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I tried procuring a quill, ink, parchment, and even a candelabra to really set the scene for this magical moment, but alas, nothing in Mariner’s Cove offers such things. Except I did find a candelabra at Feather & Sage, along with incense and a number of crystals. I could have waited for an order to come in, but I am too impatient. If I can’t have your number, then I wanted to write back to you right away.

It’s good to hear from you…but bad to hear you still remember the nickname. Jakey Jake is just as silly as it was when we were fifteen. I think my ears are still ringing after how loudly you would squeal it, like I was a prince and you were pronouncing my entrance as I stepped into room 702 with my saxophone case and my Jansport. It’s been over a decade, can’t we think of something new?

I have many questions, but I’ll start with my long sad story, simply because you asked.

When Mom died, I think I lost all sense of purpose. After eating that frozen pizza, I knew I couldn’t return to college, which is rather disappointing when I look back on it all. I had one semester left. I should have finished. Don’t worry, I finished my final semester online last year, and BU gracefully gave me my degree. I feel like an imposter every time I hold it. Especially now that I’m doing nothing with engineering. I work in construction now. Mostly house renovations.

I didn’t finish my semester, but I did go back to my apartment in Boston. I lived off campus, and I used the savings I had to coast through. At first, I told myself it was a break, that I’d give myself time to grieve, then I would hop back into things the next semester. But six months wasn’t nearly enough time. Things went south fast, and I did it all in the name of “grief” and making myself feel better.

I let my depression drown me. When my lease was up, my roommate told me to move out. I was angry at him at the time, but looking back, he was absolutely right. So I came home, back to the house that was apparently mine now. The house that smelt like Mom, where she would host those big band dinners. Remember when we’d pitch tents in the backyard and camp out all weekend? Anyway, I was home alone, using drugs until I got sick and found myself in a hospital. Then I stopped, cold turkey. I haven’t touched anything in two years, but I haven’t really felt like myself until recently.

Being in the house isn’t helping though, and I knew I needed to find a new place. Which brings me to why I’ve been cleaning it out.

I guess the story isn’t as long as I made it out to be, but it’s a lot. They were my mistakes, and I have to live with them. My therapist says that grief manifests differently for everyone, and that I can’t hold it against myself that mine pulled me in that direction. But I do. I’m angry at myself for what I did, for how I handled the past six years. I wish I could take it all back and try again. I wish I’d actually spoken to you at the funeral.

So…Colchester Academy, huh? I do remember that band being full of complete assholes. Or I think we called them bandholes? I loved seeing their faces crumble at States when we beat them, and I am not ashamed to say how satisfying it is to know how downhill that band has gone since then. No offense.

Speaking of States, yes. My chest was painted. It was actually painted all day. It’s a senior tradition for the guys. Whoever wins the beer pong tournament the night before has the honor of being “stallioned.” You know, wearing the mascot on your chest with pride. So it was only me.

I’m happy to hear you’re still a blonde. I agree, I think it suits you.

Now…how did you end up at Colchester?

Do you miss California?

And who in the fuck did you make out with on the band bus?

Jake (not Jakey Jake)

january 3, 2025

JAKEY JAKE,

The nickname will never die. Nice try.

Not going to lie, I’m feeling heated that I was not invited to whatever beer pong tradition this is. How sexist! I would’ve loved to have been stallioned. Although, I guess I understand why that wouldn’t have worked. Couldn’t exactly flash my chest to a stadium of high schoolers without getting suspended. Especially after we had to get rid of the underwear run-through that year. I mean, how else were we supposed to celebrate one last practice run of the show before States except to strip down to our underwear? I guess, in your case, with beer pong.

I want to say I’m so sorry and write all of the things that I guess one is meant to offer in this sort of situation, but honestly? Jake, everything about what happened to you sucks. Big time sucks. Your therapist is right; you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself that your grief manifested the way it did. Yes, using is not the answer. But I also can see why all of this happened. I’m sad that you went through it alone. I’m angry that we as a society don’t have a solution for helping people struggling with mental illness of any kind…or with an addiction. It just…big time sucks.

Thank you for sharing your story though, for being brave with me. I know you feel guilty about the funeral, but don’t be. Seriously. I flew in to see you, but I also flew in for me. Your mom was there for me in more ways than you probably even realize. I came to pay my respects to a woman I deeply admired. All of us did.

Did you know your mom came to my rescue one night the summer before senior year? It was after band camp. Carmen and I held the annual flute sleepover, which also included the clarinets and the color guard, so I guess we couldn’t just say “the flutes.” But yeah, we had our sleepover. It was never a rowdy thing, just a bunch of girls squealing and singing songs until whoever’s poor mother was hosting us came barreling downstairs to tell us to shut up and go to bed. That year it was my house…and my parents weren’t around. They went out to dinner, trusting that we wouldn’t do anything stupid. But the freshmen decided to be stupid. While the majority of us were watching swoony Joe Jonas in Camp Rock and eating tubs of ice cream, a few of the freshman girls snuck into the basement and decided it would be a great idea to drink a lot of vodka. One of them got really sick, and naturally, I was a high schooler and dumb and unsure of what to do. If I called my parents, I would be grounded for eternity. If I called for medical help, I would possibly be suspended and lose my captain position…and be grounded for eternity. So my best solution was to call your mom. I remembered she told me she worked as a nurse at one of your potluck dinners, so she came to the house and took care of Emily. She did scold me and I cried, but then she gave me a hug and told me with such love that I was the leader and I needed to actually lead. That was the first time I understood that being a leader goes beyond what happens on the field. I respected her so much after that, and trusted her with my life.

Between running all of those fundraisers and altering our uniforms and chaperoning competitions, our band would not have succeeded without your mom. I still can’t believe she hosted the entire band for dinners at your house. How in the world did all 150 of us fit? I wish I had a Sharon for Colchester Academy. But there’s simply no one like her. She was a diamond in the rough. A white stallion.

Ah, Colchester Academy. Part of me wishes they were still bandholes, or something, but these kids don’t care enough even for that. How could they not care? Our numbers are getting smaller and smaller every year. We went from 125 kids when I started to 65. I hear Mariner’s is down to 80 now. It’s so sad.

My reasoning for leaving California is also a long story, but for my mental well-being, I’m going to keep it short. I met Cory my freshman year of college, and thought he was the one. I assumed after graduation that he was going to propose, because truthfully, all signs were leading in that direction. He had these big plans for a job after graduation, for getting married and having kids. But apparently, those plans were never meant to include me. It was a full Legally Blonde kind of moment. I went to dinner thinking I would leave with a ring. Instead, I left with a broken heart.

I saw that Colchester was looking for a new director a couple days after, and I applied. Moved back to Mass a few months later.

Phew, glad that’s over with.

Your turn. Do you have someone in your life?

Shelly

january 6, 2025