I do not own the Hunger Games.
July 1, 2016
Dear Thom,
We're writing letters to servicemen as part of a project for the United Daughters of the Confederacy. In other words (and to be blunt), Mama's making me write you. Well, not you specifically, but y'all. If it's in uniform, we're supposed to cheer it up. She'd kill me if she knew I just told you that! I sort of feel like I had to, though: we haven't spoken since high school. I'm sure the thought of getting a letter from me is as weird as getting a letter from a total stranger. Right? Well, maybe not a total stranger: I still recall how you got that scar on your eyebrow from that lunch tray in third grade. We're just not friends or anything. Maybe getting a letter from a total stranger isn't weird to you. It's totally weird to me. Even though I've been in the city for years now, sharing my deepest and darkest feelings with someone I don't know is just...odd.
Not that I have deep or dark feelings. No sir.
I suppose I should warn you that Peeta and Gale will be getting letters as part of this exercise as well. Frankly, I would have thought I would be writing letters to Peeta. We did grow up together, after all. I knowabout one or two of his scars because I was there for most of them. Heck, I actually gave him some of them. As soon as Madge Undersee (you remember her?) said she was going to write to Gale, Katniss jumped right on Peeta like a grenade. She might be a deputy sheriff around here now, but her scowl sure hasn't changed. I can't imagine what she's going to put down on paper because for sure they've got nothing in common. Can you imagine? He's as docile as a golden retriever and she's...she gets a little too much pleasure out of using a taser.
Well.
This has been awkward enough, don't you think? I'll just let you go and do whatever it is that the Army does in Iraq.
Sincerely,
Delly
July 3, 2016
Dear Thom,
My mama is the busiest-body in this podunk town, and that's a fact. She somehow found out about my grenade reference and said it's totally tasteless. So, I apologize. I did a little research online and discovered that servicemen like care packages. Batteries and socks were specifically called out. I don't know how large your feet are, so batteries it is! (Especially since I fully respect the need to have extra batteries on hand.) I've sent a variety of sizes.
Enjoy them with my sincere apologies.
Delly
7/20/2016
Delly,
First off, thank you for writing. Really. I'm sure you think I'm giving you a line, but there's a lot of downtime over here. We sit around, play cards, generally get rowdy. Letters from home (and Facebook) break up the boredom. And when things get really weird we aren't allowed on-line, so the old-fashioned, hand-written stuff is doubly appreciated.
Hey, our town may be podunk, but it's still my kind of podunk. All of them summer barbecues, pool parties, fishing by the creek...I bet it's all in full swing right now. Facebook doesn't do it justice.
Gale and Peeta did receive a letter each. I can personally tell you that Peeta blushed a color upon opening his that can only be described as "embarrassed lobster". And he's pretty red all the time since coming over here. Maybe you could tell Katniss to ship him some sunscreen? I think it's funny that you called him a golden retriever. Let me assure you that he's anything but docile. I'm just sayin' that the guy knows his way around a rifle. And a knife, come to think of it.
We didn't really talk much about what was in our letters. I wonder why that is? We've been pretty open with each other about online news. Not sure what makes putting pen to paper any different, except that these letters are all written by pretty girls.
They were both jealous that I've gotten two letters and a care package. Feel free to have your mama check all of your letters for screw ups, because I'm up for as many more boxes as you want to ship. And by-the way, I wear a size 13, thanks for asking. Cookies are good too. I like chocolate chip, but I'm not picky. Some could say I'm downright easy-to-please. ('Cept no raisins. I can't do 'em when they're cooked.)
Would you tell me what you've been up to since high school? Like I said earlier, it gets pretty boring here and I could use a good story. One I don't know yet by heart.
Thanks,
Thom
P.S. The guys and I just had a fight over what your name is short for. Hawthorne swears it's "Delilah", while Mellark remembers a teacher calling you "Dolores". Help us settle-up?
