Maria.

Letter 4.

Dear Carse,

                       Your last letter was moving. Thank you for sharing all that with me, it did help. My family is growing stronger everyday. My sister is even getting married, her girlfriend proposed yesterday. They think after the wedding, they're going to find a sperm donor. I wish them only good luck. Oh, did you hear? Maria's case was reopened. They found a new lead, or rather, a new body. They think they'll be able to get him this time. I hope for Maria's sake they do. 

She's been getting angrier and angrier since I've known her. Like, yesterday, I left a clay plant pot out of the living room table and woke up this morning to find it smashed into a couple dozen pieces. I think she's turning into a poltergeist and I'm worried. Worried about her, worried about my safety, but mostly worried about what might happen after the police catch the guy. I think Maria would fade from this world, into the next, but she thinks that she'll just stick around. She said that in a sarcastic tone, with a sigh following, so I don't know if she meant it.

I wasn't kidding in my first letter, you would like Maria. She's has a great sense of dark humor, she knows how to make you laugh, how to make you cry and she knows how to make you live. I asked a girl out. Her name is Elena, dark hair, brown eyes, big, toothy grin. I like her, but I wouldn't have asked her out if Maria hadn't talk me into it. I think I'm the only person ever to enjoy living with a ghost. Maria had taught me so much about living, it's kind of scary how little I really knew. I mean, I could get run over by a bus tomorrow.

It's strange how little we think about death, about how everything we choose can and will lead to the ending of our lives. Maria didn't know that guy was going to kill her. If she decided men were stupid that night, she might have lived well into her eighties, but we'll never known and I find that rather upsetting. I'll never know what my life would have been if I stuck with learning magic tricks, if I had gotten better grades in history, if I had never been born with ADHD. I don't know, turns me a little green thinking about lives better than mine, that I had the chance of having. I know dwelling on what could have been won't help me,  I really do, but I can't help, but to wonder.

As I write this, I'm having a bad day. My mind keeps wondering off and my fingers keep hitting the wrong keys because they're twitchy.  I thought about restarting my medication, but then I figure, if I can get through my Dad's death, I can get through this and I've lived with this my whole life. After I finish writing this, I'm going to help Maria write her book. A short story really, probably not even 10,000 words, but she wants too and frankly, I owe it to her.

You may call me a good friend, but I'm not. I'm just being her friend and friends help each other. That's what they do. I'm sorry my letter will be short, but I can't really focus on writing. At least, not if I want to help Maria afterwards. 

                                                                         Best wishes, Arron.