Status: Coming Soon
Dear Randy
The First Response
I waited three weeks, impatiently asking my boyfriend, Brian, every day, "Has he sent anything back yet?" Brian would always sigh and say, "No, Babe, not yet."
"Maybe he doesn't want me to write him anymore," I fretted, chewing on my lip.
Brian, always so grounding, placed a hand on my leg and stared at me with his smoldering green eyes, "Babe, just give him time, any number of things could be keeping him, he is in jail, it will take him time."
His words didn't relax me but the way he loved me sent my mind into a different direction and I grabbed him by the shirt and mashed my lips against his.
The next morning, I sat straight up in the bed, almost late for work. I shook him awake and started getting dressed, "Oh fuck, I'm going to be late, going to be late!" I spat, pulling on my work shirt.
"Calm down," he replied, groggily, "We'll get there in time."
I smiled at him, he was always sexy when he first woke up, "If we're late, I'm going to punish you when we get home," I threatened, grinning wickedly.
After, I got off work, seven hours of 'What kind of bread would you like?', Brian pulled up smiling excitedly at me. I got in the car, finding myself not able to suppress my own grin, "What?"
"A letter came for you today," he replied, holding up a dirty looking envelope with tiny cursive on the front.
I grabbed it from him and ripped it open shocked by the size of it, four pages! I set to reading, trying to ignore Brian's hands travelling up and down my leg.
Dear Blue,
Honestly, I have been looking for anything to fill my endless time here, I am one of the 'well-behaved inmates' here and I get to do outside shifts and I even have a job, but I always seem to have too much time. I was so excited to get your letter. I was hesitant at first, wondering if this was a joke, but I figured, what the hell. Sorry, if I cuss too much, it comes with the package. Let me start first. I have way too much time and I hope you have enough time too. Then you can ask me all the questions you want. I will answer one of your questions, of course I keep your brother and your picture on my wall, sweetheart. The first time, I seen you two, I fell in love! These two little humans my heart Mini made. Anything Mini made or touched was beautiful or became that way. So, before I went away, your grandmother gave me a picture of you and your brother. It is one of the possessions I have made sure never to lose.
I know we don't know each other now, but I wish we did. I really do, Dear. Okay, so let me start out by saying, I was poor. Super poor. We lived in the equivalent of a shack. It was a one bedroom house with dirt floors in the living room. I'm not lying either. We got one Christmas present and one birthday present a year. The birthday present was usually shoes, unless we really wanted something else that year, like if we begged for it. I only begged one time for something different and that was my mother's engagement ring, I wanted to give it to Mini.
Anyway, I grew up thinking I was invincible. Then, I met Mini but I'll get to that probably in the next letter. I stole all of the time and gambled and drank and never came home till late. Out of my six other brothers and sisters, I was the wildest one. I was so wild because my father was so controlling, but abusively, like your real father.
Mornings would start out with a whipping from his belt because I snored too loud. After I got home from school I would get one for scratching my nose or arm or something. At night, by the time I was angry at him and didn't care what my punishment would be, I would say something back and I would pass out from the pain on my ass.
So, my whole life, I was tormented and stressed out by my father. So, who could blame me? When I was 16, I got my first job, stripping tobacco and detasseling corn. That was the hardest job of my life. Two dollars an hour. I never seen any of it, I was forced to give it straight to my father.
The reason I am where I am now, is because of my father, although I bet Mini blames herself, especially because I blamed her, at first, it was never her fault, just his and mine. Mine and my stupidity.
Next time I write, I'll tell you about the first time I met your mother. Sorry this letter took so long, I rewrote it for three weeks and decided that it was finally as well written as your first letter and so, I finally am finished. I hope you write again. I will not write back unless you write first. That's the way it will have to work, I don't want to be wasting cigarette money for no responses. Give your mom and brother my love, you don't have to tell them they're from me. By the way, I won't say a word to anybody, these letters are between us and the postal service.
Love ya kid,
Randy
"Oh my gosh, we have to get home, so I can write him again," I squealed, making Brian jump, "it was too short. For four pages, there was not much here!"