August 1, 2016
Dear Thom,
Seriously? Y'all are like a group of twelve-year-old boys, aren't you? Since I get nothing out of this deal, all I'll say is that both guesses are wrong. And I can't believe Peeta wouldn't know! Sugar-snap, we grew up in each other's pockets, so you'd think he'd know my Christian name. I should storm over to the bakery and tell his daddy about his bad manners, but I'm afraid of his mama finding out. It doesn't matter that Peeta's an Army Private First Class, she will kick his butt around the world and back!
As for care packages, I don't think I'll need to say a word to Katniss. How long do you think it will be before she writes something that puts her foot in her mouth so badly she has to ship Peeta a box? Although let's be honest - bless her heart - it will probably be something for luck like a rabbit's foot off a rabbit she shot herself. And Madge? It won't take her long to make Gale something once she catches a gander that there's a game afoot. I don't think MIT beat the competitive out of her. I know for a fact at least one letter was calligraphed. Personally, I think calligraphy should only be used for wedding invitations. What's Gale going to do with a calligraphed letter from a girl who used to buy strawberries from his mama's fruit stand?
Size 13, huh? Those are some big feet.
There's not much to tell about me. Elementary and high school you know. Although I clearly didn't make much of an impression, considering y'all don't even know my name. College after that. Got a nice job in the city. Pretty apartment with a crazy roommate that I've known since college. Then, some...things happened. When I needed a change, Mama said come home. And I think I've already proved that I can't disagree with Mama! So now I'm home, drinking sweet tea through a straw so my lip stain doesn't fade, and working at the family shoe store. Can't say the pay is what I'm used to, but the shoe-perks are way beyond what I recall from when I worked here in high school.
So, here I am.
I talked to Daddy tonight. He was in Desert Storm, you know? And he scared me to death about some of the things you might be seeing and doing. It really got me worried.
Y'all need to stay safe!
Delly
8/15/2016
Delly,
I am very proud of my big feet. Very. They're manly, if I do say so myself.
Katniss hasn't shipped Peeta a rabbit's foot yet, but that does sound like something she'd do. It also sounds like you're saying you can't shoot? Did the city take the country girl right out of you? Or maybe you townies don't learn to shoot like we do growing up on the wrong side of the Seam River. I suppose that could be the case. I don't remember shooting ever coming up as a topic in high school while we were all getting drunk around the Homecoming bonfire.
Your daddy sounds like a wise man. I'm not sure what all he saw in terms of action during his tour but it's certainly different than I thought it would be. And the sand...the sand is everywhere. It's not like the sand on a Caribbean beach (not that I've been). It's in your clothes and your pores until you can feel the weight of it, dragging you down until you feel like you can't barely walk. Heat, too. The kind of heat that can sear your memories away until you don't know who you are anymore, or where you come from. I haven't been here as long as some of the other guys,but home feels like a lifetime ago. That's why the letters are so nice. I can hold onto them, re-read them and remember. Now if I could only recall your name!
What I wouldn't give for some of that sweet tea. I can picture you sitting on your mama's porch. Are you on the white porch swing? Or maybe in a rocker? I imagine you with big hair, wearing a red dress that matches your lipstick. I bet the humidity is thick these days. Are there lots of thunderstorms? And 'squitos are probably circling 'round your head and shoulders. They wouldn't dare bite you, though. I bet you'd bite them right back.
I used to love holding a cold beer can on the back of my neck on a hot day. Cools a guy right off.
I really look forward to your letters, Delly. You're a lot more fun to talk to than Hawthorne and Mellark and you don't complain nearly as much. And I'm glad we're sticking to the pen-to-paper kind. It seems more...personal somehow, than talking online.
Thanks,
Thom
8/22/2016
Delly,
Katniss shipped a box. You were wrong: it wasn't a rabbit's foot. She included some leaves and an acorn or two. Maybe there were some rocks in there, too. Not sure. Mellark was pretty closed off about it- which ain't like him. He's shared every box of cookies his dad has sent! Gale's been moodier than a bear since that package showed up. I just don't get what all the bother is over some nuts.
Write soon. I'm especially wondering what I win since you blew your prediction about the box. Plus I could use some more funny stories right about now.
