V-mail from Seaman Tobias Vincenzo to Roylene Dawson
Dear Roylene,
Thank you for your letters.
I’m sorry for what I said in mine. You’re right—a boy should know his father. It’s just, I can’t stand the thought of being introduced to him through a photograph, or a letter, or one of my ma’s crazy stories. I want him to touch flesh and blood. I want glorious recognition when I look into his eyes. I know what it’s like to reach out for my father’s solid hand and only get a fistful of memories. And Little Sal would get secondhand ones, at that.
Oh, baby, grief has made mush of my brain.
I can’t help my mother. Writing words on a piece of paper isn’t enough. I tried, but my hands shake, and everything I put down seems weak and lacking. I did send something, but I want you to do me a favor. Go over to the house and squeeze her, hard. Say it’s from me. I know this might embarrass you, but the thought of you doing it will help me sleep at night.
Please send my regards to Miss Wachowski and tell that Charlie fella I appreciate his helping out. And thanks for the story about my dad. Do you still have the socks? I’d like to think you’d kept them.
I think about you day and night.
Toby