Richie,
I'm sorry I didn't invite you over for Thanksgiving. I really wanted to, believe me, but I grew so scared at the idea of my mom drilling you with thousands of questions. She always interrogates my friends, and that's why I just stopped bringing people over. She likes Ben, though. Everyone likes Ben. He's likable. God, what do you think she'd do if I brought Beverly over? She'd get me tested for STD's on the spot. She hates girls, she thinks they'll corrupt me. We learned a word for that in our humanities class, are you taking humanities? You should take it next year, it's a good class. It taught me that my mom is "misogynistic" and she has "Munchausen syndrome by proxy." That means she makes up illnesses for me, just so that she can shelter me and give her life some sort of purpose. I think that's really sad, so I just let her.
I think you stayed home for Thanksgiving, and that makes me really sad. I wish I knew where your parents are, just so I could give them each a hard punch. (I wouldn't in reality, but it's nice to pretend.) Either way, we had two days off for school, and I missed you all weekend. I think you are ignoring me, because I heard that you were going to hang out at Stan's, but once I got permission to come over, you backed out and decided to go ding-dong-ditching with Beverly. I get she's, like, your best friend and everything, but why did you choose her over us? Was it because I was there?
I think it's because of what happened when we went camping. I'm confused too, Richie. Why can't we figure it out together? Sometimes I feel so close to just telling you, just blurting it out and letting you know about every single thought that enters my head, but that would be disastrous. Can't we talk about what happened? It's not normal, no "friends" hold each other like that. I was right, you needed to be held. You curl up against me so tightly, and you somehow make yourself seem so small. You don't have to do that, Richie. You don't have to minimize yourself just for my sake. You aren't a burden, and I'll still hold you either way. It was nice, okay? It was nice. Even after I calmed down from the nightmare, the whole night was spent entwined with one another, and I swear I felt your lips graze my jaw at one point. Why do we have to pretend like it didn't happen? It was so nice. Why are you so upset by it? Was it a mistake? I hope not. Please, please don't be a mistake.
I think I really want to go see you. It's a Saturday, you should be home. I haven't heard about plans from anybody, so I think that I'll ride my bike on over to your house and see if you want to talk about this. I hope you do. I really, really hope you do.
I'm going to go now before I lose the nerve. It's not that late, so momma should let me out of the house with no problem. I'll just say I'm going to study with Benjamin. Again, she likes him.
I'll bring the journal with so that I can write down what happens, in case you ever find this when you're old and have dementia. I hope it goes well, I really really... like you, Richie. I do.
I'll see you soon, beautiful boy.
Eds.