By Peter Wallace
Mom,
I know you and Dad aren’t talking but could you PLEASE decide what you’re doing about Buffalo Bill? He bit the neighbor’s kid, and now they’re trying to track me down because I’m the only one who seems to have a phone.
I’ll be back from Oregon in a couple of weeks.
Love,
Peter
Mom,
Here’s the insurance policy number. I don’t think it covers fire if you set it, but be my guest and ask. Can you stay with Lydia at Uncle Jack’s? Maybe offer to take care of the kids.
Oregon is going well. I really love the students.
Love,
Peter
Dear Mom,
Frankie told me about your skidding off the road. Are you OK? She said the motorcycle got totaled but that you walked away. Maybe your eighties is the time to get a car instead. Think about it. I wish you’d get a phone.
Lydia said you tried to evict her and the kids. You can’t evict someone from property you don’t own. Stay in the motel on 417, near the bar. They’ll let you stay until I come pay the bill.
The first week of Oregon is done, and I feel like I belong here already. I’ll show you pictures when I get back.
Love,
Peter
Mom,
Enclosed is the check. It’s already made out to Samantha for $457. That’s what Frankie told me the bar said the damage total was. (And just so you know, that’s about a third of what I’m getting for teaching.) Tell Samantha I kind of hold her responsible for letting Dad have those martinis again. She knows beer is as much as he can handle. And you know better. But I’m glad you and Dad are talking again.
They have these mountains here that are amazing. We went up in them to see a sunrise. Makes you know that God exists.
Love,
Peter
Dear Mom,
You can’t sell Uncle Jack’s place. It’s not yours to sell. He didn’t leave it to you. And besides, Lydia and her kids are there until George gets out of jail next month. So please stop talking to that realtor. And get a phone.
Here in Oregon the kids are writing these amazing things. It gives me hope, especially after they closed the Valley View grade school back home and that crazy Reverend started homeschooling everyone, saying that dinosaurs were on Noah’s ark.
Love,
Peter
Mom,
I’ll be back Saturday night, so sit tight. The folks at Salt Lick Memorial are pretty good, and Dad’s a tough old bird. When he lost his other foot in the shredder, he hardly blinked, remember? And Frankie says Buffalo Bill only took off two toes, so Dad will still be able to get around. Don’t let Eddy Slogan do the clean up again. He’ll terrify Buffalo Bill. And he charges an arm and a leg.
Oregon’s pretty much over. (And by the way, I’m teaching “writing”, not “riding.” When Frankie reads to you, tell her to enunciate. You hearing this, Frankie? You know I don’t get on bikes – or even horses – anymore.) We’re saying our goodbyes today. I wish I could be a fly on the wall of these kid’s lives. It’s going to be fascinating.
Have Frankie pick me up at the bus station. OK, Frankie?
Love,
Peter
Bio:
Peter Wallace’s first novel, Speaker, was published in 2020. He has taught writing practices at universities in Myanmar, Turkey, and Russia through the Institute for Writing and Thinking, and is on the Language and Thinking faculty at Bard College. He now teaches playwriting and writes in the Pacific Northwest of the US.