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22
JAK. I tossed the lid to the chest up and looked inside. Several bundles of letters were stacked inside. With my old photo album sitting beside the chest, I knelt down and sorted through the bundles. Looking at the faded post marks on the envelopes, I sorted them on the floor beside me by date. After Fifteen minutes or so, I had all of the bundles in chronological order. A few loose letters and other miscellaneous keepsakes littered the bottom of the almost empty chest.
I picked up the first bundle and untied the stack of envelopes. After flipping through a few, I found one from Shelley. I flicked my knife open and cut the twenty-year-old envelope and removed the letter. Surprisingly, although the pencil handwriting was a little faded, the paper wasn’t brittle at all. After unfolding it, I took a deep breath and began to read.
Jak,
I feel terrible and would like to talk. The last few days before you left were difficult for me. I have so much to say. I really need to talk to you about some things. I hope your training goes well, and you make it to the end. I know it will be tough and if anyone can do it, you can.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
Shell
I folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope. I picked up the pile and turned the corners of the envelopes up, looking at the return addresses as I did so. After finding another from Shelley, I opened it and removed the letter.
Jak,
I still haven’t heard back from you, but I have no idea how long the letters take to reach you. The weather is shitty here, and it snowed a lot last week. We’re all kind of stuck here, and waiting for it to melt. It reminds me of the time we went sledding down at the river when we were kids.
I miss everyone being together.
We really need to talk. Write when you can. I asked, and I can’t send food, or I would. Hope you’re eating well. Keep your chin up.
Shell
I folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope. There were certainly no earth shattering revelations as I had hoped. I looked at the various piles of letters, and considered when Karter would have been born. I picked up a pile of letters dated approximately six months after I had shipped out and untied the bundle. After a few letters, I found one from Shelley. I cut it open and removed the letter.
Jak,
I can’t believe you still haven’t written. If you’re mad because I won’t tell you who the father is, I guess you have the right to be. I would have thought in some sense the fact it wasn’t you would allow you a little relief. If you would have written or if you’ll still write, maybe we can talk about it. Maybe one day I will tell you.
I’m doing fine, I guess. I’m really big and everyone is confused.
Same old shit, I suppose.
Hope you’re well.
Shell
I folded the letter and dropped it into the envelope. Satisfied I’d never get to anything meaningful, and having read her acknowledgement of me not being the father was enough. Although I wanted answers, I began to realize they would not be provided. I had held onto the memories of my childhood for a lifetime, and the time had clearly arrived for me to let go and move on with my life. Things were beginning to be so much different now. After seeing Shelley, finding out who Karter’s father was and slowly coming to terms with it all, I felt relieved and considerably less responsible for everything. In time, I was sure I’d probably just forget it all and move on a much better man.
I looked at the pile and considered what to do with it all. By no means did I want Karter to ever find it. In many respects, I wished none of it even existed. As I sat and stared at the piles of old mail, I decided it would never be of any future use. I looked into the chest. As I began to rummage through the remaining contents, one lone letter caught my eye.
My heart raced. I picked it up and stared at the return address.
Graham Lauder 329 N 9th, Potwin, KS 67123
I blinked my eyes and stared at the faded postmark date.
18 JAN 1993
Believing I must be misreading the date, I stood from the floor and walked to the lamp in the corner of the room. I blew on the surface of the envelope and wiped the date with the bottom of my tee shirt. I stared at the envelope. It was as if it was shipped from a ghost.
18 JAN 1993
Graham was killed on the 14th of January. I shipped out on the night of the 21st. I considered the date he was killed and tried to recall the day of the week. It was an extremely warm day in mid-January, and we decided to go for another ride because of the fabulous weather. The forecast had called for three sixty-five degree days back to back. We had worked eagerly to bring his bike to a condition where he could ride it, and waited anxiously to for the nice weather. The day he died was a Wednesday. No, it was a Thursday. Thursday the 14th.
The letter postmarked the 18th clearly meant one thing and one thing only. Graham had mailed it to me before he died. If he would have mailed it from Potwin on the morning he died, the postmark would probably be correct. Mail was taken from Potwin to Wichita for a postmark, and then distributed from Wichita to the respective destination. The cycle, considering the weekend, could have been a week. My mother had probably simply dropped it into the chest and left it with the other mail I had sent home.
