Michael's Letters, To and From

June 3rd, 2011

Dear Mom,

How are you doing? I hope you're making a speedy recovery- how is the facility treating you? Sorry, I know I shouldn't ask so many questions, (Please don't get mad at me.) but I haven't talked to you in weeks and I really hope you're okay.

So, I don't know if Dr. Ivanova or Great Lakes Rehabilitation staff have told you yet, but I got accepted to St. Christina's (You know, that application Dr. Ivanova said I should fill out? The one you helped me answer the personal interview questions on?) and I'm there now. It's on an island- the scenery is nice, but even so, I'm having a hard time adjusting.

I met some friends though! I was really surprised- I didn't think anyone would be able to stand me, but they're all really nice.

I met this guy Andry (pronounced Ah-ndry, not Anne-dry) my first few minutes arriving and he helped me calm down when I was freaking out that there wasn't anyone in the room I was assigned. (I'm in Ward A, which is supposed to be the 'danger ward'- it's weird, but I guess I'll have to get used to it.) I'm going to pray for him every night because he doesn't think he can get better. I think he can though!

Then, a few hours later while I was organizing a bookshelf, I met Talon- he's the brother I always asked for, remember? And you were like, "Michael, you can't just wish for a brother. It doesn't work like that." Well I found him- and we kind of depend on each other, and we love each other like siblings. And he thinks I'm a good, worthwhile person. I don't believe that right now, but I'm going to try my best to view myself the way Talon views me, because I see the good in Talon too.

And then, when it was close to nighttime, I met Nate and Connor. They're both my roommates- Nate's easier to talk to than Connor, but I'm sure Connor's nice too. I'll have to get to know him better.

I can't say I like this place, because I'm really homesick, but meeting new friends made it a lot easier. I'd be miserable if I didn't find people to bond with.

I miss you so much. Write back soon!

Love,

Michael

June 10th, 2011

Mike,

Hey dude! Hope you didn't drop the soap yet. Haha... bad joke, I know... and you probably won't get it anyway.

So how's lock-up treating you? Okay, I really need to work on this no-sensitivity thing like you said... being stuck in an institution sucks, as we both know. And I'm probably not making it any better.

BUT I HAVE AWESOME NEWS! I'm officially a foster kid! Remember Mr. and Mrs. Zahakos? The Greek couple who were kinda-sorta-thinking about me when they were looking for kids to adopt? Well... it's on it's way to being official- I'm staying at their house now. It's so big! I've never been inside of a house with four bedrooms before. If they decide to adopt me, I'll be their third child, but their oldest- which is a change, considering I'm the youngest of my real family. The Zahakos's already adopted Katherine and Eleanor (Twin 18-month-old girls from China- isn't it cool that they kept them together?) They're super cute! You'd love them- you're better with kids than I am.

So, that's all that's really been going on with me. I'm really worried about you, kid. (No homo.) Luckily Teagan knew your address from your old files. She told me to say hi for her. You should write to her too- she misses you as much as I do. (No homo.)

Write me back and tell me how it is at St. Kristin's... or whatever your new facility is called. Sorry- I forgot already. You should know me by now- I have the memory span of a goldfish. Are you still mega-nervous about meeting new people like you were with me? Have you met at least one person? What are the rules like at your new place?

Oh, and don't forget your towel when you take a shower! I will never forget it- every single morning, dude! I'd be sitting in the room, minding my own business, and your high, squeaky voice would call from the bathroom- "Jooorgeeeeeee... I forgot my towel- can you hand it to me?" Every. Single. Fucking. Morning. You're lucky I closed my eyes.

By the way... there's something on your shirt. If you looked, I have no hope for you.

Write me back as soon as you get this! Or I'll send Golem on your scrawny little ass- I'll tell him you have the one ring and he'll chew your face off! (Don't worry- I didn't tell anyone you're afraid of him.)

WHICH REMINDS ME! Have you read The Fellowship yet?

Hope I made you laugh,

Jorge

PS- Wow. That was stupid. I almost told you to write me back without giving you an address. Derrrr...

