Love Letters to You [On Hold]

thirteen.

Entry #13
November 3rd, 2034

I saw the dead bodies on the news today, you know the people your friends killed on Halloween.

The young man with the salt and pepper beard was doing a feature story on it. We got to see all the graphic holograms of the crime scene, but maybe that's an inappropriate word to use because they didn't rule it a crime.

Can you believe that?

A total of four teenage bodies show up in the woods, and no one even cares. They just kinda assume that they're like us. They don't even try to verify or investigate to find out who could have done such a thing.

Suddenly, it's acceptable to kill random people on Halloween.

And as I write this, it reminds me of this terrible world we live in. Imagine if that was us? What if someone caught us holding hands and they dragged us to the woods and butchered us like they did with those poor, innocent souls?

Sometimes I don't think you think about these things.

When I go over to your house, you kiss me so hard like you haven't seen me in months and your parents are just upstairs. I always try to point that out to you, but you always say that everything will be okay. I kinda like that you think positive like that. Because we all need a little positive in our lives.

Like my mom, for example.

She doesn't really do much. She goes to work like all other moms, then comes home and sighs. It's the kind of sigh that just begs for attention. The kind of sigh that makes people want to ask "what's wrong?" Because if there's anything I know about my mother, it's that something is always wrong.

The issue that seems to be on her mind lately is my dad.

This morning before school, she stopped by my bedroom to say good morning. Only she didn't say good morning. She said, "Cal, I'm thinking about having another baby."

"Why?"

My mom has this thing where she looks at people with eyes that tell exactly how she's feeling. And in that moment, she gazed at me with I'm-trying-to-avoid-talking-about-your-father eyes. "I don't know. Don't you think it'd be fun to have a sister?"

No. "Why?"

She tossed her big, brown, curly hair over her shoulder. "Because you're growing up and pretty soon you'll be leaving us. I want to have someone else to take care of and bake cookies for when he or she has a bellyache."

I laughed at her. "I thought that was only my thing."

"It is," she agreed. "But who's to say it can't be your little sister's thing too?"

"No," I snapped. "She needs to find her own thing."

Mom laughed, like a real laugh. Not those fake ones that moms do to spare their children's feelings. "Anyway, I'm going to take to your father about it. We have to both be on board with it."

I shrugged. "Okay."

"So, are you on board with this?"

I shrugged again. "Sure."

"I need an honest answer, Cal."

The next thing I said was probably the rudest thing I've ever said to my mom. After I said it, I was surprised at my own words. I think it's because I've been hanging out with you too much. I don't know if you've noticed, but you are rude to your parents. A lot.

"If having another baby is an excuse to have sex with dad again, then I think you're doing it for all the wrong reasons. He already has a girlfriend that he makes love to in your bed and you have the blood curse. So, he's not going to be on board with it."

My mom stared back at me in awe. "CAL RANEY." But she couldn't think of anything better to say, so she grounded me.

And that was the first time she ever grounded me.