by Michael Kun
I really like the coaches, too. They’ve been helpful in teaching me about nutrition as well as running. No wonder I couldn’t sleep through the night! I was jazzed on caffeine and hungry all the time. Since joining the team, I’ve been eating better and sleeping through the night again, which is awesome.
My parents are really happy about the track team thing, too, although my dad keeps reminding me that I have to come home for Spring Break and have to miss any meets that are scheduled that week because The Baby will be arriving. (As if I could forget.) And my mom has probably worn out her welcome at the store, bragging about me. Sorry about that. She’s always been the president of my fan club.
Other than that, how is it working out having our moms helping you at the store? If you need any help while I’m home for Spring Break, I’d be happy to work the cash register or fold clothes at the end of the day, or whatever. It would be great to spend time with you and not to have to spend the entire break either waiting for The Baby to arrive or changing its diapers.
Okay, I guess I can’t put off studying for midterms any longer. I’ll call you soon. I hope you are getting a lot of sleep and things are getting a little better.
Love,
Cath
P.S. I forgot to mention that I’m so excited that Todd is back in the band! With the van back, does that mean you can travel to play shows? I put “Have a Heart” on the team warm-up tape, and everyone loves it. Just let me know if you want to talk to the manager at the Pizza Pan about scheduling a gig. He still asks about you when he sees the sticker on my backpack.
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
March 5, 1983
Dear Cath,
That was nice of you to suggest I talk with your friend Jane. She’s the one with the black hair, right? I’m sure she’s a very nice person and all, but I’m going to pass. I’m all talked out these days, and I don’t feel like talking to someone I don’t know anyway. What’s the point? Most people don’t even want to talk about me or my dad. Instead, after saying they’re sorry, everyone wants to tell me about how they know exactly what I’m going through because someone they knew died, too, as if that’s supposed to make me feel better. I get it—lots and lots of people die. Great. Thanks a lot. I just don’t need to hear about someone else’s grandmother or mailman who died, or their grandmother’s mailman, or their mailman’s grandmother, or whoever the hell they want to talk about who died. And I don’t want to hear about how this person died of cancer, and that person died in a car accident, and that other person died from the bubonic plague. I’m sorry they all died, okay? And I’m sure whatever they died of was terrible. But I don’t want to hear about it.
Here’s another thing I don’t want to hear about: how my dad should’ve taken better care of himself. (I almost wrote “should of” taken better care of himself—can you imagine what Mrs. Anki would say about that?) They all say, “Your dad was a great guy. We’re really going to miss him. Blah, blah, blah.” Then, eventually, they all say, “I wish he’d taken better care of himself.” I can’t tell you how many people have said that to me. Or, “What happened to your dad is a lesson for all of us about how important it is to take care of ourselves.” Look, I understand what they’re trying to say, but it’s still a crappy thing to say. It doesn’t change anything. It’s like they’re blaming him or saying it’s his own fault. Maybe it was. But why the hell do you think I want to hear you say that?
I’m sorry if this isn’t a particularly good letter. I’m so tired from work, even with everyone helping me out. It could be worse. If my dad hadn’t been so well organized, I would have no idea how to run this store. He had folders for everything. Maybe if he hadn’t made so many folders, he would have taken better care of himself, right? Right.
I’m glad to hear things are going well at school and with the track team. Maybe I’ll come down to see one of your meets, if you tell me when they are—and if you promise that Dorothy and James won’t be there. The thought of those two making out might make me throw up. And the thought of throwing up makes me want to throw up more.
If I do come down, maybe I’ll bring the band with me and we’ll play at that pizza place where you work. And do you have any idea how much they’ll pay us? Tell your boss we usually get paid $10,000 a show, but we’ll give them a discount and do it for $50 and some pizza. And beer. And not the cheap beer, either.
Speaking of the band, Farrah stopped by the store today, and I told him he’s out of the band and that Todd is back in. I ended up being completely wrong about the guy. I thought he was going to go crazy when I told him he’s out of the band, but he couldn’t have been cooler. He told me that he knew I was going through a tough time, that he understood that Todd had been the original drummer, that it would be wrong for him not to give the drummer’s seat back to Todd, and that I should call him if Todd was ever unavailable or if I just wanted to hang out and jam. The way he handled the whole thing made me feel good and bad at the same time, if you know what I mean. But then he started telling me about how he knew what I was going through because his uncle died, and I wanted to tell him to shut … the … hell … up.
The Moms have been a big help at the store. No kidding. They talk a lot about your dad and my dad. And about us. What a surprise. Apparently, neither of us knows anything about what love is.
Speaking of which, Samantha sent me a long letter. It was a very nice letter, that’s all I’ll say. I’m looking forward to seeing her when she comes home for spring break. I know you’ll be home at the same time. Maybe we can all get together for dinner or lunch or something.
I’ll talk to you soon.
