She reads the first one, frowns, and then barks out a laugh that turns a few heads in front of us. “What did you say to that?” she asks. She picks up the next page, disappointed to see that it’s not my response, but another letter from Luca.
“He never sent any of mine back, so all I have are the ones from him. But I remember these like I just got them yesterday. I can probably tell you what I wrote back.”
ChapterSeven
THE POOR BLIND WOMAN
Luca
The thing about Naomi was that no matter how mean I was, or how terrible of a mood I was in when I wrote to her, she always wrote back. And I was really, really mean. For a year after my dad left, I used her as a virtual punching bag. I never told her what happened because I didn’t want her to pity me like everyone else did. If I vented to Ben or to my girlfriend, they would offer solutions that never worked or apologies even though they did nothing wrong. But when I vented to Naomi in the form of a mean letter – usually something that I wished I could say to my dad – she fired back with something equally mean or disturbing, and would often make me laugh.
We were in high school when the tone of our letters began to change. Gone were the innocent insults of children without the life experience to back up what we were saying. I’m not sure at what point we crossed that line, or who crossed it first, but neither of us was backing down.
Dear Luca,
I’m supposed to be working on an essay right now, but I can’t concentrate because my cousins are in my room giving each other makeovers and trying to talk me into getting one. Courtney is tweezing Bella’s eyebrows and Bella is screaming. It’s really hard to write about the civil war with this going on, but it’s making me think of you.
I would love to pluck each of your leg hairs one by one with a pair of tweezers. It seems like it would be really satisfying to watch you cry out in pain. Then I hope that you get an ingrown hair when it all starts growing back, and when you pick at it, it becomes infected and you end up losing your leg. Then when your doctor gives you a prosthetic, it’s a couple of inches too short which gives you an awful limp for the rest of your life.
Love,
Naomi
Dear Naomi,
My mom tweezes her eyebrows and always talks about getting herself waxed. I don’t understand why girls put themselves through that much pain. Just use a razor or something. You should let your cousins give you that makeover, though. I’m sure you really need it.
I want to know why you’re so obsessed with my leg hair and the idea of me losing a limb. Is it because you secretly want to come to San Diego and take care of me? I’ll let you tweeze my legs if it means I have you on your knees in front of me.
Love,
Luca
Dear Luca,
It’s gross that you always have to make everything sexual. I guess I’m not surprised since you never get laid. You’ll probably be a virgin until you’re fifty and some poor blind woman at the nursing home accidentally fondles you because she thinks you’re her husband. You’re lucky that her husband also has a tiny dick, so she doesn’t even notice the difference.
Love,
Naomi
Dear Naomi,
You’re wrong. I’m not a virgin, and I actually have had plenty of girlfriends, so I’m not going to end up alone at a nursing home like you. You’ll probably be that blind woman playing with the wrong micro-penis.
Also, I don’t have a small dick. I can send a picture next time if you want to see for yourself?
Love,
Luca
Dear Luca,
You probably go through so many girlfriends because you’re really bad in bed. Just because you have a big dick doesn’t mean you’re good in bed, and going through a lot of girlfriends doesn’t mean you’re not going to end up alone. Also, I’ll pass on the dick pic. I don’t want my poor mailbox to get chlamydia.
Love,
Naomi
