A Letter To My Brother | Teen Ink

A Letter To My Brother

November 24, 2013
By CassieK SILVER, Yorktown, Virginia
CassieK SILVER, Yorktown, Virginia
7 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer, but the right answer. Let us not seek to fix the blame for the past. Let us accept our own responsibility for the future."

Dear Sam,

I don’t know if you can send letters to people that are in prison. I think I might have heard about it on a TV show, but those are fake right? And this is real life. Momma said that maybe I should try to write to you and tell you what’s going on with the family. I think she only asked me because I’m the only one that was able to come in to see you the last time we visited.
Anyways, I miss you a lot. Tons of things have happened. Mary Jane is engaged. She’s marrying this real preppy loser. You should see this guy, Sam. He’s real tall and has so much mousse in his hair you can’t tell if he’s a boy or an oil slick. He wears his letterman jacket around everywhere and these Converses like he’s got something to prove. And don’t tell anybody, but Mary Jane says he failed just about every class so he can’t go to college. Momma says that Mary Jane’s just real lonely because you left, and that she jumped on the first guy she found around town. Someone also told Momma at her Bridge club meeting that Mary Jane’s pregnant! Maybe she’ll be having her baby right around the time you get out. I’ll go see her with you if you want. That would be okay with me. Momma said maybe I shouldn’t tell you about Mary Jane but you went and put yourself in jail, Sammy, so I figure this can’t hurt you more than what’s already happened.
Let me tell you about the family now. School just let out for the summer. I just finished the sixth grade and I’m real proud of myself. I think you’d be too. No one else really is around here, proud of me, I mean. They all just worry about you. It’s funny that they worry all hours of the day but no one would get out of the car when we drove four hours up there to see you. After that trip, Momma took down all the pictures of you in the house. I miss seeing your face, Sam.
Josh and Susan are doing okay. Susan cries a lot, which irritates me because we share a room now. We used Susan’s room to rent out to borders to help pay off your bail money. Anyways, I lay awake at listening to her just sniffle the whole night through. It’s exhausting. Susan made Momma buy her a new pair of shoes since she was just so broken up about you leaving. Josh is pretty much same as when you left. He made the high school baseball team. He was the pitcher at the first game. He pitched a perfect game, Sam! Oh, Momma cooked us such a good dinner that night I’m full just thinking about it.
Josh and Susan give me funny looks when I bring up your name. They look at Momma and Daddy to see if they’re alright. I have no idea why. It’s not like you’re dead or something and I’m sick of everyone acting like you are. Josh says if I keep talking about you, I’ll turn out like you. I don’t think that’s the case, no offense, Sam. You just always did understand me and I miss having you around to take me to my dance recitals and get ice cream on hot days like today was.
Momma looks sad now. Her hair is a lot grayer than when you left. She even looks older too, like in her face. Gran came down right after you left and said ‘Heavens Molly, look at those bags under your eyes!’ Momma and I went out and bought eye cream after that. Daddy dresses differently now too. He wears t-shirts and pajama pants, instead of suits. He doesn’t go to the office anymore either. Momma sells real estate now to ‘bring home the bacon,’ as she says.
I’m real good now that it’s summer, Sam. I just really need you here. I cry sometimes, Sammy. I know you wouldn’t want me to, but I do. It’s not easy being the little sister of a delinquent.
We went to your graduation and saw the rest of your class walk across the stage at the high school. Mary Jane looked real pretty, but I can see how she might look a little pregnant too. We took pictures, I can show you them when you get back.
I feel like I’m walking on eggshells all the time at home now, Sam. It would be easier if you were here. You’re the only one that could make you being gone more bearable. At least in jail they’ll help you with your drinking problem. Or that’s what Momma told me. I’m happy about that. Drunk Sam is not very nice to me sometimes. I hope you write me back. We’re coming to visit you on your birthday in July. Momma calls it ‘the big one-eight.’ I don’t know if she’ll come inside this time, but I will. I love you, Sam. Stay out of trouble.


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