Thom
September 5, 2016
Thom,
Didn't your mama ever tell you that it's ungentlemanly to gloat over telling a lady she's wrong? I'm sure mine would be happy to give you a lecture if you're sorely missing one. She's certainly been up on the pulpit enough since I've been home and I know she would be happy to take a break from haranguing me to tell you how it is. Mayhap being around Gale has messed with your head? Peeta doesn't have a nasty bone in his body, so it must be Gale. Unless you weren't a gentleman to begin with. But you always seemed so nice: holding doors for teachers and smiling with those dimples. And that one time that you rescued Madge's violin when Cato tried to sink it in the creek. Are you telling me that was a front and you're actually a disreputable rogue?
It's rare to hear a guy say that nuts don't matter. If anything, I'm used to guys thinking they're all that matter. Leaves and berries, huh? Weird. I wonder if they had some special meaning? I wouldn't think Katniss and Peeta had inside jokes, but who can tell? And excuse me, but Gale has an expression besides a scowl? I mean don't get me wrong: it looks super-hot on him. (Do not tell him I said that!) But still, he's got one nerve and someone's always on it. I'd think you would be used to that by now.
As for shooting: I can too shoot. I may not be hitting squirrels or bunnies in the eye like our assistant deputy, but I can hold my own against varmints or intruders. Daddy made sure of it. Don't think those dimples – or those size 13 feet - would save you if you sneaked in my window.
My big hair brings me closer to God. I don't think I even need to tell you who drilled that into me from an early age. Hint: she's the same woman ready to give you a lecture about being a gentleman who doesn't gloat about package predictions. She does make amazing sweet tea, though. And the best pecan pie and blueberry buckle in five counties. I know there was chit-chat behind my back in high school about how I maintained my ample figure. Mama's cooking. That right there is the key to curves like a backroad.
Let's see...funny stories. Funny… I know! First time I ever walked in on my roommate having sex. I had been in college a couple of months and got home after class one day. There was a sock on the door. I had no idea what that meant - I think I may have assumed she needed to do laundry. So, I walked on into our dorm room carefree as bird. And not only were they going at it like bunnies, they were in the middle of the floor! Two respectable beds mere feet away, and they're risking rug-burn.
Now my roommate didn't miss a beat. But the poor guy just completely froze up. And then my roommate started pounding on his butt, trying to get him to move. It was so much like that one time when Mr. Bruno tried to teach us how to line dance in P.E. Remember that? He clapped out a rhythm, trying to get us to feel a beat. Anyway, Johanna's slapping him until his butt is as red as his face. Finally, he just pulls out, grabs his clothes, and mumbles something on the way out the door.
Cool as a cucumber, Johanna sits up. She sits with her legs criss-cross-applesauce (yes, it's as bad an image as it sounds) and calmly asks me how class was.
We worked out a system after that. And I saw that poor guy a few more times. I guess the experience couldn't have been too traumatizing if he kept coming back for more.
Did that make you laugh? It's the funniest story I've got that doesn't involve snooty art patrons. I hope it did the trick.
You take care now.
Delly.
9/20/2016
Dear Delly,
I think I can use that sort of intro now, since you've overshared about your past. Holy cow, I could not stop laughing at your roommate story! That is classic. She sounds like a grade-A piece of work! How did you two stay roommates? I can imagine you asking for a transfer, or maybe you rushed a sorority or something? I can see that in you. A nice house with a bunch of good girls for most of college. That sounds like the Delly I know who ran for student body vice president with Mellark as her president. If you ask me (and clearly you didn't), you should have been the president. Mellark ran out of ideas after that dance he planned and the art installation that looks like a tombstone he put in the front of the school that was a gift from our graduating class.
What's going on around town? I get newspaper clippings from my family, but I bet you have some amazing dirt that's been happening behind-the-scenes. You certainly have a way with a story.
That pecan pie sounds delicious! I'm sorry if that's too obvious a hint, but it's my favorite. And Mellark's is only okay. (Plus, his dad won't ship it. It made a total mess in the box the last time he tried and we ended up throwing it out. I cried actual man-tears.) I haven't had pecan pie in at least a year and a half.
Snooty art patrons? What about them?
I think I like being known as a rogue. It's a lot better than some of the names we get called here.
Write soon.
