Dear Jon

“I’m not. I may know a lot, yes, but I’d never left the east coast until last Thanksgiving when I came here to visit my family for the first time. This makes me want to travel.”

  “Well, good. Maybe you’ll come back to visit us.”

  “Of course,” I say, handing her one of the two menus on the table. She sets it back down immediately. “I guess you have your favorites here?”

  “You have to get a milkshake.” I remember my brother from earlier, and can’t get Chex out of my head. “They serve adult milkshakes.” She points to a special section on the menu.

  “I doubt they will serve us adult milkshakes.”

  “No, but they make non-alcoholic versions. They’d go out of business if they didn’t… Utah…”

  Virgin.

  I feel a pang in the pit of my stomach. I’m sure I’m blushing right now, just thinking back to that awkward conversation between Livvy and me on our first date. I know better than to segue into that topic. Lesson learned.

  “Sounds great.”

  “We can each get a different flavor and share. I never can decide between the Orange Cream Pop one or the Chocolate Mint one.”

  “Then both it is.”

  After we place our orders, Audrey goes right into some questions for me.

  “How did your family get separated from you?” she asks.

  “My mother is a recovering alcoholic. She had to leave the city to escape her demons… and my aunt in Provo is the only relative she has. She kind of flunked out of rehab, but she’s doing better now.”

  “And your dad?”

  “He passed away a few years ago,” I admit. “Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you.” I hold her hand across the table. It looked lonely, sitting there. She smiles.

  “That explains why you seemed so fatherly to your brothers at the store.”

  “Did I?” I ask.

  “You care. Yes. Most nineteen-year-old guys I know care about two things: beer and getting laid. Granted, there isn’t a whole lot to do around here.”

  “I guess that’s probably pretty universal, wherever guys live… except if they have an alcoholic mom, and then the beer becomes less of a priority.” I realize after the fact how suggestive my statement is.

  She raises her eyelids again. I’m not sorry for that.

  “Your brothers must miss having a father, but they’re lucky they have you.”

  “They do, I’m sure, but that’s because their father’s in prison. They have the same dad… not the same as mine.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Some men don’t deserve the title of ‘father,’ and he’s one of them. Sperm donor’s fine. But I don’t mind being a good role model for Will and Max. They’re both good kids.”

  “Sounds like they have you to thank for that.” I’d never really thought of it that way, but I don’t think that’s an untrue statement.

  I smile, proud. “Thanks.”

  A waiter interrupts, delivering our food and shakes together.

  “When’d you get a job here?” Audrey asks the young boy.

  “It’s just for the summer,” he says. “Mom and Dad told me I had to save to buy a car next year.”

  “We’ll give you a good tip,” she winks at him. “Jon, this is my cousin, Neil. Neil, this is… some random guy who picked me up at work.”

  “Pretty much,” I say, holding my hand out to shake his. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll refill your shakes for free.”

  “Thanks,” Audrey says.

  Thanks to Livvy, I feel insecure meeting her cousin. “Are you and Neil close?”

  “Nah,” she answers. “We go to the same church and see each other on holidays.”

  I nod my head. “Any siblings?” I take a bite of my hamburger.

  “I had a sister,” she says simply. I swallow my food and look up at her, showing her my interest in hearing more.

  “Had?” I prod her.

  “She had a freak bike accident… broke her neck. She was ten. It’s been five years this year,” she adds.

  “Still, I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. The hospital bills pretty much broke my family, financially… but I’m happy to say that my parents are still married. They say most parents divorce over money or after losing a child, but mine have beat the odds on both counts.

  “So, needless to say, I’m no Livvy Holland.”

  I drop my french fry at the mention of her name. “I’m not sure I’m following…”

  “I have no money… just in case you’re looking for that. I mean, you have a good job and go to Columbia. I don’t have money like that.”

  I wipe my hands on a napkin and hold my hand out to her across the table. “I’m Jon Scott.” She shakes my hand. “We haven’t met. I come from a rough neighborhood in Harlem, and spent the first 18 years of my life living in a cramped two bedroom apartment with no climate control and thrift store clothes. I met Livvy through a non-profit founded by her parents for poor kids. The scholarships for Columbia? They’re full scholarships. I couldn’t afford to go if I had to pay a dime on my own.”

  “So this burger place is okay for a first date?”

  “Are you kidding? I feel at home here. No pretenses. It’s nice. And I don’t have to work overtime to pay for it.” I tell her this for assurance, but I always felt like I belonged where Livvy was… she always made sure I felt welcomed. My own self-confidence didn’t hurt in those situations, either.

  “I was so worried.”

  “You shouldn’t have been. It’s perfect.”

  She grins widely and picks up both of the shakes, handing me one of them. “To thrift store clothes,” she says, tugging on the collar of her shirt.

  I don’t bother to tell her I don’t wear them anymore. I would, if I needed to. “To thrift store clothes. And to a date between two poor kids, being themselves.” I feel a little disingenuous when I say it.

  “Thanks, Jon.”

  ΑΝΤΙΟ

  Refreshing.

