June 4th, 1974 Washington, DC
Dearest Mara,
How I miss the 'eye' and you!
Everything here is all messed up. I was going to play in my teacher's musicale, but I managed to slam my hand in the car door. Writing is slow, so this will be short. I slammed the door, and there was my hand still in it. I had to open it again with my left hand to free it. I was yelling at the top of my lungs. So instead of concert, I got stitches.
Write soon,
your idiot,
Cal Hunter
June 9th, 1974, Brattleboro, Vermont
My Dear Cal,
Very sorry to hear about your accident! (It was an accident, wasn't it? I know you hate performing.) Just kidding. Who would slam a hand in a car door just to get out of a few minutes of nerves? (I might, actually.)
Things here are cat's meow. I went down to town center for auditions. Here's the good part. I'm giving auditions, not taking them! Here's the bad part. Everybody is really, really BAD!!! No matter what I do, this show is going to SUCK!!!
One good thing, I got a letter from your friend Xenia. She's back in Scottsdale basically doing what I'm doing. Her summerstock adventure sounds much better than mine, and I'm green with envy. Green. Good color for a summer in BBoro. Ha ha ha. Trying to cheer you up with jokes, so buck up old lad, pip pip I say.
I'll tell you the truth. I don't care if you write back. I'm in it up to my neck, with no time to sing.
love,
Mara the Magnificent
July 15th, 1974, DC
Dear Mag,
I loved your recent. It made me laugh. I don't like the idea that you'll clam up word-wise. I haunt the mailbox every day looking for your handwriting. My hand, in bandage is throbbing. I've been working on new movements for a 'suite,' but w/out the ability to really play, I wonder what I'm really up to.
I've thought a lot about the past year and us. I loved you on the stage, and I loved you in the water at Walden. Will you at least let me love you as I love you? Never mind. If I write more like this, I'll have to start over, and that hurts too much. I wish you all the best with your cast of losers. Please don't make me wait too long for your blue pen masterpieces. I'm languishing.
love and fingers,
Cal Hunter
June 28th, 1974, BB
Silly Cal,
Of course I love you! Madly, dearly, all ways.
However, there is a complication. I've been spending much time with a man I hired to dance in the stupid show, and he's been very entertaining. I listened with both ears when you once explained that 'all orgasms were alike in the dark.' Now, I'm really beginning to understand what you were saying. We are all hard up for entertainment. We are looking for ways to be more human, more involved. I'm getting involved and I have you to thank. I'm sure you'll be egging me on by return post.
love, in absentia,
Mara
July 8th, 1974, DC
Mara,
I have to tell you. You made me very crazy with your last. I threw Mom's tupperware of meatloaf at Dad and chased him around the block with a spatula. Ridiculous, and all your fault.
I went to the fireworks with the family, down to Hains Point. E Pluribus Unum, amen. I was sitting apart, because I'm not 13 anymore. I was still seething about you and your new entertainment. I am not taking credit. I'm taking offense. So there I was, 'with that comical look on my face, because I'd just had the shit kicked out,' (or however that Bogart quote goes), when some gorgeous babe comes up and asks if 'I'm ok.' OK? I'm ok. My girlfriend's seeing someone else. My babe says, "perhaps I can make you feel better." I'm like "yeah. You can suck me off right here in full view of my Mother." The woman was not impressed. She flipped me the bird and left me to lick my wounds myself.
I wish you all the best,
Cal Hunter
July 15th, 1974, BB
Cal,
It occurred to me to let your recent letter go unanswered. That would serve you right. However, in between the lines I detect a human being and am willing to ignore your hypocrisy.
You don't think I'm capable or ready to love two people at once? Isn't that what you were always preaching over the course of the term? If it works for you, why can't it work for me?
You might want to think things over more carefully next time, before you go off half cocked.
Mara
Cal stared at this letter for exactly the 11 seconds it took to read it. And then, he made the paper into a tight ball and started towards the family trash bin. But on the way, he doubled over in tears. Sturm und Drang. He un-balled the paper and fought to re-insert it into its envelope. He sat down at the family table with his pad of paper to try to save the day, the relationship, and his psyche.
July 18th, 1974, DC
Mara (the Magnificent) Monetti,
I have indeed been an ass. I'm not going to rally to my defense. I'm going to wish you all the best, bless you on your way, and let you commit unspeakable acts of profane lust...
He tears this piece of paper off the pad, crumples it, and tosses it on the floor.
Take 2.
July 18th, 1974, DC
Dear Mara,
I'm so sorry I've confused you.
I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me. Do I believe in yesterday?
Crumpled, trashed.
Dear Ms. Monetti,
You will find enclosed the last will and testament of Calbraith Hunter, composer. He loved you with all his heart, and even though you threw him to the wolves, he bequeathed his oeuvre to you.
Crumpled, trashed.
At least 20 more attempts collected on the linoleum. None were sent. He let this exchange drop. Yet in the Fall, they were, for one brilliant moment, reunited.
