|
I recognised the writing on the envelope. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I looked at it again; I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.
It was lying there innocently enough behind the front door, between the phone bill and a credit card offer.
I knew the writing well, shit, I’d sat next to it at school for seven years, then at college for three more.
I realised I was shaking. I caught my reflection in the hall mirror, and I was as white as a ghost. The irony didn’t escape me; after all, the letter was from a ghost.
Was it some sort of sick joke? Some of our friends had a very strange sense of humour, but I didn’t think any of them would pull a stunt like that.
John had died two weeks ago. We’d known it was coming; he’d had cancer, he’d seemed to be recovering, and then, six months ago, the dreaded news that it had come back. John had been full of life, laughing and joking until the last few days when the pain become too much, and the morphine took him somewhere else. At his funeral last week, the church had been packed with family and friends.
I made up my mind. I’d open it now. I could always phone in sick to work if I needed to. I couldn’t leave it until I got home, I’d worry about it all day.
I picked up the envelope and turned it over. Sure enough, there was John’s trademark smiley on the seal. My mind ran riot, going over the impossibility of the situation. I opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter. Some photos fell onto my lap – they could wait. I needed to see what the letter said.
Dear Jenny
I’ll be gone when you read this. I have asked the hospice to post it after my funeral. I know you’ll be feeling sad, but I want you to remember the happy times. Look at the photos. See the one of when we went skiing? Do you remember how we swung in the chairlift and the Swiss attendant shook his fist at us? I waved back, deliberately misunderstanding. There’s a picture from the school prom, I really fancied you in that blue dress – if only you’d known! We hired a limo, eight of us, do you remember? George was sick in it on the way home from the vodka he’d smuggled in, and his parents had to pay the valeting bill. The photo from my eighteenth birthday is one of my favourites, I’m wearing the T-shirt you gave me with Homer Simpson on it.
I’m sad to be going, too, Jenny. But remember the good times, be happy, and make the most of life. I love you Jenny, you are my best friend.
Take care of yourself, and be good.
Forever your friend,
John
The ink on the letter was smudged. I wiped my eyes and picked up the photos. John smiled at me; I was smiling in the photos, too. John always said he liked my smile. I took the letter and photos up to my bedroom and put them in my childhood treasure chest. I’d find a frame for them later.
This final act was so typical of John, he loved surprises and always tried to make people laugh.
I wondered if he had thought about the shock it would give me. I could imagine him, sitting on a cloud, laughing at the expression on my face.
|
