Donorboy (20 page)

Hey. I don't have anything to tell you about your old man. As you know, my relationship with my own is not in the greatest shape, so I will just say I feel your pain on this issue and leave it at that.

But you don't really give a shit what I say about that, because you gave the game away with your little “offhand” question about Kimberley. I swear to God, I've known you for fifteen years and you think you can fool me with something that lame?

Okay, so Allie told me that Kimberley called her and said that you “give good e-mail,” which somehow feels more disgusting than it actually is. And Allie says she thinks Kimberley has a crush on you. There. Happy? “Gives good e-mail.” Jesus. If I get out of this without puking, it will be some kind of miracle.

By the way, Kimberley arrives in thirty-two days, if you want to start making little x's on your little calendar.

—Dave

Dear Fluffy,

I have actually been too busy to write, which I guess is good. I went with Kate to Child Soldiers Run Amok practice, and it was kind of embarrassing because they were all telling me how much they like my lyrics or whatever, and the cute lead singer was like, oh, you are so talented, how long have you been writing, blah blah, and I had to make something up because I didn't want to be like I used to write a lot of poems in middle school but I haven't written anything in six months but I still pulled out something better than Satan's Playpen.

So then Kate and I sat there like these total groupies which I guess we are except for without the having sex with the band part and they played a bunch of songs including “Satan's Playpen” and “Girl in a Cage” which totally rocks if I do say so myself. Not that I had anything to do with the rocking part, but I felt really proud and excited and kind of happy even though Ash the lead singer was paying way more attention to Kate than me which okay she is two years older and way better looking and actually has boobs but is not the high priestess of metal which is what Sean called me.

But anyway, it was fun. I talked to Lisa the next day and she was like this is so good for you, and I was kind of like did you hear the part about how I was all jealous of my best friend, but she was like, well, you have something else that you can call your own besides your grief.

I don't know. It's one poem that some guys who write bad lyrics for themselves decided to use for a song. It's kind of like Sean getting all into the cooking—everybody wants me to find my Bliss but I am just trying stuff. Well, whatever. It's way better than everybody being freaked out about how I am wrecking my life.

And speaking of which I am out of math class which I guess means no early decision to Harvard, ha ha, even though Sean when I said that said no you just write some essay about how much you learned from your grief and blah blah and they will ignore this year. Which would be okay if I wanted to go to Harvard but I totally don't.

Went out to dinner with Karen which means I guess Sean ate frozen burritos again. I was pretty afraid that she was going to be all weepy or whatever, but we just talked about stuff and she did give me the vagina power speech but it was way less painful than I thought it might be. It was actually kind of nice, I mean, whatever, it's not like I'm going to talk to Sean about this (anyway, what does he know, he just beat off into a cup, which is actually just as gross or maybe grosser even than thinking about moms having sex), so it was nice to feel like I could maybe talk to Karen or ask her something and she wouldn't freak out on me. But I did want to make her a bingo card that said “sex positive feminism” on it because I guess that is the official name for vagina power.

So I am having a good week Fluffy which is I guess an occasion but of course I am still worried because both Karen and Sean are starting to make noises about Christmas, which I totally don't want them to have their stupid tug of war over me again and also stupid holidays are going to remind me of everything. I kind of just wish I could skip it completely, just pretend it's not happening, but I guess even if I could get Sean and Karen to agree I am going to see George Bailey every time I turn on the TV so oh well.

I don't know. I feel like some good stuff is starting to happen—like no more math homework until summer school, which I wasn't going to do any anyway, but now I can stop feeling guilty about it—and I think Christmas is just going to screw me up again, like I am just going to fall right back to punching the shit out of hockey players or something. Maybe I should write a metal song about punching hockey players.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Xmas

Hello! Well, I am writing with my Rosalind update. As you may or may not know, Rosalind is some kind of heavy metal songwriter now, as a band known as Child Soldiers Run Amok has put one of her poems to music. She showed me the poem—it's pretty alarmingly dark, but I am taking the point of view that if she can work those feelings out in verse, she'll stop punching hockey players.

In any case, I am eagerly awaiting the demo CD with the song on it.

I spoke to Rosalind's math teacher, who informed me that Rosalind could only pass if she got nothing but 100s for the rest of the year, which seems incredibly unlikely, so I did some persuading with the administration to get Rosalind into a cooking class during that period. She is going to do math in summer school. Apologies if she's told you all or any of this. What I have noticed in the last week or so is that Rosalind seems to be doing very well—that is to say, while she still retreats to her room early and often, she no longer appears to be moping around constantly. When she learned that the band was going to use her poem, she came out of her room smiling and practically jumping around—happy and enthusiastic in a way that I have read about in Eva's letters but never seen personally before then. It was a really wonderful moment.

I'd love to hear what you've noticed recently, or if you got any pertinent information at dinner the other night. I'd also like to know what kind of plans you are making for Christmas. My father is coming to town, and I am in the process of trying to set things up, and I thought you and I should touch base around this issue so that we don't end up with overlapping and competing plans. Thanks, and I will talk to you soon.

—Sean

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Xmas

Sean,

Thank you for the update. I would say that Rosalind seemed upbeat and chatty at dinner the other night in a way that reminded me of her old self. I am optimistic. I have mixed feelings about the whole poetry/metal thing. You know how I feel about the negativity in that music, but I am glad that something made Rosalind happy. I hope it's a phase and there are no skull tattoos on the horizon.

Thanks for asking about Christmas. I have once again ducked out of the family gathering in Cincinnati, so obviously want to see Rosalind during this time. As you might know, Sandy and Eva always threw a well-attended Christmas dinner, and I do think it would be good for Rosalind and, yes, me too, for her to have access to that tradition.