Thom
September 30, 2016
Dear Thom,
You can beg and cry all you want - I am not shipping Mama's pecan pie. One, it would never survive the trip. Two, I am not rewarding you for being disloyal to Peeta and the bakery.
I did end up rushing a sorority and I love my sisters like...well...sisters.
Johanna and I are still friends. Actually, she's my roommate in the city. I guess once you live with someone, you learn their habits. It makes it easier to get along. Her nightly activities don't bother me (much) anymore.
You remember Peeta's dance? You know where that idea came from, right? Peeta wanted so badly to ask Katniss out when we were in high school. He just couldn't come up with a way to do it. Too scared. So, one afternoon, we brainstormed the idea of a dance so he could meet her there and ask her for at least a single dance. He did it, too. She turned him down. I'm pretty sure that was the dance where Gale broke up with Leevy and all the girls ended up in the bathroom writing nasty things about him on the stall doors. He does know we did that, right? Feel free to pass it along if he wasn't aware.
As for snooty art patrons, I try not to speak ill of the people who pay my bills. Not that they are right now. Maybe someday. If I go back. When. When I go back.
Did I tell you Ms. Trinkett came by the store this past weekend? She still uses an artist's knife to put on her makeup. What's hilarious is that her hair is a shade of aqua blue that's in-style right now. And, if I recall correctly, is against the high school rules. Can you imagine kicking your students out of class for having the same color hair you have? She said she's done it, too. She seemed offended when she talked about a few families writing complaint letters to the superintendent about it. Between you and me, I always assumed Superintendent Abernathy was a little sweet on Ms. T. I doubt he'd do anything as harsh as reprimanding her. Either that, or maybe she has a copy of a sex tape on him or something.
I'll leave you with that image burning in your mind. Ms. Trinkett and Mr. Abernathy. Together.
Sincerely,
Delly
10/15/2016
Dear Delly,
Now that is an image I could have done without. I damn near needed brain bleach! Funny you mention it, though. I never told a soul, but I happened upon her leaving a storage closet once. I was just putting my books in my locker after chess team practice and I thought it was a little odd, considering that doing any sort of activity beyond turning the page of a book would have broken one of her nails. And she seemed in a bit of a hurry. I slammed my locker a few minutes later, and who comes out of that same closet? Mr. Abernathy. He was totally rumpled and had lipstick on his collar. He snorted and lifted his chin in greeting when he saw me, and that was that. I try not to think about it much. I'm not sure I can handle my childhood being warped that way.
I told Gale about the bathroom graffiti, and he was impressed with your ingenuity and commitment. He also mentioned that it explained a lot about why he couldn't get a date to Homecoming senior year.
Speaking of dating...a guy can't help but notice that you haven't mentioned anyone special. I'd imagine it's a little hard to date while you're living at home again. Remember that I have to live vicariously through you, and that the most romantic thing in my life right now is Gale's scowl. Take pity on me and tell me something exciting to get me through these long and lonely nights. (Is that rogue-ish enough?)
Thom
P.S. My favorite candy bar since joining the Army is Payday. It doesn't have chocolate so it won't melt if you send some over.
October 26, 2016
Dear Thom,
We had a yellow Lab when I was a kid. Her name was Lucy. And she was big and blonde and...robust like the rest of us. Her vet called her "highly food motivated". Now, I'm not sayin' that you're as bad as Lucy when it comes to food. Nope. Not me. No sir. But you sure seem to love you candy bars and cookies and pies. Perhaps I'll take pity and send you something real soon.
I don't think either of us needs to worry about me dating. Mama says I came home because of a broken heart. Something's broken, that's for sure. I'm empty. It's like there's nothing inside at all: no pain, no joy...nothing. I'm going through life in a fog. Does that sound stupid? I know I shouldn't be grousing when you're over there going through God-knows-what. It feels ungrateful when you're sacrificing so much. Still, the only time the fog lifts a little is when I'm spending time with Randy (my little brother – do you remember him at all?) or writing you.