  That’s how I would describe my date, if anyone were to ask. It was easy, like I was just hanging out with a friend. I didn’t feel on guard. I didn’t feel like I had to be on my best behavior in case someone was watching us. I wasn’t constantly looking around for photographers or other onlookers who might threaten my girlfriend.

  I felt less responsible. I felt carefree.

  I felt like it wasn’t really a date at all, actually. Or is this what it’s supposed to be like? It felt so unlike anything I’ve ever done with Livvy. There was no rapid heart rate before I picked her up, no self-conscious thoughts for things I said that didn’t come out as intended, and there was no kiss to signify the end of the night.

  I miss that. All of it.

  Audrey’s beautiful and sweet and humble and funny. All of those traits are ones that I like. Her background makes her very relatable to me, and she has ambitions to rise above her current situation, too. We have a lot in common.

  I try to focus on the patterns in the ceiling, realizing seconds later that my new glasses may help with the cause. I grab them from the night stand and put them on, returning back to the warmth of my bed and gazing upwards, studying the space between the molded circles. They’re just uneven enough to show that they were done by hand, and not some machine.

  Staring too long, the lines start to converge, and I have to blink again to focus. I take my glasses off, giving my eyes a rest. I’d had a headache when I got home last night, which Audrey told me might happen as my vision adjusts. Returning my glasses to the table beside the bed, I open the drawer and pull out the second letter I received from Livvy yesterday. It never even occurred to me to read it last night when I got home.

  I love you, Jon.

  Goodbye to my childhood.

  I’d had a good run. I was lucky enough to have two parents who loved me, a brother who looked up to me, and a plethora of family memb
ers who had no problem welcoming an outsider into their lives. I’d learned about love in all its facets. Love between friends, between family members, and thanks to my parents’ excessive affection, I saw how it was supposed to be between lovers.

  It’s not something I like to think about, but I guess I’d rather that than the alternative. I’m happy Mom and Dad are so in love with one another. It’s important, I think, that one of us could see a good example… otherwise, what were we aiming for?

  I can’t deny that I also admired what Emi and Jack shared between them. There was no doubt of their love for each other. You could feel their passion. It was something I had never actually seen in any other couple. She’s right. Something like their love was the goal… with one exception: sometimes I felt Emi was too reliant on Jack.

  If Livvy’s trying to model after her parents, I can see why she turned to me so drastically over the last year. That’s a huge dose of clarity… right there.

  I sigh, returning to the letter. I glance at the bottom.

  Αντίο.

  It’s Greek. Literally. I get up, adjusting my shorts before I leave my room to find my laptop. I stop by the bathroom first to avoid an awkward situation with my aunt, if she’s home. It’s quiet in the rest of the house.

  The box of Chex is still on the kitchen table when I walk in. I laugh a little, grabbing the box and returning it to the pantry. The back door opens suddenly, startling me.

  “You’re up?” my mom asks.

  “Yeah. What time is it?” I squint, looking at the clock across the room.

  “Where are your glasses?”

  “Eleven?” I ask, not really ignoring her question but proving that I don’t need them as badly as she thinks I do. She nods. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Patty and Will went to church.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I would have gone, but Max has a fever.”

  “I’m surprised Will went with her.”

  “He told me this morning he’s exploring his spirituality. He wants to know his options.”

  I grin at her.

  “Remind you of anyone?”

  “And I turned out okay…”

  “You’re better than okay.”

  “Is Max in bed? I think I’ll go check on him.”

  “Jonny, he’s fine,” she says. “I was just with him.”

  “It’s no problem–”

  “Jonny!” she interrupts. “You can just be their brother this summer. You don’t need to be their parent. I’m here now. One-hundred percent present.”

  I look at her and smile, hopeful.

  “Have a seat,” she suggests, sitting in one of the six chairs at the table.

  Feeling strange in the setting, just in my boxers, I start to leave the kitchen. “I should put some clothes on–”

  “You’re my son, Jon. I changed your diapers when you were a baby. It’s okay to be yourself around me. Please sit down. We haven’t had the chance to talk.”

  I’d had a feeling this was coming. “Mom, I’m sorry about the sex talk last night. I didn’t mean to raise Max’s curiosity, and I didn’t mean to make you worry about me.”

  “I don’t worry about you,” she says. “You’re smarter than that… and I deserve a little bit of a hard time from you, I know. I spent years not worrying about anything.”

  “Nah, Mom. People make mistakes, I know that. I’m just happy this sobriety thing is working out. I’m happy you’re working on your relationship with Will and Max. They need you.”

  Her eyes water. “I know you don’t.”

  “I need you to be better for them. I need to know they’re taken care of when they’re so far from me… so I need you for that.”

  “Do you hate me?”

  I tap my fingers on the table, trying to think of the right response. I shake my head before speaking. “I don’t hate anyone, Mom. I hate situations. I hate that I couldn’t really have friends for the last few years because you weren’t there to make sure Will went to his games or Max got to school on time. I hate that Will is old enough to know about you, but not old enough to have empathy for you. That’s going to make things difficult for both of you. I hate that you were incoherent the morning Max lost his first tooth, because he was so brave, and so proud. I hate that you didn’t come to my graduation.”

