The Letter
Chapter 1Adjusting his trademark glasses, Specs McPherson sat in a booth at Tibby's, accompanied only by his kid sister, Dizzy. He was bent over a tattered notebook, his eyes fixed upon it. He was chewing nervously on the end of his pencil. Dizzy was very uninterested at what he was doing, and craned her neck around the room, looking for Les Jacobs, a fellow newsie, and current object of her affections.
"How's this sound, Dizz, 'I lie awake at night thinking of how you've changed my life, and how pathetic my existence is without you.' That sound good?" Specs asked expectantly.
"Well, if you want to sound like a desperate shmuck, it's great!" she replied with mock exuberance.
Specs sneered and hit her cap over her eyes. She pushed it back up almost instantly, and smiled. She loved her brother more than he'd ever realize. He was the only family she had left in the world, but when he tried to write love letters, she'd deny ever being related to him.
Specs went back to his composition, thoroughly discouraged at his sister's lack of sympathy. It was merely yesterday that his girl, Tara, had broken things off with him. When she broke it to him, he was devastated beyond words. He'd sat there, hands holding the sides of his head, while she explained that what was going on between them was not working for her. Later that day, he saw her walking hand-in-hand with a newsie he wasn't familiar with.
Writing Tara a love letter was his final and desperate attempt at winning her back, and Specs would ask anyone in view for his or her opinion. Even David kept clear of him, and he usually gave advice to anyone who'd listen to him. Specs drove the other newsies crazy, reading the lines of hackneyed prose he'd written. Dizzy suffered the most, as she was his sister, and had certain obligations as a sibling.
She didn't understand how after only one day, he was already a brooding mess of a person. She heard from Jack that he hadn't slept last night; instead, sitting on the fire escape, pen and paper in hand. He'd kept the boys up all night, banging his head against the metal bars, and wailing, "Why me, Tara? Why me?"
If his sleepless night gained him anything, he didn't show it. He'd only become determined to win her back, and decided that writing a love letter was the only way it was possible. He didn't sell papers that morning, just sat solemnly in his bed, writing. He left only to meet Dizzy at Tibby's for lunch, as he'd promised.
"Ya know El, she was horrible to you. Made ya take her out, even when you were strapped fer cash. Made you go outa yer way to sell with her, and she wasn't even that pretty," Dizzy offered hopefully.
"How DARE you talk about my girl like that. I don't talk about Les like that," Specs snapped back.
"Elliot James McPherson, get it through yer thick skull. She left you for someone else! She doesn't like you anymore; she used you, and got rid of you. Life goes on, so pick yer bum up off the floor, and MOVE ON," Dizzy shouted, attracting the attention of the entire restaurant. Blushing, she sunk in her seat, as Les spotted her, and sunk down in the seat next to her.
"Who're we hidin' from, Dizz?" Les asked cheerfully.
"Ev'ryone," she replied sulkily.
Les inexpertly slipped a "comforting" arm around Dizzy, causing her to turn an unsightly scarlet color. Specs looked up from his notepad, and snickered. Dizzy sat up indignantly and sneered, "'Least I got someone."
Specs frowned and left the booth, seeking solitude in another corner of the room. "Portentous little–" he began, but was interrupted by Fiver, who had had about enough of his attitude.
"Leave her be, she's got bigger fish to fry, McPherson," she said, gesturing to the booth where Dizzy was now giving Les a black eye. As it turns out, he'd gotten a little fresh, and Dizzy was none too happy. All the restaurant's patrons had a good laugh, until Jack, who just happened to walk in Tibby's, saved poor Les from Dizzy's "fists of fury".
"Les, I thought I taught ya ta treat goils betta den dat, and Dizzy, dat wasn't very lady-like," he scolded both of them.
"Yeah, well he started it," she grumbled.
After savin Les' face, he headed straight for Fiver and Specs. "Fivah, Race's lookin' foah ya at da lodgin' house, said somethin' about pokah," he said. "An' I'd kinda like ta talk ta Specs, man ta man, ya know."
Fiver gave Jack a knowing wink, and headed out to meet Racetrack. Jack sat in the seat Fiver just vacated, and rubbed his tired eyes. "Specs, pal, heard Tara, uh, let ya go. An' usually, I'd letcha deal wit it by yerself, but dis is affectin' da whole house. I know she just broke up witcha yestaday, an' ya seem ta be takin' it real hard, but ya need ta get over her. Yer torturin' yerself. An' it's takin' a toll on da rest of us. Ya can't keep all a' us up at night, howlin' 'bout a goil. I don't say dis often, but sometimes goils ain't half da trouble dey're worth," Jack explained sympathetically.
