in the fuck did you make out with on the band bus?
Jake (not Jakey Jake)