I guess I should probably put myself out there, but I just don't have the energy. I've told her that I've sworn off men for now. She threatened to make me an online dating profile. How does my mama even know what that is? I have no idea. She's setting me up with John Hurtz. He's an orthodontist. Named Hurtz. Do you see what my life has become? I'm totally stressed about this date because Mama is not joking around when she says she's going to make me stop moping around the house in my cat pajamas. Also, she's friends with his father. So, I'm flossing three times daily now so he can't criticize my dental hygiene and wondering if I can come down with some sort of flu so I can cancel gracefully.
To make matters worse, we're going to the Fair. THE FAIR. Can't wear a sundress because I don't want to flash anyone if we go on any rides. And exactly how I am supposed to eat Fair food without spilling all over myself? Onion rings, turkey legs, and funnel cakes are not graceful foods. I'll have to smile graciously while I pretend to love that we're sharing my funnel cake just so he doesn't tell all his friends that I'm still "Porky Cartwright". No doubt he'll try to cop a feel or a kiss on the Ferris wheel like a seventeen-year-old.
What's a girl to do, Thom? Do I cancel on the good doctor? What if he's my soulmate and I miss out because I don't want to share my funnel cake? I'm not even sure I believe in such things as soulmates, anymore.
A girl could go crazy worrying about this stuff.
And now I feel so guilty for unloading my problems on you that I'm going to have to send you a care package for sure.
Delly
11/1/2016
Dear Delly,
Wow. You've got a lot going on, girl, haven'tcha? Don't you fret. If the doctor is your soulmate, then everything will work out. And I'm not just saying that to blow you off or nothin'. You remember Lavinia Spencer, right? I can remember the first night we held hands, even now. It was April. I recall that because the Lily of the Valley was in bloom and the air was heavy with the scent of it. I don't even know if she wore perfume because of that damn flower. We were walking along the creek path behind the 'Village. She was wearing some sort of shoe that looked way prettier than it was practical, and she slipped a little on one of those moss-covered rocks. Being a gentleman (even though you don't think so), I helped her recover. She held onto my hand for the rest of the day.
We went to the Fair that next Autumn and we might have even shared a funnel cake. I didn't care that she spilled some of the chocolate on her blouse because all I saw was her smile. I won't tell you if we kissed on the top of the Ferris wheel or not. But I will say that holding a girl's hand - or more - on the top of the Ferris wheel is my best memory to date. I can still remember my heart pounding clear out of my chest, and the clear, crisp night air that smelled of apples and fried food. I swear I saw every single star in the sky that night. The whole world was ripe with possibilities.
Nothing compares to the feeling of being in love. Nothin'. So, you go out with Dr. Hurtz and you enjoy every moment of shooting ducks or dart toss, funnel cake or turkey leg. And don't worry over what you're wearing! I'm sure he'll think you're gorgeous no matter what. Just imagine, Delly, someday you'll look back and think, "That was the start of something amazing." You'll smell pumpkin spice bread or caramel apples and remember the very moment he saw you for the first time. And I mean really saw you.
But you won't even have a chance if you don't go!
Besides, if you won't go for you, go for all the guys over here. You know how many of us would give anything for an hour with our sweethearts?
I read on Facebook that Katniss shot someone. What happened? Is she okay?
Thom
11/10/2016
Dear Delly,
Thank you for the care package! That was enough candy for me to share generously. All the guys here say thank you. We had to cluster around Facebook so I could show them pictures of you. Those beach bikini pictures from your Puerto Rico trip a couple of years ago were as much a hit as the candy! And before you go thinking we're all pervy, we needed a real pick-me-up. Our missions lately have been...harder. I can't explain it. We're all a lot tenser. I'd like to say it's for no good reason, but Gale's gut is the strongest danger-gauge I know of and he's been on high-alert since before Halloween. I'm sure you don't want to hear that he's spooked. Thing is, Del, we're worried. I'm worried.
I want to come home. I miss it. I remember the first time Hawthorne and I hopped the fence over by where the Seam River bisects the quarry and leapt feet first into the water. Freezing cold, every time, but we did it every single summer. When we got a little older, we'd drink smuggled beer near there, and, eventually, we'd park with our girls on the dead-end that led to that same quarry. We used to complain there was nothin' to do every weekend. That we were bored. We couldn't wait to get out. Why? Sure, the streetlights turned to blinking at 9 pm. So what?