He smiled at my excitement and made a show by revving the cars engine.
"Maybe he doesn't want me to write him anymore," I fretted, chewing on my lip.
Brian, always so grounding, placed a hand on my leg and stared at me with his smoldering green eyes, "Babe, just give him time, any number of things could be keeping him, he is in jail, it will take him time."
His words didn't relax me but the way he loved me sent my mind into a different direction and I grabbed him by the shirt and mashed my lips against his.
The next morning, I sat straight up in the bed, almost late for work. I shook him awake and started getting dressed, "Oh fuck, I'm going to be late, going to be late!" I spat, pulling on my work shirt.
"Calm down," he replied, groggily, "We'll get there in time."
I smiled at him, he was always sexy when he first woke up, "If we're late, I'm going to punish you when we get home," I threatened, grinning wickedly.
After, I got off work, seven hours of 'What kind of bread would you like?', Brian pulled up smiling excitedly at me. I got in the car, finding myself not able to suppress my own grin, "What?"
"A letter came for you today," he replied, holding up a dirty looking envelope with tiny cursive on the front.
I grabbed it from him and ripped it open shocked by the size of it, four pages! I set to reading, trying to ignore Brian's hands travelling up and down my leg.
Dear Blue,
Honestly, I have been looking for anything to fill my endless time here, I am one of the 'well-behaved inmates' here and I get to do outside shifts and I even have a job, but I always seem to have too much time. I was so excited to get your letter. I was hesitant at first, wondering if this was a joke, but I figured, what the hell. Sorry, if I cuss too much, it comes with the package. Let me start first. I have way too much time and I hope you have enough time too. Then you can ask me all the questions you want. I will answer one of your questions, of course I keep your brother and your picture on my wall, sweetheart. The first time, I seen you two, I fell in love! These two little humans my heart Mini made. Anything Mini made or touched was beautiful or became that way. So, before I went away, your grandmother gave me a picture of you and your brother. It is one of the possessions I have made sure never to lose.
I know we don't know each other now, but I wish we did. I really do, Dear. Okay, so let me start out by saying, I was poor. Super poor. We lived in the equivalent of a shack. It was a one bedroom house with dirt floors in the living room. I'm not lying either. We got one Christmas present and one birthday present a year. The birthday present was usually shoes, unless we really wanted something else that year, like if we begged for it. I only begged one time for something different and that was my mother's engagement ring, I wanted to give it to Mini.
Anyway, I grew up thinking I was invincible. Then, I met Mini but I'll get to that probably in the next letter. I stole all of the time and gambled and drank and never came home till late. Out of my six other brothers and sisters, I was the wildest one. I was so wild because my father was so controlling, but abusively, like your real father.
Mornings would start out with a whipping from his belt because I snored too loud. After I got home from school I would get one for scratching my nose or arm or something. At night, by the time I was angry at him and didn't care what my punishment would be, I would say something back and I would pass out from the pain on my ass.
So, my whole life, I was tormented and stressed out by my father. So, who could blame me? When I was 16, I got my first job, stripping tobacco and detasseling corn. That was the hardest job of my life. Two dollars an hour. I never seen any of it, I was forced to give it straight to my father.
The reason I am where I am now, is because of my father, although I bet Mini blames herself, especially because I blamed her, at first, it was never her fault, just his and mine. Mine and my stupidity.
Next time I write, I'll tell you about the first time I met your mother. Sorry this letter took so long, I rewrote it for three weeks and decided that it was finally as well written as your first letter and so, I finally am finished. I hope you write again. I will not write back unless you write first. That's the way it will have to work, I don't want to be wasting cigarette money for no responses. Give your mom and brother my love, you don't have to tell them they're from me. By the way, I won't say a word to anybody, these letters are between us and the postal service.
Love ya kid,
Randy
"Oh my gosh, we have to get home, so I can write him again," I squealed, making Brian jump, "it was too short. For four pages, there was not much here!"
He smiled at my excitement and made a show by revving the cars engine.
♠ ♠ ♠
Questions/Comments?