Some things in life can’t be explained. The absence of an explanation can plague us forever.

 

The light may never shine bright, but the answer may be found in a letter, signed . . .

 

 

Cordially Yours

 

My Dear Friend,

    

     I’ve been thinking about you a lot this past week. What you may have done is hard to believe. It has affected my outlook on life and made me wonder who you really are.

     We’ve known each other a long time, ever since we were kids. We shared our dreams and nightmares. We encouraged each other to be strong. And we never let each other down. It was because of you I became a man—honest and sincere—a person to be trusted.

     I’m shaken up by your behavior and don’t know how to handle it. Maybe you can shed some light on your actions, so I can move on. I look forward to hearing from you.

 

Cordially yours,

Alexander

 

     I put my pen down and stared at the letter. Should I send it? I thought. When I heard the news on TV about Marcus being on trial for murder, it shook me up. I needed to know more.

     I hadn’t heard from him in over three years, and I didn’t know why. Would he care how I felt? Why would he respond now, after so many years?

     Last year, on his birthday, I tried to contact him—three times. I left messages on his phone, but he didn’t return my calls. However, I still care about him. Is it too late to bridge this gap between us? I need answers.

     I looked out my den window. Dark clouds covered the sky. And then . . .

     “Hello, Alexander.”

     “Marcus, is that you?”

     “Who else would it be? I’m your soul mate for life.”

     “But you’re not here, are you? And the phone didn’t ring. How are we talking?”

     “That’s not important. We have a lot to discuss.”

     “About what? And why now? We haven’t spoken in a long time. And you’ve avoided my calls.”

     “Well, now we can talk.” He chuckled, in a weird way that made me shake.

     Still uncertain about him being here, I inspected the den and saw nothing—no Marcus. This was eerie. I bit my lip, trying to control my trembling body. This was my mind playing tricks on me, I thought.

     “Well, are you ready to get down to business?” the voice queried.

     “Business? This is getting out of hand. Did you bug my house?”

     “Even if I knew what you’re talking about, I wouldn’t do it.”

     “Then come out from where you’re hiding.”

     “Hiding? I’m not hiding. I’m in plain sight. Just focus.”

     This was getting worse by the moment. “Why don’t you just leave? I’ve had enough of your craziness. If you don’t stop, I’m going to call the police.”

     His laughing was out of control. But then he became silent. . . . And he asked, “Tell them what? That you’re nuts and you’re hearing voices coming from an invisible being. Go for it, my friend. Maybe I’ll visit you in the loony bin.”

     I didn’t respond to his ridiculous remarks. I had no idea why he came here or what he wanted to discuss, but I had to get my concern out in the open. I blurted, “Why did you do it, Marcus?”

     “Do what?”

     “Don’t play games with me. You know what I’m talking about—the news story on TV the other night.”

     “Oh, the fake news. You’ve got to be kidding. That’s why you tried to contact me. I thought it was because you missed me. I’m outa here.”

     A strong breeze ruffled my hair, but all the windows were closed. And then I felt alone.

     Maybe the crazy house was where I belonged. “I’ve got to put this behind me,” I moaned. I must’ve dozed off. I’ve had weird dreams before. Marcus was part of my past and I needed to forget him.

     I put the letter in the bottom desk drawer—my communication cemetery—filled with notes I’d written to companies complaining about services I’d paid for, but weren’t done right, but then didn’t send. Now it was time to return to reality.

     Days passed and my life got back on track—moving slowly and going nowhere. My desk job was boring, but I had few alternatives, since I’d dropped out of college after my sophomore year at Ryder Institute. Ironically, it was the same year Marcus decided education wasn’t for him. He enlisted in the Navy. However, we remained joined at the hip and communicated frequently.

     But now, that’d stopped. And since I’d never sent the letter to Marcus and dismissed the “discussion” I’d had with him as a dream or pure nonsense, our relationship was over.

     Two years went by. I sat on the couch in my living room watching the news on TV. As the station went to commercial, the news anchor said, “When we return, I will share with you the latest news on Marcus . . .”

     The TV cut out, the lights flickered, and I was left sitting in the dark. And then . . .

     “Hello, Alexander.”

     “Oh, no. Not this again,” I muttered.

     “Life has been lonely without you.”

     “But you left that night, with no explanation.”

     “So you finally realized I was here, Alexander.”

     “Not exactly, but I have no other answer for what happened.”

     “Well, lets have a more productive conversation this evening.”

     “About what?”

     “Maybe about what I did.”

     “Okay. So what did you do, Marcus?”

     “Before I get to that, Alexander, let’s talk a bit about you. How are you doing?”

     “Just existing.”

     “What, in heaven’s name does that mean?”

     “Living life with no real purpose, I guess.”

     “Did you ever have a purpose, other than making my life a living hell?”

     “What are you talking about? I was you’re best friend.”

     “That’s the key word—‘was.’”

     “Still am, if you want me to be.”

     “It’s too late.”

     “But why?”

     “I’m serving a life sentence.”

     “You’re in prison?”

     “Yes.”

     “For what?”

     “It’s all in the letter I was going to send you.”

     “But I was the one who was going to send the letter.”

     “That wasn’t possible.”

     “It wasn’t?”

     “No.”

     “I don’t understand.”

     “You will, when you read the letter.”

 

My Dear Friend,

    

     I’ve been thinking about you a lot this past week. What you did was hard to believe. It affected my outlook on life and made me wonder who you really are.

     We’ve known each other a long time, ever since we were kids. We shared our dreams and nightmares. We encouraged each other to be strong. And we never let each other down. It was because of you, I became a man—honest and sincere—a person to be trusted.

     However, I was shaken up by your behavior and didn’t know how to handle it. I wanted you to shed some light on your actions, so I could move on. But the pain you caused me was intolerable. You stole my wife and took my life from me. There was only one way to deal with this—to take yours. I wish you well in Hell, my friend.

 

Cordially yours,

Marcus

 

 

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