Dear Michael,

Sorry this was late; I've been very busy with work. Our drug is in Phase 3 development right now and I've been in and out of the Pfizer headquarters non-stop. Morgan made this card for you- she's very handy with crafts. You should write back and thank her.

I already sent one card but it was returned to me. Apparently Evelyn is in rehab and you are... where you are, so the house was sold. Your psychologist, Dr. Ivanova, told me the situation. Dr. Ivanova told me that St. Christina's most likely won't be like Marquette General Hospital where you were released after just three days. I hope you're doing well.

You're thirteen now right? Have you gotten over your fear of being alone? You know separation anxiety should really be outgrown in childhood, but I guess it is what it is.

I've enclosed $30 as a gift. I don't know if you'll be able to use it, but I really didn't know what else to give you.

-Your father

June 14th, 2011

Jorge,

Sorry this was late... you know how I am with empty rooms. I have to wait until either Nate or Connor is in the room with me before I can write. (PLEASE DON'T SEND GOLEM ON ME! That's one of the main reasons why I haven't read The Fellowship yet... I'm gonna have nightmares now...)

Like your new name? Haha- I think your new potential-last name is kind of cool actually. It's mysterious- not too many people have a really really Spanish first name and a really really Greek last name. Which brings me to my next point...

CONGRATULATIONS!! I wish I was in Michigan to see you go off with your most-likely new family! Remember how we said that whoever gets fostered first, the other person has to throw a party? Well, I owe you a party... sometime. If they let me leave. I'm so happy you're having a good time there- awwh! Your sisters aren't even two years old yet? I thought you hated kids- you're starting to get soft, Mr. I-Never-Put-Up-With-Children-Because-I'm-So-Badass-And-Hispanic! Be a good big brother and watch over the twins so they don't become pot-heads like Tori and Brielle. (Morgan doesn't know about that one!)

OH! Speaking of big brothers, I think I met mine! His name is Talon (He has such a cool name, doesn't he?) and I met him when I was organizing books. We're really close now, as close as we can be, and it's only been a few days. I want to be like him when I get older- he's such a nice person.

So... I'm on the danger ward. I guess I'm dangerous, because Ward A is the ward where the patients can't go outside the hospital. (Patients on Ward B can go out on the island on weekends, and Ward C's can do it all the time within certain hours.) I'm always sure to remember my towel (Ha ha... very funny...) because Nate and Connor kind of scare me... a little bit. Nate doesn't seem like he likes to talk to me much and Connor... has trouble talking altogether. They're nice- as far as I can tell. They seem to tolerate me better than the wrestling team... or Butch. (How's Butch doing? Is he still at the home? AND WHY IS HIS NAME SO STEREOTYPICAL FOR A BULLY?!)

I looked for the spot on my shirt. For five minutes. I had to take it off to know what you were talking about... and then I realized that I'm not even on the continent. (I have to work on not being gullible like you have to work on being sensitive! I think it's a fair trade.)

Oh! By the way, Mr. Rogers was never a sniper. Talon told me that he was taping Mr. Roger's Neighborhood while the Vietnam War was going on. If you don't believe me, you can look it up- you're free, so you can.

It's... really great to hear from you, Jorge. I thought you hated me. (I always think my friends hate me. I don't know why. Please don't yell at me. OR send Golem on me!)

Oh no, now I'm seriously going to have trouble sleeping. I mentioned him twice... thanks a lot...

Write back... or... gosh, now I have to think of one. What are you afraid of?

-Mike

PS- What does "dropping the soap" mean??

Alan,

I didn't put my name on the return address for a reason- I was afraid you would throw this out without opening it. Now that you have, all I ask is that you read all of it. If you couldn't tell from the handwriting, it's Mike Courtenay... I didn't sign it as 'Court' because when we used to be friends, you told me to call you 'Alan' instead of 'Thatcher'. At this point, I don't know which you'd prefer, but I'm not on the team anymore, so I can't call you 'Thatcher'.

