Saxe. I call her Sahara Sex because she must be hotter than those desert sands the way she gets you fired up. I know you promised Laura to give her up. Obviously, you can’t.
If you think I’m going to pitch a hissy fit on the page and tell you how rotten you are, I’m not. Whatever this woman has, you need. You’ve had affairs ever since your voice cracked but this one is different. I don’t know if you know that or if you think you’re just hanging around because the sex is terrific. I do know she’s not “suitable,” as Mother would say, and you wouldn’t want to bring her to the country club. You’ve been rebellious about everything else—why are you such a conformist about this? What I’m saying, dear brother, is that I think you’re in love with this one.
Love hasn’t been
high
on my agenda. In fact, it isn’t on my agenda at all. I’ve been a major fool, and how funny, because when someone falls in love, usually people say that person’s the fool, but I swear to you with my last breath, the fools are the ones who don’t try.
Telling you to leave Laura will probably come as a shock to you coming from me, if you’ll forgive me for using “come” too often. Your favorite word, animal! As wives go I think Laura is okay but I’m not married to her. She’s conventional, she’s suitable, she pleases Mother. Give her the house, the car, and enough money to live on until she can get some job skills. It wouldn’t hurt Laura to give up her weekly hair appointments, manicures, therapy sessions, aerobics classes, gardening club with our mother, tennis lessons, bridge club, and whatever else she does. Guess I shouldn’t forget the Heart Fund. No proper lady forgets her volunteer work. At least it’s a worthy cause but aren’t they all? A dose of the real world and the value of a dollar would do Laura a world of good.
Today I die. Tomorrow it could be you. Love is worth fighting for, Carter. Do it.
I never did. I’m gay. I don’t know if you knew. We never talked about it and I don’t think I’ve ever
given
any indications that I might favor what is now called an alternative lifestyle. Bullshit. I’m nobody’s alternative. Truthfully, I’m a failure as a lesbian but if I had had the guts I think I would have fallen for a woman. Don’t confuse this with just sex. Men always do that. Well, it doesn’t matter now. I blew it.
You’d rather be wrong by yourself than
right with
some-body else’s help. You’re a flaming asshole and a bullhead, buddy, but heed these words from the grave. And as for being a flaming asshole, hey, maybe it’s a family trait. Remember Uncle Ray and the time he got shitfaced at the lake and he drove his Volkswagen off the dock into the water! He swam out only to have Mother screaming what a worthless drunk he was. He bowed to her, got into her Volvo station wagon, and drove it off the dock! When I see Uncle Ray in the hereafter, if there
is
a hereafter, I’m going to tell him it’s been dull around here since he’s been gone. He’s the only one who’d stand up to Momma. I never stood up to her. I retreated and did whatever I wanted to do. Better
than
caving in to her but still—
If I could live, Carter, Yd
give
Momma a piece of my mind. No lie.
kay. That’s it. Think about love. Oh, yeah, I did love you, even when I didn’t. Know what I mean?
Sistergirl
Carter reread the letter to make sure he’d understood it. He thought a minute and then threw back his head and yelled, “Ye-haw!”
9
A NN HAVILAND OPENED THE DOOR TO HER PRETTY DOWNTOWN home. Built in 1892, with high ceilings and ornate fireplaces, the house was Ann’s pride and joy. Since housing in downtown Charlottesville was cheaper than out in Albermarle County, she could afford the place. The mail, shot through the slot, was scattered all over the floor. Ann kicked off her shoes by the door and bent down to pick it up. Hurt because Frazier sought solitude after her brush with death, she