Scott
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
March 8, 1983
Dear Scott,
I’m so excited that you’re willing to play at the Pizza Pan! Hooray for us! I’m going to have my manager call you at the store this week. His name is Billy Thorn. The band that he had scheduled to play on St. Patrick’s Day just canceled on him for a higher-paying gig, so he’ll really want you guys to come down. I mean, wait, that didn’t come out right. That’s not the only reason he’ll want you. Billy has liked Crush since he heard your tape last semester, and he’s wanted you to play all along.
This will be great! It’s the Thursday before we all leave for Spring Break, and Billy says it usually gets pretty wild. I hope it isn’t too soon for you, you know, after your dad and everything. Will it be good to have something fun to look forward to, though? I hope so because you deserve to be happy.
Anyway, I have to run because we have a meet this afternoon. I’m not running an event, but I’m still really excited to be there as an alternate and to wear my shiny new tracksuit and everything. I’m going to drop this at the post office and go by the Pizza Pan right now to leave Billy a note with your phone number on it. Make my mom cover your shifts if you have to. You’re the boss now, and she says she likes chatting with all the men who come into the store anyway. (I was sort of creeped out to hear that, but who can blame her?)
Much love,
Cath
P.S. I also might be a little bit excited because the girls’ track team has a mixer with the baseball team this Thursday night and, in case I forgot to mention it, I’m on the girls’ track team. And, yeah, well, there’s the baseball player part, too.
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
March 10, 1983
Dear Cath,
I just spoke with Billy, and we’re all set for the gig at the Pizza Pan. It should be fun. Maybe it’ll be the start of a worldwide tour of pizza parlors. The Moms are going to handle the store for themselves for Thursday and Friday, so that’s covered. The only problem is that we need to find a place to sleep that Thursday night. If we stay in a hotel, we’ll wind up
losing money on the trip. And as much as I’m sure you’d love to have us all sleeping on the floor of your dorm room, there’s the Dorothy problem. (Remind me to use that as a title for a song: “The Dorothy Problem.”) If you have any ideas about where we could sleep, please let me know. Otherwise, we’ll be sleeping in Todd’s van. (Remind me to buy some air fresheners for the trip.)
Thanks for all the nice things you said. They mean a lot. And thanks for reminding me that you’re on the track team. I had almost forgotten it since the last time you mentioned it. And thanks for reminding me about your general attraction to baseball players. It’s the tight pants, isn’t it? Come on, admit it.
Speaking of admitting things, I have something to admit to you. Remember last fall when my dad wanted to know what your SAT scores were? When I told him, he said, “You’re 80% as smart as she is, I’ll bet you could get 1400 if you tried.” I didn’t tell you this for a lot of reasons, but he got me some SAT prep books and he signed me up for the SATs. I actually read the books because, well, there was nothing else to do at night with everyone off at college already, and I took the test on a Saturday morning with most of the current senior class of East Bloomfield High. The scores came in the mail last fall, and let’s just say I’m not 80% as smart as you. It’s closer to 95%. Don’t laugh, but somehow I got 1500 out of 1600, including 780 on English. Yes, English. So I was thinking about maybe applying to colleges, but then a lot of stuff happened and I missed the deadlines, so I figured I would wait to apply until next year. But the past few weeks, my mom started talking about how proud my dad would be if I went to college, and how she knew that I felt trapped here now and she didn’t want me to feel trapped. I told her I’d already missed the deadlines, so she called up a bunch of schools, explained that my dad had just died, and asked if they could make an exception for me and let me apply after the deadline had passed. Believe it or not, she actually talked five schools into letting me apply late, including Samantha’s. Anyway, I just sent off five college applications. They gave me only a few days to send in my applications, so instead of writing an essay, I just included the lyrics to “Daddy Issues,” along with a tape of the song. I figure that, at the very least, it will be different.
I hope you’re not mad that I didn’t mention the SATs before, but hopefully the fact that you’re 5% smarter than me makes up for that. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Samantha’s excited about the possibility that I might be going to college with her next year, if I can get in. I am, too. But I’m trying not to get too excited. If I don’t get into any of the schools, I’ll be right here, selling men’s clothing with the Moms and Todd. That’s okay, too, I guess.
Okay, I have to get back to work. In case you were wondering, while the Moms are doing a good job around here, they could do more work if they stopped talking to each other all day. Seriously, it’s nonstop. I’m surprised they still have vocal cords. And before I forget, the Moms also convinced Todd to get a haircut. They told him he has a beautiful face and he “shouldn’t hide his light under a bushel.” I have no idea what that means, but wait until you see it. I would send a photo, but I don’t have one. Let me just say two words instead: Dorothy Hamill.
Talk to you soon, college girl.
Scott, maybe a college guy
P.S. It is the tight pants, isn’t it? I knew it.
