Chapter 17 – Josie Writes To Brandon
Saturday, July 5, 1969 – 5am.
Just before five that morning, with the second bottle of Schnapps down to fumes and Brody's best home-grown a hazy memory, Peggy stifles a yawn.
"Well, ladies, it's been fun, but this gal has to help Ma at the cafe later, so it's off to bed for me." She grins at Lacy, who's lying on her bed drifting in and out of sleep.
"No offense, sis."
Her sister waves a dismissive hand without opening her eyes.
"'S'okay."
Cross-legged on the bed next to her, with Lacy's paperback copy of The Godfather held in her lap, Josie gives Peggy an unblinking look.
"Peg, thank you for bein' here for me. You an' Lace – and your mom, too – made this shit with Brandon at least bearable for me."
Peggy comes over and hugs her hard.
"Girl, no thanks necessary, okay?" She winks. "You're like the little sister I never had."
Lacy gives her the finger, not even bothering to move her hand off her belly, and Josie and Peggy grin at each other.
After Peg is gone, Josie nudges Lacy's leg with her toe.
"Hey, Lace."
No reply, so Josie nudges her again, this time using her whole foot.
"C'mon, Wilson, wake up. I'm bored."
"Lea'me 'lone."
Josie dog-ears her page in The Godfather and sets it on the nightstand, wide awake and still so goddamned pissed at Brandon she could spit nails.
A letter, she thinks. I should write him a pretend letter and get all this shit off my chest.
Josie looks fondly at her best friend, who is now wearing just her cute cami top and matching black panties, and flicks a finger across her left nipple.
"Ow!"
"Serves you right. Now open your eyes an' tell me where you keep your writing paper and pens, or I'll do the other one."
A small smile curves Lacy's lips, and she squeezes her eyes shut tighter.
Dear Dipshit,
Yeah, you. You think just 'cause you're crippled now I'm gonna forget all the shit you put Ma through, or the shit you put me through over liking girls?
Fat chance.
And that ain't even countin' the time you slapped Lisa.
So sue me if I don't cry a river for your poor, dumb self. You coulda went to Canada like Stuart asked you to.
Like Ma fuckin' begged you to.
But no, you were too goddamn self-righteous for that, so there you are, with no knees an' no future, and you know what?
I don't care. You're my brother, an' I still don't fuckin' care.
How screwed is that?
Maybe someday I'll feel different – God, I hope so – but right now I hope that place you're in keeps you.
If not, I'll just learn to be civil, for Ma's sake.
Sorry for bein' so harsh.
Really.
'Til whenever,
Your almost-sister,
Josie
PS – I wasn't gonna mail this, but Lacy - who's lyin' here next to me half naked, by the way – says you need to read every word.
Lacy, still lying on her bed with Josie cross-legged next to her, watches the other girl affix a 6-cent stamp to the sealed envelope and set it next to the Mario Puzo paperback on her nightstand.
"Y'know," she says laconically, "the Post Office ain't gonna deliver that without an address on it."
"No shit, Miss Sherlock," Josie retorts. "Ma's got his info at home, he's at some Army hospital in San Francisco."
"Letterman?"
"Yeah, that's the one. How'd you know?"
"Grandpa told me about it one time, he said a lot of guys wounded in Korea got sent there." Lacy puts a hand on Josie's knee. "Joce, thanks for lettin' me read the letter."
"You're not mad?"
"'Bout what?"
"That I never confided in you about what a prick my brother is."
Lacy shrugs. "Always figured you'd tell me when you felt like it."
Josie's jaw drops. "You knew?"
"Not how bad it really was, but I had an idea."
"But how? Ma made Lisa an' me promise not to say shit to anyone about Bran's 'bad spells.'"
Lacy arches a brow. "Not even me?"
"Especially not you. She said, and I quote, 'I love that girl to death, but I don't want her murdering my only son.'"
"I still might," Lacy mutters, then takes a deep breath. "So what made Brandon slap Lisa?"
"'Cause he's an ass. He hated it when my parents adopted her out of foster care, an' he was mad 'cause she only bonded with me."
"She was five, right? An' you were seven. 'Course y'all bonded."
Josie nods, remembering. "Anyway, when Daddy died a year later, Brandon became mean, and took it out mostly on her." She sighs. "And Lisa learned to fight back, little as she was."
"Kinda like Peg an' me in those days."
"Exactly. But at least you an' her finally worked shit out."
"Hey, it was either that or kill each other someday." She gives Josie a nudge. "But you still ain't answered my damn question."
"Which was?"
"Why dickwad slapped Lisa that time you wrote about."
"Oh, yeah." Josie pushes back a lock of hair, which immediately falls back over her left eye. "It was her thirteenth birthday, an' to celebrate Ma gave her a tube of clear lip gloss. Brandon didn't know this, so when Lisa came into the kitchen with her lips all shiny he got pissed."
"What happened?"
"I wasn't there, an' Ma was at work, so it was just them. And my brother messed with the wrong little girl."