Dear Mary

June 26, 1996

Mary Crofton

171 Patterson Avenue

Ottawa, ON

Dear Mary,

Not a lot has happened since the last time I wrote to you. I put the first letter in the mail two days ago, and assuming Canada Post doesn’t lose it, it should be getting to you in the next few days. I’m kind of scared about you reading it. Though I’m not scared you’ll be angry with me. You’re definitely angry with me. I am scared that I’ve hurt you so badly that you’ll keep hurting for a long time. That would kill me. I know you couldn’t care less about what I want, but if I could want one thing for you, it would be for you to forget about me as quickly as possible. Throw that first letter away, and keep letting me write to the ghost of a dead relationship. You can get back in the car, and drive away. Leave me behind.

I know it’s pathetic that I need to keep writing to you, or at least, pretend to write to you, but I’m going to keep doing it. I’m a pathetic coward, and the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can stop convincing people otherwise. I tried writing to myself before, but I kept trying to sound smarter and more eclectic than I really am. I’d imagine people coming across my journal like some kind of artifact, and trying to glean what kind of person I was from it. I was always trying to impress these imaginary record keepers, but I have no reason to impress you.

I got invited to a Canada day celebration next week. So that’s something nice. Apparently Gaines goes fucking ballistic for July 1st, and they have this big bonfire at a field out at the edge of town every year. Everyone is supposed to be there, so I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone. I was invited by the woman who owns the general store, Marsha. She’s a nice lady. Kinda reminds me of your aunt, actually. Y’know, in that really friendly, almost saccharine kind of way? She told me her children were gonna be there and they’re about our age. Her son works out in Alberta on the Tar Sands, and her daughter is getting her graduate degree down in Toronto, but they’re both home for the summer.

I don’t know if I came here to meet people to be honest. I think I came here to be alone, but Marsha’s the first person I’ve spoken to in three days, and that pretty much made my day, so maybe I should try to meet people. I just don’t know if it’s fair to make a relationship with these people when I’m here specifically to sort out my issues. Cuz once I’ve figured out my life, I’ll leave, right? Why put in the effort, and ask people to put in the effort to develop a relationship when it’s just fated to end anyway, right?

I keep thinking about endings, lately. Remember when we took that road trip to Vancouver? I told you that driving there was a bad idea, but you said “driving there is the easy part, driving back is hard”. You were always straightforward like that. You were always willing to put in the effort to get where you needed to go. I still admire that about you. I think I almost exploded trying to get through the prairies on the way back. I kept asking you to pull over for a minute to stretch my legs and smoke, but you refused. You told me that every minute spent taking a break was another minute longer until we got where we needed to go.

Where were we going before I left you? At one time I think that I probably had a good idea what that was, but now, I don’t know, everything looks the same. Every destination is the same place.

Am I taking a break on my real journey by being here? If I am, where am I going now? I know you probably don't want to listen to me philosophize, but if this is the side of the road for me, then I'm either making you wait for me, or making you do the rest of the journey alone. I hope that you left me behind. I hope that you found people that you can rely on. I'm sorry, I feel terrible for abandoning everything we planned, but I'd feel so much worse if I kept you from getting to where you need to go.

I’ll send you another letter next week. I’m gonna go outside and smoke for a bit before I go into town to get some groceries. I also need to start thinking about work to pay for this place soon, so I’ll update you next time.

With regards,

Ethan