Talking about the Fair really got me thinking about why I was in such a hurry to leave in the first place. I think I wanted to make my mark so badly, I never thought about what I'd be leaving behind. I'm sure you'd say something positive about how we take our experiences with us. That they're a part of me. And they are. But that life: that town and its lazy rhythm; with its bored kids, its small-town politics, and nosy neighbors is special. I should have known what was right in front of me. I could have made a difference there instead of being stuck where things barely make sense. We passed a woman on the side of the road weeping the other day. Weeping. No idea what for. I wished I could stop and just put my arms 'round her. Maybe tell her it would be okay. You know what my C.O. would say? He would laugh at that and tell me that she might be hiding an explosive. That it's a lure. The sick, sad thing about it is that he might be right.
I barely feel human sometimes. Peeta talks about how he's losing the ability to tell real from not real. How can you pass someone on the road and remain unaffected when she looks like her world ended but who might be a threat?
How's Katniss? I imagine she's a hot mess. I think I even heard she got suspended. Gale's brushed it off because she's strong, but I know that shooting someone can really mess with your head. It's bad enough when it happens over here. If you see her at all, give her my best.
Thom
P.S. How did it work out with the good doctor?
November 20, 2016
Dear Thom,
So much has happened lately that I can barely catch my breath. And it's not even Thanksgiving!
I'm sure you've read the news reports of what happened with Katniss. So far what we know is that she allegedly shot someone named Corny Snow while awaiting backup during an apparent hostage situation at Apu's Kwik-E-Mart. Apu's fine, which means high school kids everywhere will continue to get overpriced beer with no questions asked. Snow, though…he died on the way to the hospital from a wound to the neck. Everyone's calling it a lucky shot, but it's weird. Katniss has better aim than that. If she had wanted him dead, it would have been a clean shot to the head. You know?
She's suspended during the investigation. There's been a hullabaloo about it in town because some say she should have been fired. Daddy says that it's normal for a suspension when there's a weapon discharge involved. I believe him, but it's still awful. It's a suspension without pay, so the rest of us are trying to figure out a way to pay for her mama's care. You know she's in a home, right? Katniss pays for that, and for Prim's nursing school. It's just a terrible thing all around.
Worse, she won't talk to anyone. She's holed up in that lake cabin her daddy built and won't come out for anything. I heard even Posey Hawthorne couldn't get inside. And Katniss likes her. Madge and I are going by again later this week to try to ply her with some sweets and maybe a casserole or two. It's not right for her to be up there all by herself. She's got to be hurting.
As for the Fair…I went with your pretty words in my head, hoping for a nice night. And it was…alright. I didn't feel anything. No spark. I don't think he did, either. I knew that it wasn't going anywhere when he received an emergency message from his service right after funnel cakes. (I splurged for one of my own and I have a feeling that was the final sign that we weren't destined for each other.)
So, he left, and I rode the Ferris wheel by myself. Here's the weird part… when I was stopped at the top looking out over the town, and the Seam, and playing "I Spy" for landmarks, I heard you talking about possibilities. Imagined you sitting next to me, star gazing. I saw the stars blinking above me, and I felt a shift, like a moment of sadness or grief of something, following by...lightness. I can't explain it, other than that. I still feel empty, but I'm better. Like something could happen. Like I could be open to it. Like I have a future despite the things that happened. I listened to a love song playlist on the way home and even sang along. So, thank you.
Don't gloat or anything okay? But I owe you for giving me some hope. Be on the lookout for a care package with your name on it.
I'll keep you informed about Katniss. Send prayers her way, okay?
11/28/2016
Dear Delly,
Ma messaged me to let me know you stopped by the house with a pecan pie for Thanksgiving. You know you didn't need to do that, right? She said you didn't stay for dinner or anything. It's probably better that way, what with my dad already passed out drunk in front of the TV. She described how good that pie was, though, and I'm a little jealous. Truth is, that pie could have been total crap. Just having someone come visitin' made her day. Dad's been keeping to himself since I left and that makes it hard on her because Ma loves to chit chat and get involved. But since he needs a little extra attention, it's been a heavy burden on her. I try not to fight with her about it when we Skype even though I can see the strain on her face.
