It might have been the loneliest I have ever been. I won’t lie about it. I cried. In some ways it was even worse than when Marilyn or Alison died, because then I had family around me. Now it was my family which had abandoned me. I just sat there in the apartment until early afternoon, wallowing in my sorrow, and then decided the hell with it. Being miserable is only good in small doses. I opened a bottle of Chardonnay and went on with my life.
The first thing I did was plug in the telephone and listen to my messages. With the exception of one of them, they were all from my mother. The only one which wasn’t was from Jeana. I called her back. I didn’t tell her what Hamilton had done. We talked briefly and I told her I would come to dinner on Sunday. If I had told her about today, she would invite me for Christmas dinner at her house, which would raise far too many questions from her folks.
I didn’t call my mother back, and I continued to use the answering machine to screen my calls. Later, that evening, after dinner, my father called. I answered him. “I’m here, Dad.”
“Where have you been all day? Your mother’s been calling all day long. She’s very upset.”
“Well, gee, Dad. I’m really sorry to hear that. I’d hate to think that my actions have been the cause of all the family’s problems today.”
He didn’t respond to my sarcasm. “So, where have you been?”
“Right here. It’s Christmas. Where else would I be? Nothing’s open, remember, because it’s Christmas.”
“Carling, please, I’m sorry. Don’t be like this.” Dad doesn’t do contrite very well. The fact that he was trying said a lot.
“Why did you call, Dad?” I wasn’t in a forgiving mood. I had finished off the Chardonnay and was now at work on the jug.
“I just wanted to let you know that Hamilton confessed. It was just like you said. We’ll get you replacements for what he destroyed.”
I sighed. “Yeah? How are you going to replace Suzie’s scarf?” He didn’t answer that. “Listen, Dad, do what you want, but I just don’t care anymore. Save your money. I won’t keep it.”
“Carling, don’t be like that.”
“Like what, Dad? Like my brother? I’ll make you a deal. Get me whatever you want. I won’t throw it in the garbage. I’ll give it to the Salvation Army. How about that? Is that a good deal? We’ll both get to feel good then. Anything else, Dad? Or can I hang up now?” I asked.
“We’ll talk later in the week. I’m sorry, Carl.”
“You and me both.” I hung up the phone and disconnected it again. I poured some more wine from the jug. I was going to have a headache in the morning, but right now I just didn’t care.
I woke up the next morning with a fuzzy head and a fuzzy tongue, a useful reminder of why you shouldn’t drink to excess. It wasn’t the worst hangover I had ever had, not by a long shot, but is there such a thing as a good hangover? I swallowed a glass of water and a handful of Tylenol and took a shower. Advil would have been better, but it was 1971, and it was still prescription only. After the shower I took another load of Tylenol with some OJ, and sat down at my typewriter. I put some paper in it and sat there for a moment.
I had spent much of yesterday afternoon and evening thinking about this letter. It needed to be written, and if I didn’t, and something happened, I would never forgive myself. The cover letter came easily.
Dad,
I want you to give the envelope inside to Suzie. I can’t simply mail this, since he is reading all the mail in the house. You might not want to agree with me, but you know it’s true. I don’t know if he’s reading through your mail or Mom’s, but I know he was reading mine.
There is nothing secret about this letter, but it is Suzie’s not yours. If she wants you to see it, it’s her business. I’ll be talking to her and I’ll ask her to make sure she got the letter. Don’t tell Mom about this, it will just cause problems. Thank you.
Love,
Carling
That was the easy part. The tough letter was next.
Dear Suzie,
I am very sorry about what happened to the scarf you made me. I am sure it was very nice, and I know you put a lot of time into it. I would have been happy to wear it if I had gotten it, and if you ever have a chance, I would love another one. I’m sure it would have been very warm and comfortable.
I wanted to write about why I moved out a few weeks ago. I know it is very confusing, but it is something I needed to do. I know you don’t understand what is happening, so I am going to try and explain what I can.
Our brother, Hamilton, has a sickness, a disease, but not of the body. He has a sickness of the mind. I don’t know all that much about this sort of thing, but I do know that it’s real. Mom and Dad will say it’s not real, but even they must know something is wrong. I don’t know why he is like the way he is.
What I know about psychiatry can be written in a matchbook, but I knew something was wrong with my brother. I thought he had some form of schizophrenia, which is just a five dollar word for believing things that aren’t really true. What the sufferer thinks and what really is don’t line up. Since he was so much against me, I wondered if it was paranoid schizophrenia, but I just didn’t know. I do know that in future years, after I went off to college, his behavior got even stranger. What would happen now, I just couldn’t guess.
For years now he has been becoming very aggressive and dangerous towards me. This is only the latest thing he has done. Someday, when you are older, we can talk about this and I can explain it better. Believe me when I say that the only reason I left was because I didn’t feel safe around him anymore. If I was to keep living at home, sooner or later one of us was going to end up hurting the other. It was safer if I left.
I don’t know what is going to happen in the house now. With me gone, Hamilton might settle down. However, I have to warn you, be careful around him. I know this is awfully hard on a young lady like yourself, but watch him. If you ever think you are in any kind of danger, let Dad know. If you can’t find Dad, call me and I will come and help you. Trust Dad or me; don’t trust Mom, at least not about Hamilton.
Hamilton snoops around the house. If you have a diary, he has probably already read it. If you get mail, he will read it. He has gone through your dresser and closet. You should get a box like I did and a lock, and keep anything private in it and locked away. Ask Dad to help you buy a foot locker. If he says no, call me and I will buy you one.
Ask Dad to install a latch on the inside of your bedroom door, and a door knob that locks. Again, if he says no, call me and I will help you. I want you to be safe.
I won’t be coming around the house much in the future, but I am still in town. You can call me whenever you want to. I have included several of my business cards. Keep one in your wallet or purse. Give one to both Aunt Peg and Aunt Nan, and tell them I have moved out. Mom and Dad won’t like that, but tell them anyway, and give them a card. You won’t get in trouble.
After I had moved out, I had gone back to the printing company and had new business cards printed up, with my new phone number and my post office box address included. I also knew my parents would be loathe to admit I had moved out. This would be considered airing our dirty linen in public, and Buckmans just didn’t do that!
Remember, I’ll always be your big brother. If you ever get scared, or need help, or just want to talk to me, call me. We can talk on the phone, or I can come and meet you. I know this is confusing, but as you get older, I think you’ll understand a little better.