Part Three

1

Dear Mrs. James,

Dr. Lavery says I am making good progress. I don't exactly know what he means by that, but I'll have to take his word for it.

In the meantime, I have been reading all the time and have tentatively decided to become a veterinarian when I am released from here. Not that I expect _that_ to happen any time soon! I don't think they understand me very well here. They pretend to listen to what I am saying, but I see their eyes looking at other places when I am talking. I never thought of doctors being dishonest. There's not many people you can trust these days, are there? I must say though that I think I can trust you. That is why I am writing to you. I hope you don't mind too much.

My favorite books so far are those popular bestsellers about a veterinarian working in England. You know, the ones that have been turned into the very successful television series on the educational channel? Personally, I don't watch the show itself because I think television is for idiots. There are many big color television sets here at the Institute which are turned on all day long. It is almost impossible to avoid the noise they make, no matter where you are or what you are doing.

I'm sure all of my letters to you are monitored and read by someone here, and they will most likely raise an eyebrow at the animosity exhibited by my attitude, but I do not mean it to sound that way. I only wish to plead the case of turning those infernal sets _down_. That isn't too much to ask, is it? Not everyone here is interested in reruns of the _Superman_ show, believe me! There are those of us who are interested in more important things. Personally I would only like a quiet corner somewhere where I could read, or simply think, but often even that is virtually impossible to find in this overly loud place.

Oh, well, one can't have everything one wants in life.

How are you and Mr. James? Healthy and happy, I sincerely hope. Is your child Mae talking yet? In your last letter you mentioned her age, so I went to the library here and spent a good few hours reading up on the subject. Did you know that it is not uncommon for children to begin speaking at a surprisingly early age? Listen carefully – those funny baby sounds you hear may even be the real thing!

Well, that's all for now. I hope I haven't bored you too much this time. As I seem to tell you every time, I think a great deal about what I want to say to you in these letters. Somehow they never turn out to sound like I want them to, or say the right thing.

Oh well, I said that I wanted to be a veterinarian and not a writer, so I guess that's okay. Ha! Ha!

I will write again in a few days, you poor woman.

Very sincerely yours,

Alvin Williams

Dear Alvin,

Thank you for your last letter. What you said about when children begin to talk was interesting, but I'm afraid our little Mae is still at the stage where the four words in her entire vocabulary are all variations of either oogle or google.

I think your idea about becoming a veterinarian is a good one. My husband suggested you might want to look into different correspondence courses that are offered by certain schools. I don't know if you have your high school diploma yet, but it might be worthwhile to investigate this possibility. That way, you could gain certain credits while you are in the Institute and then continue your studies later at whatever school has the course you want.

When I was at college, I never had any real idea of what I wanted to do with my life later. As a result, I took courses all over the place in only the things that interested me. It was nice and I ended up with a degree in history, but in retrospect it was not a terrifically productive way of going about things. I admire your being able to tell even now what it is you want later.

A veterinarian does a great job. My good friend Eliot Kilbertus says he only wishes he could find a good one in New York. According to him, they all charge a fortune but aren't very effective.

The spring seems to have arrived and I'm glad of it. Recently all of us went out to Long Island for the weekend. A friend of mine owns a house out there in Remsenberg, right in the middle of a bird sanctuary. When we went there I noticed that some of the frailer fellows had already flown in from wintering down south, and it's not even the middle of the month yet. A good sign. I even had a dream the other night where I was walking around in a T-shirt and the ugliest Bermuda shorts you ever saw. When you start dreaming about shorts, summer can't be too far off.

Be well.

Cullen James

2

«Cullen?»

«Yes?»

«Where did you get this leather jacket? It is beautiful!»

My eyebrows went straight up while my eyes closed tight. Weber Gregston's leather jacket! I'd hidden it in the deepest, darkest corner of my closet and _never_ wore it when Danny was around. He was very aware of what I wore and almost always noticed when I had on something new. I'd figured out that if I waited a few months, then one day I could casually tell him about this _incredible_ bargain I'd picked up at a thrift shop right down the block. . . .

The best-laid plans of mice and men. . . .

«_What_ jacket?»

«This one – the leather one.» He came into the room holding it out in front of him. «Where the hell did you pet this? It's fantastic!»

«Uh oh. Discovery time. Don't get mad.»

«Mad?» Cul, you didn't charge it, did you? Honey, I know you love clothes and as far as I'm concerned when we have the money –«

«No, Danny, wait! I didn't charge it. Eliot gave it to me for my birthday.»

«Your birthday? That's not for a month!»

I shrugged – little Miss Innocent. «Yes, well, he gave it to me early, Dan. What am I supposed to say? We knew you'd squawk about it and that's why I didn't tell you. Are you mad?»

«Cullen, I assume 'Gianni Versace' means it's Italian. Italian leather jackets cost more than the national debt. I don't care how rich Eliot is; this is just too much.»

I watched him walk to the phone, call my excuse and ask him to come over to our apartment for a few minutes.

«Hi, guys! Oh good, you both look pissed off. Are you fighting? Can I watch?»

«Eliot, did you really give this jacket to Cullen for her birthday?»

«No.» His face was blank.

«Eliot!» My voice got very close to cracking. «Don't lie! Tell the truth. You did too give it to me for my birthday.»

«No, I didn't, Cullen. I gave it to you because I love you. Your birthday just happened to be a good excuse.»

My blood pressure dropped several notches, but not Danny's. He handed me the jacket and sat down next to me on the couch, frowning all the while. «El, you can't do that!»

«Daniel, old chum, I happen to have something exquisite for your birthday too. Would you like me to go down and get it?»

«No, Eliot. Now you're making me feel very uncomfortable. It's not right; it's really nice of you, but the whole thing's not right.»

«That's true, but this way you'll both feel completely indebted and guilty if you don't treat me wonderfully.»

«Oh come on, Danny. You're generous yourself. Don't make Eliot feel bad just because he is too.»

For the first time in our lives together, my husband threw his hands in the air. «That's not the point, Cullen. I'm not Ebenezer Scrooge!»

«God bless our presents, every one!»

«Quiet, Eliot! You know exactly what I'm talking about.»

«Danny, since I'm the accused here, I have a right to say something. The James family are the only people on the entire face of the earth I would do _anything_ for. And you both know that. Anything! Everyone else I hang around with is witty, charming and full of shit. All gleam and no stuff. I love some of them, hate most and trust no one but the two of you. That's the truth. If you stopped being my friends, I'd die!