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26 Letters

Chad

The Godfather
Staff member
Joined
Mar 17, 1988
Messages
3,928
Points
36
Website
thecswa.com
(Hornet sits. He's not at his usual mahogany desk in the study. Instead, he's in a hammock... in the middle of February... at the end of a cold winter's afternoon. So more precisely, he swings. Back and forth between two poles of direction. He can feel the pull from both sides. It's almost like being forced underwater, not knowing which way is up, which way leads toward the surface. Which way leads to the only thing you need in the world at that moment, a breath of air.)

(A gust of cold wind causes the hammock to swing silently. The wind blows at the paper on top of the book resting in his lap. How long has it been since he wrote, hand-wrote, a letter...to anybody? How long has it been since he made that gesture? Too long... and too late. Hornet writes.)

"I'm sorry I didn't write, or call, sooner. I know that seems like a trite thing to say, but it's true. This one is even more trite. I didn't know what to say. And I didn't know if you'd want to hear from me."

"I should have tried anyway. I should have tried to MAKE you listen. But I figured all that would do was drive you further away. And now... now it doesn't matter, does it? You pushed past all that, or at least, past me. Haven't you?"

"I was sorry to hear about your mom. Again, trite. But it's true. I know I've never met her, but I've heard you talk about her so much that I feel like I know her. At least, I know how important she is to you. And I know that she's as stubborn as you are. Maybe even more stubborn than I am."

"Let me end the trite-ness. Let me ask the question I've wanted to ask, but was afraid of the answer. Are we... is there... when are we going to stop hurting each other? It seems like that's all we've done. But I know that's not true, because I remember the other times. The times when it seemed like almost all the hurt in our world could go away...almost, but never quite enough."

"That's not the question I was going to ask. I think you know what the question is...but I won't ask it. Not now. Not after everything. I think that's the best way to describe us isn't it... almost, but never quite enough."

"It's my fault. I couldn't balance what I thought important at work against what was important outside of it. I couldn't balance what I thought I wanted against what I needed."

"In the end, does it matter? You'll jump to the next one. You won't mean to, and when you do it, you'll convince yourself that it means more...so that maybe then it will mean more. And I'll jump to whatever comes up next. How ironic that those two jumps could land so near each other, but in such different directions..."

"For what it's worth, I hope you know how I really felt. Even if I never came out and told you in the few words I could come up with in the meager 26 letters of our alphabet. I doubt you know... I can only assume that I failed at that too."

"I guess it's time to go now. I've got to fly to San Diego... but you already know that. In case you're wondering... I did see you in Greensboro. Before my match, down the hall, on your way somewhere. But I couldn't stop you... it wouldn't have been fair. Funny that I think about fairness now, isn't it?"

"I've gotta go. Be good. Take care. And...."

"Be happy."

(As Hornet signs his name, he lies back in the hammock. The breeze, which had quieted to this point, picks up suddenly. The piece of paper, no-longer blank, flies away from the hammock. It flutters in the breeze as Hornet watches, floating serenely, before coming down in the pool nearby. As the sheet saturates, he sighs, then grins at his typical misfortune.)

(Hornet picks up a cell phone next to him and hits a button.)

Yes, I'd like to have some flowers sent...lilies.

Mercy Hospital. In New York City.

No, I don't want to include my name..just a Get Well Soon card.

(fadeout)
 

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