The Letter - Chapter 25

“Hey big brudda,” my brother Bob slapped me on the back and sat down in the chair next to me.  People were filtering into the church hall.  Most were still milling around, chatting with like-minded friends.  This was my first meeting with this group that advocated against gun violence.  I had told Bob I was planning to attend but was surprised to see him there.

“What brings you here?” I asked.

“Hey, I’m a single guy.  You never know who you might meet at one of these meetings,” Bob gave me a sharp elbow to the ribs.  Bob had lost his wife to breast cancer eight years ago.  She was just 42.  “I’m not sure why you’re here though.  I figured you’d still be pining over that mystery letter writer.”

“She’s no longer a mystery, Bob.  Jennifer and her friend figured out who she is.  A nice piece of detective work I have to admit.”  I gave him a quick rundown on what Jennifer had discovered.

“That niece of mine is pretty awesome.  So have you done anything about it?”

“No.  I’ve had other things on my mind.”  I told Bob about the custody case Melissa had filed.

“God, that woman is just plain awful.  When I think of her, I lose all desire to enter into a new relationship.  So what are you going to do?”

“The meeting’s about to start.  I’ll buy you a beer afterwards.  We’ll talk then.”

The first speaker gave a personal account of the recent mass shooting.  He was a doctor and had been at a restaurant in the near vicinity of where the killing occurred.  On seeing a news report on his phone, he ran to the scene to offer assistance.  He described a scene of mass confusion when he arrived.  The first responders allowed him access to the carnage because of his medical credentials.  What really stuck with me was his description of cell phones lighting up as family and friends tried unsuccessfully to contact their fallen loved ones.   He spoke passionately of the need to take steps to make our community safe from gun violence.

After the doctor, local organizers spoke to gather support for a candlelight vigil at City Hall on Friday evening.  There would also be a rally at the local offices of one of the U.S. Senators the following week.   I penciled in both events on my calendar.  At the end of the meeting, audience members were asked to sign a pledge to obey existing gun laws, to encourage others to do so and to press government officials to make gun violence prevention a priority.   I gladly signed.  Bob hesitated.

“I’m just not ready to take that step,” Bob said as we left the building.  “Some of the people involved with this group seem a little too radical for me.”

“Nobody’s proposing to take your hunting rifles, Bob.”

“Yeah, I hear you.  I mean, I can understand the concerns about military assault rifles like the shooter used in that massacre.  Let me think about it.  Is your offer of that beer still open?”

“Sure.  I’ll meet you at that brewpub on Route 88.  I just need to quick call Jennifer to let her know when I’ll be home.”

Twenty minutes later we were having craft beers and sharing a wild mushroom pizza at Mindful Brewing. 

“Sole custody, huh?  That woman is brutal!  So what are you going to do?” Bob asked taking a bite of pizza.

“I haven’t met with my lawyer yet.  I have an appointment early next week.  I think we’ll argue that it would be harmful to make such a radical change this far into her senior year of high school.”

“Sounds right to me, but what do I know?  I’m just a dumb engineer who thinks good ought to prevail over evil.  So what about this letter lady?”

“I don’t know.  It seems kind of presumptuous to contact her.  She sent me an unsigned letter with no return address.  That doesn’t seem like she wants me to contact her.  I think I’ll just wait for a while and see if she tries again – maybe with some kind of explanation about what she was trying to do with that first letter.”

“Do you remember her at all?” 

“Yeah, I do.  Cute girl.  Kind of shy.  But back then, so was I.  Honestly, it would be kind of fun to see her and chat.  I suppose that if I don’t hear from her anytime soon, I might just drop her a line.  But Seattle?  That would sure be a long distance relationship if anything would come out of it.”

“Hey, you’re retired.  And the writing you’re doing?  You could do that anywhere.  Seattle might be a welcome change of scenery.  Might inspire you to write that best seller.”

And what about Jennifer?”

“I’ll bet there’s a college or two in Washington.”

“Okay.  If I don’t hear from her in the next two weeks, I’ll contact her.”  I drained the last of the oatmeal stout I had ordered and stood up.  “I’ve got to get home, Bob.  Thanks.  I’ve had a nice evening.  Glad you came out to join me even if you weren’t convinced.”

“Hey, I’m thinking about it.  I don’t plan to go to the vigil this weekend or the rally next week, but I am going to give this a lot of thought.  I know this is important to you.”  Bob’s face cracked into a broad grin.  “Hey, brother.  What say I take a vacation day tomorrow and we drive up to Punxatawney to see if the groundhog sees his shadow?”

I grinned back at my brother.  “Thanks, but no thanks, Bob.  Did that in college.  I’ll watch the six o’clock news to see what happens on Gobbler’s Knob.  It’s a pretty safe bet that he’ll predict another six weeks of winter.  Anyway, drive safely.  See you soon.”  We shook hands and walked to our cars.  Bob had given me a lot to think about.