You already know that I'm sorry for what I did. While everyone was yelling at me, I apologized practically for every angry sentence and insult. While you shouted that you never wanted to see my face again, I apologized because I didn't know what else to say. And besides, before this happened, you tried to limit the times I'd apologize for something by telling me to only apologize once, no matter what the cause. I can honestly say that I haven't been living up to this since I left. Even though I know that it would be for the greater good, if you're not around to tell me not to, I don't have any motivation not to throw out 10+ apologies. You got really mad when I apologized more than once, so I think that if I apologized again now, it would be useless.

Instead of an apology, I owe you an explanation. When I first told everyone that I was leaving and wouldn't be coming back, everyone on the team wouldn't give me a chance to say why... including you. I don't even think I would've said much at the time, but here's the full story:

A few days before I quit the team, my mom lost her job. I already told you about her drinking problem, and I doubt you've told anyone else, but it got progressively worse since the last time we talked about it. (Oh, I don't know, a few years ago, right?) She woke me up in the middle of the night and demanded that I get in the car. Mind you, she was as drunk as she could be, but she managed to take me to the police station without us dying or anything. I watched her slam the door to the police chief's office, and I waited. I could hear her screaming in the background, and I was afraid because I had no idea what was going on. She eventually came out and was escorted into a police car without saying a word to me. The police officer told me that she had to go to rehab and felt that she couldn't take care of me anymore.

So then I was placed in a youth home (Kind of like an orphanage) and I was there for a few days before I told the whole team I was leaving. The real reason why I left is because I couldn't bring myself to play baseball anymore. I loved being on the team, and I loved being your pitcher, but everything that I once enjoyed... made me sick to my stomach. I didn't want to keep the ace pitcher's position while knowing that I couldn't try or play my best. That would be even more selfish than leaving.

But, a few days after that, I quickly found that quitting the team was the worst mistake of my life. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't move... until everything fell apart in my head and all of my emotions came tumbling out of the closet I usually only stuff anger into. I had a complete mental breakdown and had to be hospitalized a second time. You already knew that I was hospitalized two years ago- I called you while I was there. I remember our conversation- you wanted to know what happened, if I was okay and if anyone was mean to me. You sounded angry, but I could tell that you were only angry at yourself... even after I told you it wasn't your fault.

When I got out of the most recent hospitalization, my therapist gave me an application for the St. Christina Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center. I filled it out because I doubted that I would be accepted, and I made a vow to myself that I would return to society, find you and explain everything. But then I found out that I wouldn't be returning ANYWHERE when I was told that I was accepted. I was put on a plane and I knew that you would get your wish- you probably WON'T see me again. St. Christina's, for the most part, is a long-term facility. I won't be getting out any time soon.

And here I am now. That's why the return address says 'St. Christina's'. It's a mental hospital on an island. (It's not Shutter Island though... thank God.)

I'm not expecting you to having sympathy for me, or even reply. I just wanted you to read it so that you'd know why I was so selfish to leave the team in the middle of the season. I just want you to know that, in my mind, you still are my best friend. Even though I haven't improved much, you definitely helped make me less nervous. I really don't know where I would be if I hadn't met you at all.

We first met when we were in the fifth grade. I don't like to think of it this way, but in a lot of ways, everyone else on the team had given up trying to interact with me because I'm so nervous. You didn't. You helped me, Alan. You helped me realize that I was an important part of the team, despite my protests. You helped me calm down when I was flipping out on the mound during a game. You helped me realize that my wide variety of different breaking balls gave you more of a game plan and the slow velocity of my fast ball tripped up many a batter.

You helped me realize at least SOME things that are okay about me. When I met new friends in the hospital, you were always in the back of my mind encouraging me to talk. I have friends now, and that's really all that's going on with me, if you wanted to know.

You're still really important to me, and I definitely will never forget about you, no matter how many years I spend locked up here. You don't have to write back if you don't want to. Just know that I did NOT abandon everyone... and that if I could have stayed on the team, I would have. I just didn't think that I could give back as much as everyone else given my old and newfound issues.

-Mike 'Court' Courtenay