I hope you'll accept my thank you - consider us even for your Ferris wheel epiphany. I'd consider it a personal favor if you could check in on her from time to time, especially between now and the end of the year. Christmas is hard enough, you know? And if my dad is being a butt-head and not really getting in the spirit, I don't want her getting depressed or anything.
Y'all getting ready for Christmas yet? Or is it too early in the Cartwright house? Ma and I used to put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Thing used to be drier than tinder by Christmas, but Ma loves the smell. Says it's just not Christmastime without a tree decorated with homemade ornaments. She would bake up a storm even though it was just the three of us. And let me tell you that my ma ain't no baker, that's for sure! I could use the smell of sugar cookies right about now. Even the burned ones. I'd rather smell that than Hawthorne's sweat.
In case you're wondering, my favorite Christmas cookies are the peanut butter cookies with the Hershey's kisses on top. Just sayin'.
I'm sending thoughts to Katniss. I imagine she's having a pretty rough time of it. I send my paycheck home, mostly, but here's a few dollars. Put that in the kitty to help cover Mrs. Everdeen's care. I'd like to think someone would do that for my family if something happened to me.
Thanks again,
Thom
December 15, 2017
Dear Thom,
Your mama is adorable and the visit was no trouble. We've already been to the annual holiday craft fair at church and have plans for the fundraiser for foster kids that the Quilt Guild puts on every year. Spending time with her is my pleasure!
Speaking of which, we ran into Lavinia Spencer while we were out and about. Things got pretty chilly when your mama spotted her. I'm not prying or anything, but I don't suppose you would want to explain that to me? From the way you had talked, I thought she might be waiting on you or something. You seemed so fond of her. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want, but I was completely taken aback by your mama's behavior.
Why does it surprise me that you included your favorite Christmas cookie? You are shameless. Your mom showed me some pictures of you on deployment. Where are you putting all of these treats? And as if the Mellark's aren't already working on a care package for your entire platoon! You'll be lucky to get socks and batteries from me, although I imagine you and Peeta and Gale could use an Elf on a Shelf to keep y'all in line.
You asked about Cartwright traditions: Elf on a Shelf is one of them. As if I need extra pressure to "behave" for Mama. She puts him all over the house for Randy and me, even though we're both really too old to believe in Santa. Last year, he and I played a joke on her and moved her carefully set up Elf to greet her when she pulled her creamer out of the refrigerator. She got us back by making decoy Christmas cookies with no sugar in them. Yuck!
We set up a real tree. It takes Mama days to decorate it with her pink and silver and white ornaments. Randy and I do the lights. She likes the white twinkle ones, but Randy and I always do a strand of the colored that stay lit all the time. She swears it looks like a disco ball. We all bake (and eat) cookies. My favorites, for the record, are the soft molasses ones with the sanding sugar on top. Peeta made me two dozen when we were twelve and I ate all of them in one sitting with an enormous glass of milk. You know when you shouldn't, but you just can't stop yourself? I was so sick!
Anyhow, Daddy sets up Grandpa's train set under the tree. We turn it on Christmas Eve when we open our one "Santa" gift - usually new pajamas. We also run it Christmas day when we open gifts. Daddy says that train runs from heaven to Earth on Christmas, and it carries all our beloved family to us on that special day. Frankly, that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard Daddy say.
I'll post pictures of the Cartwright tree on Facebook if you really decide to take a look.
There's talk that Katniss' psych evaluation didn't go well and that she may not be reinstated. It's a mess over here, Thom.
You take care,
Delly
12/25/2016
Dear Delly,
Merry Christmas.
I was feeling a little homesick this morning, so I checked your Facebook page. I love that your Elf was riding the toy train and, somehow, I don't think that was your mama's doing. Whose idea was it, yours? Randy's? One of you sure is a bad influence!
I wore my fuzzy reindeer socks (thank you) while I scrolled through pictures and ate a cookie (also thank you). It almost made me feel like I was there with you.
