The Mo(u)rning Letters, Chapter 5: Shannon Mayfair Home for the Grieving

BOOK CLUB, December 2010, by Jenny McWha

Last time…  In chapter 4 "Distractions", Benjamin and Susannah got closer when she became worried about him walking to school every day in the cold when he had a perfectly good car to use. Later, she comes and wakes him up and decided to walk with him after that. The two found themselves becoming friends; that is, before they accidentally kissed and Susannah ran away.


The Mo(u)rning Letters

Chapter Five: Shannon Mayfair
Home for the Grieving


Dear Susannah,

I’m so sorry I didn’t write sooner! Please don’t take it as a sign that I don’t love you, there’s just been some hard stuff happening lately—a lot of emotions coming out in the open. 

I’m sorry I left you without saying goodbye, Suse, but I had to leave. If I’d gone and seen you, I would have lost my courage, and I need to be here. You don’t realize how much I need to be here, Susannah. Maybe one day I’ll be able to explain everything, but not today. 

Please be a good friend to Benjamin, like you are to me. He needs a good friend right now. Please tell me who he’s been dating so we can trash them together! Tell Deanna she is the sweetest girl in the world and that she brightened my day. What the heck, tell Benjamin she did too. He’ll understand. There isn’t much sun at Mayfair, no matter the colour of the walls. I have to go now, there are a lot of letters to write. I love you, Susannah.

Yours forever,
Eleanor

…

Dearest Nora:

I was so happy when I got your letter! You have no idea how long I waited, checking the mailbox every day like an idiot. Oh well, it finally came. I had to practically rip it out of the mailman’s hands. I think he is more afraid of me than the Fouser’s dog Lulu now.  

I think I am failing math, barely passing bio, but doing great in history and chemistry. Don’t ask why I can do chemistry but not biology. Why did I take two sciences this year? You told me to do law because it was a bird course, but no, I didn’t listen. My parents have a meeting with the principle and I am absolutely terrified. They can’t kick me out for failing math, can they? I am so dropping it in grade twelve. 

Benjamin still walks in the freezing cold every day. I’m still walking with him so he isn’t lonely. He’s such a mess, Eleanor, but I shouldn’t be telling you this. He and I have gotten to know each other a lot better, though. I was always a little scared of him before but he’s so nice and understanding with you gone. It’s nice to have someone who is basically going through the same thing as you. He understands. 

Miracles of miracles, Benjamin amazingly does not have a girlfriend. I heard that he went on one date with Elizabeth Jenkins, you know from our English class last year? Apparently he made out with her outside her front door, looked at her for a second, and just walked away without a word. He never called her again or even acknowledged her in the hallway. Not that it’s a big deal, but she started dating Benjamin’s friend Sean the next day anyways. He didn’t even seem a smidgeon jealous (not that he ever is, I guess). It’s just weird; Benjamin without a girlfriend is like a dog without fur. It’s possible but they just look WRONG. 

I now realize that pretty much my whole letter is about Benjamin. Oh well, he probably doesn’t tell you much in his letters, so I need to give you the scoop. 

I hope all is everything is going okay in that prison and they let you out soon. I miss you so much and I can’t wait for you to get home. 

Love Suse.  

…

Shannon Mayfair Home for the Grieving

Dear Suse,

I’m so sorry my letter took so long! I would have made it more of a priority had I known you made the trek through the snow to your mailbox every day. Horror of horrors! You must be made of ice, woman.  

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease you in your sad, sad, state. I swear, I’m done now. I love your letter, and I would much rather think about what Benjamin or you are doing much more than myself. My life is pretty boring right now—I don’t do much more than talk. Although I played a mean game of "go fish" yesterday. You should have been there! It was with this seventy-year-old woman who keeps thinking that I’m her granddaughter. Her granddaughter never visits so I feel really sorry for her and just play along. It’s nice to make someone happy every once in a while. 

Enough about me, though. My life is nothing special right now, but you have everything to celebrate. Don’t get too worried about bio—it’s only grade eleven and they don’t even look at these marks for universities. As soon as I get back I’ll help you out. I study a lot here, so my correspondence courses are really easy. Maybe you should just stick with chem next year, it’s not like you want to be a marine biologist or anything. And don’t give me that look. You hate science and would never consider it for a career, I know you. 

I’m glad you’re looking after Benjamin. But what you tell me makes me worried. He’s always been like a rock, you know? Nothing phases him. To be the thing that makes him like this makes me a little weirded out. 

I haven’t told anyone, but he’s the reason I came here. He was so worried about me and I knew that I needed to do something. Benjamin can’t spend his whole life making sure I don’t go off my rocker. Ha. Don’t be worried about me, Suse, and tell him he can’t be worried, either. I have to go now,

Eleanor.  
…

Shannon Mayfair Home for the Grieving

Dear Cornelia,

I wish your letter could have been longer. I miss talking to you the most. Maybe because we’re both having a hard time now, but probably just because you’re my big sister and you make everything feel better. Remember when Kyle Lanston dumped me and I felt like I’d never live again? You made me feel like Kyle was just a bug under my shoe, and I thank you for that, Cornelia. I guess I never new what it felt for your life to be over until Beth died.

Isn’t it wonderful that I can say her name now? I wanted to show you that I feel a little better every day now. I’ll be home before you know it, to be the perfect auntie. Have you thought up any names yet? I’m particular for Grace and Felicity for girls and Sean and Oliver for boys, but that’s just my opinion. Don’t steal them! I want them for my own kids. I talked to Hannah and she said that they would probably let me out of here for a week or so around the time of the birth. Hannah says that her older sister just had a baby and how she knows how important it is for a sister to be there. Benjamin and Dad just won’t understand. And I want Billy to just go do nasty things to himself and never even think of the babies. He’ll have his own soon enough, if he doesn’t leave Melanie, that is.

I’m sorry, Cornelia, I’ve probably made you bawl now. I just hate his guts. Benjamin and me, we never liked him, but wanted to keep quiet for your sake. I’ll just stop digging my own grave now. I have to go, but I love you.

Love,
Eleanor

…

Eleanor:

Why haven’t you written us lately? Your mother and I want to talk to you, young lady. You can’t just write to your sister and brother, it doesn’t work this way. We want to know that everything is fine. Please write back as soon as you get this, sweetie.

Dad.  

…

Mom and Dad:

Everything’s fine.  Eleanor.

…

Dear Eleanor,

I knew you’d do it, even three hours away. You’ve thrown mom and dad into a fit. They saw your letter and swore that there was no improvement. Both Cornelia and I told them that we saw improvement in our letters, even showed them how long they were. They just yelled more. You’ve done well, kid, and see you soon. I think Cornelia is about to pop, so Dad said he’d drive down for you this weekend.

Ben.

…

Dear Eleanor,

I can’t believe you came back, and then you left again. I know that you have to get all better, but why can’t you get all better here, with all of us? 

I wanted to cry when I saw you, Eleanor. Did I tell you that? Probably a million times, I know. You still looked… sad. But you had some of you back in your eyes, and we could joke and talk about things. I think you should be able to come home now, but Benjamin reminded me that you always get better around this time, but they sent you away so you would really get better. I know this, but it’s so hard when your best friend just isn’t there anymore.

Please write back, Eleanor. I miss you.
Love Susannah :)

…

Dear Eleanor:

It is three o’clock in the morning and I finally have a spare minute to write to you. I would rather sleep, but I know that I haven’t written lately. I love the babies but they keep me up all the time. Mom said she was going to help, but she’s been working on a couple of really difficult cases, so of course, there’s no sign of her at home. It’s hard, with two of them. I feel like if one settles the other has to have a dirty diaper, or can’t sleep, or just wants to fuss. We also think Harriet is colicky. She can never be quiet, poor little thing. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all the boring things involved in motherhood. You have a while until then.  

I just feel like it’s all I can think about. Or the only thing I want to think about. Because if I stop thinking about the twins I start thinking about HIM and then I feel like such a stupid idiot for thinking he was the one I should spend the rest of my life with. Great, now I just stained the letter. Sorry. I don’t have enough energy to make a new one.

I hope all is well with you, Eleanor. Get better soon and come home, the twins miss their auntie. I love you, Eleanor, and I know you can get through this.

Cornelia.  

…

Shannon Mayfair Home for the Grieving

Dear Susannah:

I miss you so much, too. I wanted to ask my parents if I could just stay, but I knew I had to come back here. And now Cornelia has the twins and she has no one to help her and I feel like I would be much more help there than here. I know. But I also know that this weird place is actually HELPING and that means I should stay here. 

It was so great seeing you again, Susannah, and you made me laugh so much. That’s one thing I miss here. I don’t think I could really call anyone a comedian in this place. Other than the counselors but they just make bad jokes that make everyone laugh half-heartedly. I don’t know. They told me only a couple of more months.  You can wait that long, right? My letters may be a little sparse from now on because we’re doing some stuff, and some of it takes a long time. Don’t ask what it is, just know that it’s helping. You haven’t been talking much about Benjamin lately. Has your magical new friendship turned to ashes? It’s alright, I know he’s a stupid boy, you don’t want to be friends with him anyways. I haven’t heard from him lately: tell him he needs to write me a letter, pronto.  

Well, Suse, that’s all I have time for right now. I’ll be back before you know it.

Eleanor.

…

Dear Benjamin,

Please tell me. About the dream, I mean. I need to hear it.

-Eleanor.  

…

Eleanor,

Are you sure you want to hear it? I know it may get bad if I do. So this is your warning, I don’t want you to go down hill again. Okay, I guess I’ll start.

It was, oh I don’t know—July? I think it was really hot, like so hot that your ice cream would melt right of the cone in two seconds flat. It was the day that you begged me to come walk the whole 20 minutes to your elementary school: you were in grade eight. And then we took the bus to the hospital. We were in Beth’s room, and she didn’t look like herself, not at all. You were upset, like always. I think you still believed that Beth was going to get through it all, you know? Somehow you just couldn’t believe that she was going to die. Mom always joked that you didn’t believe in mortality. Not to me, mind you, only when she and dad were talking and thought that none of us kids were around. Well, Beth pretty much told you that she was going to die, and you just couldn’t handle it, so you went to cry in the washroom or something. For some reason, I wanted to stay. And Beth, she didn’t look so good. Eleanor, it was like she was always wearing a mask: for you, for her parents, for her doctors and nurses and all the technicians that poked and prodded her every day. But I guess with me, she could let it down. She always used to tell me things that she couldn’t talk to other people about. I can’t even explain it, Eleanor.
But she told me something that day. She said that she’d never kissed anyone—God! The girl was dying and she was worried that she’s never been kissed. I didn’t even think about it, Nora, I just kissed her. And it was wonderful. And I know you don’t want to hear about your brother kissing your dead best friend but I don’t understand, Nora. You have to help me figure the hell out why I had a dream about this and why I can’t stop thinking about it and why Beth won’t leave me

Ben

.…

Benjamin:

You loved her.


Stay tuned next month for Chapter 6 and comment below on how you like it so far!

~ Jenny


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