Chapter 43

I looked at Peter, curled up in his sleeping bag on my floor almost like a puppy. I think he really missed his mom and dad today, though being a grown-up freshman he couldn't show it. But on Thanksgiving even grown-up juniors feel just a little closer to their families.

Peter and Traci had taken to following along when Tami and I took our walks. Not intruding, but creating their own little ritual. I wondered if they'd last. They were awfully young.

Damn, now I knew what Mom felt like when Tami and I talked about being in love.

Still, I could do worse for a brother-in-law. Peter was good people. And that'd make Kelly and Mikee sisters-in-law, or sisters-in-law once removed. I wasn't sure. And Alana. I'd be related to Alana. Since she was a goddess, I wondered what that made me. Out of luck, probably. Alana had decided not to go back to school, at least not this year, and was in New Zealand doing a lingerie photo spread for Vogue. I made a mental note to pick up a copy.

Maybe I could get Robbie's sister Samantha to write Alana. She seemed to combine modeling and school and had a lot of fun doing it.

Of course, that would make Kenny a relative too.

I sighed, 'cause I knew I was stalling. Tami and I had talked about the letter on our walk, but now...

I swivelled in my chair and looked at the blank screen on my computer. It would only take a few minutes, and I needed to do it.

I had a little extra money saved up. I could log onto Buy dot com real quick. Check out their specials. They had some great buys. Maybe I could pick up one of those flat LCD's. I'd have so much more room on my desk. Or...

I was stalling again.

I put my hands on the keyboard and started typing.

Mrs. Morganthal.

I'm tempted to write, "Hi. How are you? I'm Fine. Tony "

This is one of those times that there's so much to say and no words to say it. But I'll try.

I've been thinking a lot about Zoe lately. No, that isn't true. I think a lot about Zoe everyday. She was an amazing girl and made an impact on me and everyone who knew her that can't be measured. But lately, she's been even more on my mind.

You may remember that last year, just after you moved here, the high school had a play contest.

We performed three plays, then sent the winner, Leslie Villier's Inherit the Wind, to the state competition, where she won. Our group performed an original musical that came in second. Zoe talked a lot about going to all three and the differences in how we staged them. She loved the theater, and it's too bad we didn't know or she could have been part of our production. She also told me that she voted for Leslie's play, but I never held that against her. It was better.

This year, our group again put together an original production. A musical drama called Zoe's Song. We won. Not so much because we were wonderful or anything, I think mostly we won because it reminded people of Zoe.

I'm enclosing a video cassette of our performance.

This is not Zoe's story. This is Zoe's tribute.

The girl in the play (played by my sister Traci, you may remember her) isn't Zoe, and isn't supposed to be. She's a girl like Zoe who's going through something that Zoe had to go through. The character's mother (played by Robbie Tate) isn't you, and isn't supposed to be. But she's a mother in the impossible position of watching her own daughter die a little every day. And finally, the boy (played by Peter Temple, I don't think you ever met him) isn't me.

Like I said, this isn't Zoe's story. This is Zoe's tribute.

I wrote it after Mikee suggested it. And I think that in writing it I understood a little more who Zoe was. And who you were.

I hope that being back in New York has helped. Zoe loved New York and talked about it endlessly. I almost feel like I know the city myself, and I've never been east of Wyoming. I know being closer to family and old friends has. Zoe told me enough about her aunts, uncles, and cousins that they feel like family to me.

Remember that she'd want you to be happy. She loved you very much.

Tony

Who knew her too short a time.

I sat back and looked at the screen. It wasn't perfect, but I hoped it would help her know how much we all cared about Zoe without opening any new wounds. It was important that she saw the play. But it was more important that she realized that we didn't think of her as, like Robbie once called the character, the Bitch from Hell.

I printed the letter, then put it and the video cassette into a padded envelope and sealed it. I couldn't remember if there was mail service the day after Thanksgiving, but Mom would know.