Almost.
I wish I were. I wish I that train stopped over here so I could hop on. I bet your Christmas morning smells like pine needles and cinnamon, orange juice and gingerbread.
Lavinia's not waiting on me, Del. I'm not sure what made you think that. Truth is that we broke it off mutually when I joined up. I don't begrudge her wanting to have a life. She's a nice girl and she deserves it. I'm sure Ma is all in a tizzy because Lavinia made a comment or two about how I'd end up married to the military. Ma's protective and doesn't want me gone forever. I don't think she needs to worry about that, do you? Just based on the fact that I'm sitting here crying as I eat cookies while staring at a computer screen looking at your family should answer that question.
Some of the guys here have families at home. Kids and dogs and cats and wives. And they don't get to go home for Christmas. I know I have nothing on them, so I keep my mouth shut but it doesn't change how I feel inside. How much I miss home.
Please don't tell Ma, though. I don't want to worry her. She used to tell me that Christmas was a special season about wishes and new beginnings. I'm not sure if I believe that - maybe I never did - but I'm sending all my wishes to you, except one. Spend them however you want because it's not like I get to do anything with them. Consider it a care package in return for all you've done for me. There's sure as hell nothing else you'd want from over here.
My one wish is this: I wish you would tell me more about your troubles. What happened? I'd like to be someone you can lean on.
Thom
P.S. I lied. I want to keep two wishes. I wish I could do something for Katniss. Maybe petition the Mayor for a new psych evaluation after she's received some help or counseling? Maybe a probationary period? There's got to be something that can be done.
January 11, 2017
Dear Thom,
You sent me your wishes? That's the sweetest thing. I never imagined you'd have such a pretty way with words! My wish is simple really. Every night, I pray for your safety. You're the last thing I think of before I go to bed. So, don't go doing anything heroic, okay? I know that Gale might convince you to follow his brand of stupid, but I want you safe. Then you can come home and tell me if my hair is too big, or my lip stain doesn't match my dress. We can watch the stars together and you can point out all the possibilities from the top of the Ferris wheel.
Katniss sure you could use your help as well. I'll try some of your suggestions and I guess we'll see where we get. She's not helping matters by staying in that cabin by herself. I'll have to get her to see a counselor with regularity. I don't think she's been keeping her appointments. Maybe that's part of the problem with her evaluation?
I wish I knew a little more about this stuff, but I am so bad at it. Mostly, I just run from my problems by eating as much pie as possible. Pie makes everything better. I swear the goings-on here make my problems seem like a hangnail in comparison. Like I'm making a big deal out of forgetting my earrings for church, y'know? I'm not up to sharing just yet. But know that, if I could, I would be happy to share them with you.
Yours,
Delly
January 20, 2017
Dear Thom,
I haven't heard from you in a while. Everything alright? I hope I didn't offend you with my last letter. I do think you're someone I can confide in. Honestly, you've become my best friend. I think and pray for you every day. Have I told you that? Please write soon, at least to tell me you're okay.
My trouble is over a man, of course. I fell in love with the wrong one. And not only was he a liar and a cheat, he was also my boss. So, I've been sitting here for months trying to figure out if I should eat crow and head back to the job, or if I should just pretend like it never happened and live in the bubble that my mama has built. So many choices, you know? And yet, hiding out doesn't seem like something someone with integrity would do. I'm already so confused about this. I think I'm a good person. How did I not see what was happening? It didn't just happen to me, Thom. I was there. I was a participant. How could that be?
At any rate, I hope that explains a bit and gets us on track. Maybe now you can see why I didn't want to open the door and unload. It's a lot of baggage.
Yours,
Delly
January 27, 2017
Thom,
Stop messing around, mister. Your mama hasn't heard from you and we're all scared. If you don't want to talk to me, I get it. But don't leave everyone frightened like this. We just want to know that you're ok.
Delly
February 5, 2017 (not sent)
Please be safe. If something happened to you, I don't know what I would do. Come home, Thom. Come home. I need you.
Special thanks to those who read this in 2016/2017 and provided feedback. It's been a long time.