"That what you wanted to tell me? That girls cause too much trouble for us? I know that, but I love her, Jack, I love her. And I know that deep down she loves me too. She's just afraid, Jack. Afraid of committing, she's just plain scared, Jack. I never told her I loved her," he said, his brow furrowed in agony.
"If I heard you talking like that, I'd be scared too…" Jack muttered under his breath, than added, "Well, she's moved on, Specs. Ya desiove bettah," before Specs could ask what he'd said.
"I know she loves me. I just know it," he said, trying to convince Jack nearly as much as he was trying to convince himself. Tara loved him. Right?
"I didn't wanna have ta say dis, Specs, but desperate times call fa desperate measures. Tara was sneakin' round on ya. Yer too good fa dat," Jack said, sighing. He saw the hurt look in Specs' eyes, and his chest tightened.
"No… No, it can't be true," he said, shaking his head. He'd suspected Tara was being unfaithful, but he never confronted her, because he was too afraid he'd lose her. Fat lot of good that did, he thought to himself.
"I wouldn't a' said it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," he said, hailing a waiter. "Two sarsaparillas, please. Thanks."
"You must have seen wrong. She wouldn't… Couldn't… She did. She did! Oh God, she did. When I was sick, right? When I needed her the most. She said, she said she couldn't risk getting sick. That, that seeing me sick would hurt her, and, and I said ok. I let her walk all over me, Jack. I let her cheat on me, Jack. I let her," he said with tears in his eyes, which refused to let fall. He still loved her, despite the fact she took advantage of his good nature.
"Specs, yer bein' too hard on yourself. You didn't let her do nothin' she wasn't gonna do anyway. An' ya can't blame yaself fa bein' sick," Jack insisted.
Specs looked at him, and stubbornly replied, "I'll get her back. This letter, Jack, this letter'll do it for me. She always loved my poetry, and, and this is better than anything else, and, she'll love it, and me," he said wistfully.
"Specs, I'm tryin' ta help ya. Ya need ta get ova' her. I know a great goil ova in Brooklyn, she's just yoah type, I know it," said Jack hopefully, mentally forming a list of girls that Specs might go for.
"No. I'm going to win her back. I can. I will. I'm nearly done. Read it over, please, Jack, I'd really like your opinion," Specs said.
"I ain't much with woids, Specs, an' I dunno how much help I'd be," he answered reluctantly.
"Jack, you got a heart, just like anyone else. Please, be a friend, and just read it," Specs pleaded.
Jack nodded silently, took the notepad Specs was pushing towards him and read;
My love,
I feel incomplete without you in my life. We've had our differences, but I feel that having those problems bring us closer to each other. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew we were meant to be. I couldn't sleep last night. All I could do was think about how much my life has changed since I met you. You bring out the best in me, and I hope I do the same for you. These last few months have been the happiest of my life. Being with you helps me forget the impoverished conditions in which I live. With you, I can be myself, and I don't need to hide my emotions, or "improve the truth." When I'm with you, the truth is all I need. You are my inspiration, my muse. Without you, there is nothing for me to live for. I wake up, each morning, looking forward to seeing you, holding you, listening to you. Please, meet me at Pier 13 tomorrow in Brooklyn, if you have anything at all to say to me. I love you. I always have, and I always will.
Jack looked up slowly. Tara had really gotten under Specs' skin, like an infectious disease. His words were beautiful, but he strongly doubted that they would win Tara back. "Looks like all ya need ta do is sign it," he said quietly. He knew there would be no talking Specs out of this. "But what'll ya do if she don't show?" he asked.
"I have to take that chance. She's worth a whole day's wait on the Brooklyn docks. Anyway, I should go down there anyway, I've been meaning to visit Smoke," he said with optimism. "When you've got nothing else in the world, you've still got hope," he added, cracking a smile. He signed the letter with his untidy signature, and folded it neatly in half.
Jack half-heartedly smiled at him, and said, "Best a' luck to ya, but I got some business ta attend to in Queens. See ya back at da house." With that, he downed the rest of his sarsaparilla, which had arrived halfway through Specs' letter, and threw some change on the table to cover the bill. Specs sat, staring at the letter until Dizzy approached him.
"El. Elliot," she said shaking him, "we should get back to the House." She was very concerned about her brother. She'd never seen him like this. He'd always been very sensible and straight-laced, and to see him as a brooding, Poe-like figure was very unsettling.
"Yeah, yeah, Danielle, ok," he said, not looking up. He was very distracted, as the prospect of putting his heart on his sleeve was very unnerving. Shaking his head, as if it would rid him of his troubling thoughts, he stood up, tucked his notepad into his coat, and took Dizzy's hand. She pulled him through the near-empty restaurant and down the street to the Manhattan Lodging House they called home.