29 December 2014
My Beloved Larkin,
May this letter find you well as we enter The New Year. I want to emphasize here that your declaration, “Our friendship, our being brought together, is an incredible godsend!” means so much to me, my gratitude is beyond measure. No gift, no other expression of compassion, no kind deed (of even the greatest magnitude) can top those awesome words…except perhaps laying down one’s life.
But I have already shown you by brave actions, that I am indeed willing and happy to surrender my existence if that’s what it takes to give you ultimate fulfillment. But such a tragic outcome is not in the cards, so let’s not go there. Suffice it for me to say:
What a terribly sweet man you are, Larkin Kelsey, for speaking those awesome words, regardless of the many times you’ve thrust a sword into this bleating heart (both before, and since, then)!
It brings me great joy to shower you with gifts, regardless if you do not thank me for them, or even acknowledge my offerings. For how can any of my thoughtful gifts come close to your noble confession? I am humbled and honored…and love you that much more, as a result. But I must admit:
You have a strange way of showing me your love, and which causes me incredible anxiety, grief and confusion. Yet that awesome declaration (as quoted in the first paragraph) is indeed an anchor for my soul that craves so much to be Your Sterling Companion. You are a Most Unique Fellow, as well as Divinely Beautiful to these tearful eyes! (But let me assure you: my tears are those of joy…mostly.)
It is my hope that my volley of silly postcards has brought tons of smiles to your glorious mug, as well as the occasional pang of the heart. As I’m sure you realize, the concept of sending you postcards was born of Zachary’s claim that you rarely even open my letters, let alone read them…but toss them into the garbage, or lay them down in a pile. So I have him to thank for that (ironically). For in sending you postcards, you are more likely to read the contents.
I often fantasize the day you finally phone me, or send me your first letter or card. I’m therefore sure you can imagine the torment I go through, each and every day as I anticipate such a kind return for my patience and devotion. Yet the answering machine and my mailbox remain vacant of your sweet spirit, despite the many years we have been in this prolonged and embattled association.
Wish I were a fly on the wall, to see the expression on your face as you unwrap my most recent gift. Especially my latest prize to you, for Christmas 2014…and which I heartfully presented you on December 23rd at Twin Peaks Tavern. The lovely silver tie with purple stripes, bound about that Scooby-Doo box (which originally contained 500 Scooby-Doo stickers, but which I replaced with a Scooby-Doo beanie doll dressed up as The Nutcracker).
And the other contents dropped into that blue gift-bag I purchased at Walgreens: a music CD of Irish-Celtic songs, the Yuletide dream catcher, and my “Little Match Boy” tale I composed just for you. Though my angels tell me the day will come soon, that I may view–like a DVD recording, though not really–all those moments I have been denied witness, once these trials you’ve put me through have ceased, and we are finally brought together in each other’s arms.
After some days’ hindsight, I now realize you summoned me (telepathically) to Twin Peaks, that I may present you with my latest gift in lieu of my apprehension that you wouldn’t accept. Just as you summoned me in March 2012 to Moby Dick, that I discover you now hang out in The Castro…and likewise called me to The Cafe in February 2014, as a test of our psychic link. Here’s how it went down:
Two days before I handed you my Christmas package, I attempted to gift you with it while you were seated at Twin Peaks Tavern. You saw me through the plate glass, but did not acknowledge…I guess because your housemate Zachary was there (and it was very crowded), thus accepting my gift at that moment would cause some difficulty as a result. So I did not linger more than a half minute before proceeding back hovel. “Never mind,” I thought, “I’ll try again another day when, hopefully, he sits alone.”
Three confrontations occurred between us before I could bless you with my gift…and for which reason I concluded that you most likely would turn me down. You scowled each time you saw me walking towards you, which of course broke my heart, but which also caused me to affirm my love, regardless. For I refuse to be duped by your rejections, especially since you confessed to me back in May, that “our friendship, our being brought together, is an incredible godsend.” Yet had that most kind admission never occurred, I’d still remain forthright in continuing to reach out to you! Thus the 23rd arrived, and I wrestled with my demons:
“Surely he won’t accept my gift at this point,” I mused with much angst, “But so what? After all, it’s only a material gesture, which I can mail to him post-Christmas, when my next Social Security automatic deposit arrives, January 3rd.”
As the short day diminished into night, I grew feisty:
“Wait a minute, why should I be such a coward? It’s Tuesday, the night he plays pool at The Cafe. I’ll just bring the gift there and attempt to hand it over. If he humiliates me and drives me away, I’ll just shrug my shoulders, tell him I love him anyway, and be gone!”
With that determination in mind, I marched with the blue gift-bag, across Market and up the street…then climbed the stairs to The Cafe. But the place was empty. So I sighed and ambled back down, hoping to find you seated in Twin Peaks Tavern.
Sure enough, there you were, camped on the corner stool of the bar’s short edge. chatting it up with an elderly buffoon on the lengthy side, with a vacant chair between you two. A space perfectly situated for me to drop my present, spout a few kind words and run off. But would you rebuff me with cruel retort, or accept my gift in friendly grace? I did not care at this moment, for opportunity struck, and I was not about to be a spineless turd. In face of the challenge that the last time I entered Twin Peaks to wish you a lovely evening, you turned to me and said: “Don’t ever come in here again.”
With that, I entered the tavern, dropped my gift onto the empty stool, and declared to you, My Guardian Dragon:
“Merry Christmas and God bless you!” Then pointed to the bag: “It contains a very nice Scooby-Doo gift.”
I quickly departed in order to deflect your possible rejection, and show respect for your wish to be left alone, no matter the reason. For the last thing I desired, was that you shove the Christmas present back into my hands. But to my surprise you offered no opposition. As I departed Twin Peaks and looked back at the window where you sat, I saw you reach an extended arm towards me, with an outstretched hand like a claw.
I beamed with joy and threw you an ecstatic guffaw before turning my face away and returning to my humble SRO. One thing I love so much about you, Larkin, in spite of your frequent hostility towards me, is this:
You have never turned down any gift I bring to you. In fact, you’ve accepted every single one with incredible grace. This latest being no exception, though I was cursed with doubts that arose from recent conflict. But only today have I come to realize that the argument I had with myself (whether or not to present my gift to you face-to-face) was really a telepathic communique between you and yours truly, where you assured:
“It’s okay, Zeke. I’d be delighted to receive your gift tonight. And I have set up a pleasant scenario where you can come in and bless me with your lovely present, without any harassment whatsoever.”
Sure enough, Zachary wasn’t there. Nor was the tavern crowded at all. An empty chair awaited my gift, and no one else was present to obstruct my desire to wish you a beautiful holiday season. The path was clear, as if The Angels Themselves had paved the way.
And I’m sure they did.
So this is what I taped to the back of the envelope: