Crazy

To: condorboy

Subject: boys

Dear Connor,

I know you’re on the road and everything, but I’m bored and have no one to talk to, so I’m just going to pretend you’re there, okay?

My brother’s in rehab. Again. He went once after that time he OD’ed in high school, but I don’t think anyone really expected it to work. But this time, I don’t know. It can’t not work. There’s nowhere else for Jesse to go except prison or dead. Prison is probably where he should be right now, but for some reason the judge took pity on him and sent him to a six-month in-patient treatment program up in the mountains where even someone smart like Jesse can’t find a way to get drugs. We can start visiting after his first month is over, so that’s good, I guess. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much, because we all know how that usually turns out. The truth is, him being up in the mountains doesn’t even seem that different than when he lived in Seattle. Even though he’s technically been living in the same city as me for all these years, it feels like he’s been gone a long time.

What else is going on with me . . . Well, Trevor emailed me yesterday. He didn’t even mention the fact that I haven’t emailed or texted or called him for the last few weeks, even though that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I wanted some kind of recognition for it, you know? Like maybe he missed me or his feelings were hurt or he at least wondered why I wasn’t contacting him. But apparently he didn’t even notice. Fucking asshole. I’m done with men. Seriously. I wish I could be a lesbian like my sister. Then I could find a nice lady like Karen to shack up with and she’d never treat me bad or take me for granted. She wouldn’t email me after two months and be like, “Hey, I’m driving through Seattle tomorrow on my way to Vancouver, wanna meet up for a couple hours?” Translation: “Will you be my on-the-road booty call?” The answer is NO. I didn’t even write him back. I deleted his email. He is dead to me.

Aren’t you proud of me?

Love,
Iz