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- And will you write him the letter?
- I don’t know.
- Why not? Hey, what is there to lose?
- Nothing… Oh, I don’t know.
- So, why don’t you?
- I don’t know what to write. Isn’t it a bit silly, all this?
- No, it isn’t. Look, shall we practice a little?
- I don’t know.
- Don’t know what?
- I mean, I’m not sure this is a good idea.
- Just tell me what you would tell him, and then you’ll see if it sounds silly.
- You think that’s a good idea?
- Come on, don’t make such a fuss. It’s only a bloody letter.
- Sure. It’s just a fucking letter. Ok. …
Dear… no, that sounds stupid already. I think I’ll leave out the name bit.
“I have been thinking about you a lot, recently. There’s not much I want to say, really. Only, that I kind of wish you would have known me as the person that I am today. That I had been given the chance to show you how I changed. Not because you wanted me too, you were well too wise for that. (But I only realised that later.) More, because you’ll never know me as the person I’ll be for the most part of my life. I feel sorry. What for I don’t know.
I think I only want to let you know that I miss you – in many ways. I feel so helpless. I feel like a porcelain doll that has a fissure. A sudden stir and I will break. You left me in that state, and that I did not understand. Why did you leave me when I was but a small, submissive, stupid doll? Couldn’t you have waited a little longer? Given me a chance?
But this is not the time for mulling over the past. It might seem a little strange to put it like that, but I think I got over you. I miss you, your advice, your company. But I know I’ll manage on my own.
Today, I was going to town by bus. We were driving past the crossing where I had to change to tram; I looked to my left and saw it coming down the hill. Impatiently, I waited for the other passengers to get off. I was last. I started to run. The tram stop is three hundred metres from there. The tram was already closing its doors as I turned the corner. I kept running. The light indicating that it was about to leave began to flash. I didn’t believe in what I was doing anymore, but I kept running. It had been snowing last night, and the pavement was still icy. I kept running, mad girl in short skirt and high heels, running for her life. I didn’t know what else to do. I got closer, slowly, though I could hardly breathe anymore. I just kept running. My legs started to burn. I kept running. Finally, the driver opened the doors again. I got on the tram and found myself facing a lot of old grumps staring at my little breathless self. I shrank, and for a moment I considered feeling ashamed for the state I was in, for running for a tram when I could have just as well taken the next, for holding up the traffic. Then something in me shouted no! and I stared back – calm and smug. Fuck yous. Fuck you all.
That is all I have to say, really. There’d be a lot more, but I don’t think it will be of interest to you any longer. Thank you for being there when you were. You were important to me. Forever yours…”
- That’s it?
- That’s it.
- And you think that will bring him back?
- No, it won’t.
- So, what’s the point in writing, then?
- No point.
- Will you post it at least?
- I wouldn’t know where to.
- Look him up, then.
- It won’t help. No directory for these places.
- What did he do? Emigrate to outer space?
- Kind of.
- Kind of? Stop fucking me about.
- I don’t.
- So what’s your frigging problem?
- He’s dead.