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
March 13, 1983
Dear Scott,
You took the SATs last fall and didn’t tell me about it? You weasel! I tell you everything, and you don’t tell me about that! That’s huge news, Scott!
I’m so excited that you applied to college for next year! I’ve always known that you are much smarter than your grades reflected. That’s so great, Scott. I’m really happy for you. You’re going to love being away from home and hanging with teenagers instead of old people all the time. When will you hear back from all your schools?
I’m also really excited to see Crush on St. Patty’s Day. I have a big paper due Thursday and I’ll be totally psyched to party after I hand it in. Don’t stress about where you guys will sleep. This is college! Sleeping arrangements are pretty flexible. Bowl haircut or no bowl haircut, Todd will be snuggled up with some little cutie somewhere, and if worse comes to worst, the rest of you can crash on my guy friends’ floors or on the couches in the commons room. James has a single, so Dorothy will probably stay at his place that night, and you could maybe even stay in my room. Don’t worry, it will all work out. And if it doesn’t, you may have a jump start on the lyrics to “The Dorothy Problem.”
Now let’s just hope that The Baby stays where it is until after Thursday. I talked to my dad today and he is a nervous wreck. Apparently, Amanda went into “false labor” last night and they rushed her to the hospital, only to be sent back home. (And, apparently, the secretary has a name—and apparently, it’s “Amanda.”) I have to admit, now that we are so close to The Baby being born, I am sort of looking forward to it. It’s kind of cool that I’ll be a big sister. The closest I’ve had to a little brother or sister has been Plum.
I’m off to the library to start my research paper. Can’t wait to see you in a few days! I’ll grab a ride home with you guys in the van on Friday, okay? And I’ll bring some air fresheners!
Much love,
Cath
P.S. No, it’s not just the pants. It’s the beauty of so many moments during a game. And the pants.
P.P.S. Unfortunately, as I learned at the mixer a few nights ago, most of the players also have beautiful girlfriends. Not pretty—beautiful. Maybe I should follow Jane’s lead and go for a soccer player. If only I could get over the feeling that I’m looking at them in a fun house mirror, with their skinny chests and tree trunk legs. See, it’s these types of intense thoughts that you’ll have to grapple with if you go to college next year. I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to handle it!
WAKE FOREST UNIVERSITY
Dear Scott,
That.
Was.
A.
Mazing!
You guys were awesome! You completely ROCKED! I mean, I’m at a loss for words. It was incredible.
And, oh my God, when you pulled me up onstage to sing the chorus of “You Don’t Know Me”—that was otherworldly. I’ve never felt like that in my life. I was nervous at first, but then it felt like I was floating. I hope I did the song justice. But now I totally understand the high you get when you’re up onstage singing your songs.
Anyway, amazing.
Absolutely amazing.
Looking forward to hanging out.
Love,
Cath
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
March 20, 1983
Cath—
Sorry I haven’t seen you much since we got back to town, but Samantha is keeping me very busy when I’m not at the store, if you know what I mean.
I wanted to thank you again for setting up the gig at the Pizza Pan. Man, that was fantastic! Not to brag, but WE ROCKED! We totally and completely ROCKED! And you were great singing on “You Don’t Know Me.”
Let’s catch up after I drive Samantha back to school next weekend.
Enjoy the rest of your spring break, and let me know when the baby arrives.
Scott
* * *
AGEE’S MEN’S CLOTHING
Where Men and Boys Shop
EAST BLOOMFIELD, MARYLAND
* * *
March 23, 1983
Dear Cath,
I wish I could say that our call tonight was the worst phone call I’ve ever had, but I had an even worse one with Samantha right afterwards. Maybe you and Samantha should talk because as much as you both dislike each other, you both seem to agree that I’m a jerk.
Anyway, I’m sorry if I didn’t handle things well, or if the words didn’t come out right. But Samantha wasn’t happy to find out that
I drove down to play at Wake, or that I slept in your room, even though Joe did, too, and she wasn’t too happy that you drove back with us in Todd’s van. That’s all I was trying to say to you. I was hoping you’d give me some advice or tell me that everything was going to be okay. I probably should have remembered the Samantha Rules and not talked with you about her at all. I’m sorry.
I don’t want to fight with you about this, Cath. I don’t. And everything you said makes sense, even the part about how I’m being stupid and a jerk. When I called Samantha back and tried to repeat what you had said, about how we’ve been friends forever, it actually made things worse and she started crying.
She said, “How am I supposed to compete with that?”
And I said, “Compete with what?”
And she said, “How am I supposed to compete with someone you’ve been friends with forever?”
And I said, “There’s no competition, Sam. She’s my friend. You’re my girlfriend.”
And she said, “Don’t be so sure about that.”
And I said, “What does that mean?”
And she said, “Exactly what you think.” She was crying, and I kept trying to calm her down, then she said, “I have a question, and I want you to answer it honestly. I deserve honesty.”