If it was that awful in the woods, I don’t think you should go back.

Dear Dad,

I’m glad to hear from you. I mean, I’m really happy. Geez, these words just don’t work. Let me try again.

When I saw your envelope sitting in the mailbox, my stomach kind of jumped. I tore the letter open and read it right there. It felt like I started breathing again, after holding my breath for a week.

Now I sound like I’m writing to my girlfriend or something. This is isn’t getting any better. Anyway, when I read your words, I felt—I don’t know. It sounds so weird and scary. It makes my life here seem like a half-life.

Why do you need to go back into the woods? What happened to Martin? I’m guessing something horrible, but you didn’t say. And where is Julia?

If it was that awful in the woods, I don’t think you should go back.

Last Friday, in this half-life of mine, I had my first basketball game. Guess how much I played? Zero minutes and zero seconds. Mr. Schick, the kind and loving coach that he is, kept coming over to the bench to choose subs to go in. Every time he’d come over, I’d kind of perk up, just like Blackie Dog does whenever anybody comes into the room. I hope I didn’t look that stupid, but I probably did.

We won by 22 points, which seems like a big enough gap that I could have played. I know how it works. I don’t expect to play if it’s a five-point game. But 22 points? I didn’t think I was that bad.

Oh well. Brian Haase didn’t play, either. I’m pretty sure everyone else did. Even Donnie Joad, and he’s like 5’2”. We have an away game next Friday. Maybe I’ll get to play then. Who cares? What difference does it make? I didn’t want to go out for the stupid team anyway.

Your son,

Trevor

Filed under Letters from Son | Tags: adolescence, afterlife, basketball, fatherhood, junior high school, letter, middle school, purgatory, words, writing | Comment (0)