  “It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life, Jonny. I am so sorry I missed that. You should have had a mother in that audience, giving you the confidence to speak.”

  “I did,” I tell her honestly. “She just wasn’t my mom. There are always people to help pick up the slack… and yeah, I think I’ve done enough of that for you to last a lifetime.”

  “I know you have. That’s why I want you to just have fun this summer. I don’t know why you had to get a job, why you couldn’t just relax with us…”

  “Because I have a life in Manhattan to go back to, Mom. You know how expensive it is in the city. The scholarships pay for classes, and books, and the dorm, but there are other things I’m liable for… and I see what Dad left me slowly dwindling away, and I need to start saving. This is good money I’m making. And I’m learning things, too. It’s beneficial in a lot of ways.”

  “But it occupies so much of your time.”

  “I need it right now, Mom. I need a distraction.”

  “From Livvy?”

  I nod my head.

  “Is it over?”

  “Yeah.” The sound barely escapes my lips.

  “I’m sorry, Jonny. I know how much you cared for her.”

  “Cared, yes.” Care. I still care for her. No one else needs to know that.

  “Maybe you should take a break from her letters.”

  “Yes, my rational mind tells me that every second of the day, Mom. But they’re magnetic. If I don’t read them, I feel them pulling at me, wanting my attention. It consumes me sometimes. The letters are her. They’re all that’s left, and I’m hoping they bring me closure.”

  “Has she apologized?”

  “She said she was sorry for the first time yesterday… and I’m still unsure what she was apologizing for. The notes are cryptic… they’re like a puzzle I haven’t pieced together yet. Which is probably why I can’t stop reading them. You know I have to know… everything.”

  “Just like your father.”

  “Mom, I do not regret the role I’ve played in Will and Max’s lives. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m proud of them.”

  “I’m proud of you for giving such good guidance when no one else in their lives could.”

  “It’s because of them that I know I can do great things, Mom. They’ve taught me to be a leader. It’s a lesson I may never have learned had we not gone through what we have. And I still want to be involved in their lives, even two thousand miles away.”

  “But I want you to be their brother.”

  “I am. That’s what I am to them. It’s all I could ever be.”

  “Well, I’ll save you from the parental responsibilities as much as I can. I guess it’s about time to have the sex talk with Will.”

  “No, Mom. We’ve had the talk.”

  She starts to cry quickly, looking ashamed.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay. First of all, fifteen’s way too late for the talk. Maybe things have changed since you were that age… but he started asking hard questions when he was twelve.”

  “How can a sixteen-year-old give his brother good sex advice?”

  “Books, the internet, and… well, and experience.”

  “I should have been there for you.”

  “I promise you, Mom, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to you… and I know Will wouldn’t, either. They need a father for that. I’m lucky that Dad taught me the basics before he died. I figured the rest out… and learned about love with Livvy. That was one thing he knew nothing about.”

  “Well… Max is too young, right?”

  “I think so… but you have to answer their questions honestly. That’s how you
’ll earn their trust. It’s not so bad when you stick to the facts and only provide responses to exactly what they ask. Details are not needed… until they hit about fourteen.

  “And at that point, I’d just send Max my way. Or, hell, Will can probably help by then.”

  “You’ll both be gone by the time Max is that age.”

  “I’ll always be a phone call away. And maybe we’ll live closer then… do you think you’ll ever come back to the city?”

  “When I feel well enough, I want to. It’s all I know, and the pace here… I’m sure it’s good for me, but I’m bored.”

  “As long as the things you do to kill your boredom are good for you, Mom.”

  “There you go, talking like a parent again.”

  “It’s hard to see you as a parent, Mom. I don’t know that I’ll ever see you as that, in the traditional sense. I think you and I need to figure out where we fit into each others’ lives. I’m never going to be coming to you for advice, or money, or emotional support. I’ve sought that from other people for too many years. Yeah, you lost my trust.”

  She cries again, but nods her head.

  “But I still love you.”

  Sobs erupt now, and cause me to tear up, too. I move to the chair next to her and give her a hug. She holds me tightly, and I allow her to do that for as long as she needs to.

  “Did you want me to make you some breakfast?” she asks.

  “No, June Cleaver,” I tease her. “It’s my day to make lunch, remember?”

  “Can I help?”

  “I was going to make spaghetti and a salad. It’ll be quick and easy; I’ve got it. I still need to shower and stuff.”

  “Let me help,” she pleads, holding onto my arm.

  “Sure, Mom.” I kiss her on the cheek before getting up and grabbing my computer. “Give me a half hour.”

  Back in my room, I return to the letter, ready to translate.

  Αντίο

  Goodbye.

  Shit.

  I can’t read anymore right now.

  Will stayed in Mom’s room all afternoon reading, clearly avoiding me because of my date and avoiding Max because of his illness. The house was too quiet for me, and I decided to go to a nearby state park and hike. One of my co-workers had recommended the trail to me when I had asked him for date ideas. It’s hard to plan in a city that’s completely foreign to me.