I have, in the past, taken one for the team in the name of maintaining this tradition: Once I sat next to this guy Raoul who—well, had we not been at Christmas dinner, I think I would have forsaken my nonviolent convictions and strangled him. Indeed, though you and I have had our moments, I would rather share a desert island with you than another meal with him.

The spirit of the meal, though of course it was not explicitly Christian, was always one of goodwill and forgiveness, and so if you'd like for the three, or, I suppose, four of us to do Christmas together, I think that would be a good addition to the tradition.

Jesus, that's a really backhanded invitation. I mean it as an olive branch, but I'm not very good at this stuff. So let's all do Christmas together, assuming you want to.

—Karen

Dear Dad
,

Thanks for your letter, and I am sorry it has taken me so long to respond I hope you are still planning to come up for Christmas. You made quite an impression on Rosalind She has been talking a great deal about “following her bliss.” She always says it sarcastically, but she says it so often that I believe she is really pondering it. I will say, also, that I enjoyed seeing you and having a real conversation and perhaps beginning to build a relationship as adults. I appreciate the apology, and I promise not to batter you with my old resentments as long as you live up to your end of the
Tarkus
bargain
.

Speaking of music, Rosalind's bliss apparently includes being a songwriter, as some metal band that her friend's cousin is in put one of her poems to music. The words are alarming, and the music is something I might have enjoyed when I was sixteen that just made me grind my teeth. I suppose that is the point. The poem is depressing and seems to me a pretty transparent metaphor for the author. (It's called “Girl in a Cage.” I am reminded about how John Lennon said he eventually figured out that he'd written “Crippled Inside” about himself. Well, perhaps comparing Rosalind to John Lennon indicates wishful thinking about her musical prospects, but I think the song is more about her than she realizes.) I am not concerned about the depressing lyrical content, though
—
in some strange way, it seems healthy to me. Healthier, anyway, than breaking the noses of hockey players. (Did I tell you about that? Did she? Quite a story.
)

I bullied the school and got her taken out of math class and put into cooking class. She will not tell me anything about cooking class. I have no idea what to make of this information, but I am assuming she would tell me if she hated it.

Well, it is late at night and I suppose I should go to bed so that I can properly bully school systems in the morning. I have made plans for us to have Christmas dinner with Karen, who is Rosalind's “aunt” I told you about. She drives me nuts, but I am going to suck it back for Ros's sake. Perhaps that is the mark of a real family. In any case, I am glad you are coming for a number of reasons, but not the least of which is that I will just feel more comfortable at Karen's house if I feel like I have an ally, which I hope is what you are. In any case, I will see you next week. Maybe you can bring the novel. I'd love to see it, if you're willing to show it.

Love
,

Sean

Dear Fluffy,

Okay, well, school has been out for 2 days and I am losing my fucking mind here, it's like I can't stay in this house but I can't go anywhere, I hate Christmas so much I want to scream. Apparently we are all going to have Christmas dinner at Karen's house, which is just, I am afraid she's gonna cry again, I am going to be jealous that Sean was able to get one parent back anyway, I am going to scream.

No, it will be fine.

No, it won't. I feel twitchy, like I am going to jump out of my skin or something. Which I guess is kind of nicer than feeling flat, or different anyway, but I am afraid it's coming back, like I am just holding it back and the dam is going to break and I am going to be the one crying before Karen can even start, like where the hell are my mommies if this is Christmas, why the hell can they even have it, they should just cancel it or get some green guy to steal it or something.

I watched that on TV last night and had to go to my room and cry because I don't even know why because I want to kick Cindy Lou Who's ass, I want to get out of my skin and go live in somebody else's, somebody normal, somebody who can just be happy on a happy day instead of losing their mind, or anyway just getting jittery and sad and fuck this.

The thing is nobody asked me shit about Christmas. Sean and Karen all worked this thing out, we're gonna pretend we don't hate each other for one day, so we can be like a family or whatever, but nobody asked me and I don't want to have Christmas because my fucking family is dead! I don't want any of it!

Shit. Fluffy you are not helping me tonight, I am just getting worse, because before I was jittery and now I am jittery but I have these tears rolling down my face and I can't, do it Fluffy, I can't have stupid Christmas without my moms, I can't do it, I won't do it. Good night.

IM from Rosalind90

Rosalind90: K8?

Redchordfan03: IN THE HIZZOUSE

Rosalind90: CANT SLEEP. Y R U AWAKE?

Redchordfan03: I NEVER SLEEP. SLEEP IS 4 THE WEAK!

Rosalind90: IM GLAD U R UP. I M SAD, FREAKING OUT, CRYING, BASICALLY A MESS.

Redchordfan03: Y?

Rosalind90: XMAS, DEAD MOMS, SAME OLD SAME OLD. I MISS THEM REALLY BAD AND EVERYTHING XMAS REMINDS ME, CANT STAND IT. XMAS SEEMS WRONG WITHOUT THEM.

Redchordfan03: SORRY. XMAS SUCKS HERE TOO. TOYS 4 TWINS, LUMP O COAL 4 ME IF I GET ANYTHING, EVERYBODY LOOKS AT ME LIKE THEY WANT ME 2 LEAVE.

Rosalind90: HATE IT CANT STAND BEING ME I JUST WISH I COULD RUN AWAY NOT DO XMAS. I WAS OK FOR LIKE 2 DAYS, NOW IM AFRAID IM GONNA GET SAD AGAIN 4EVER.

Redchordfan03: