The Letter

The sewing needle slipped out of its package and jammed into my index finger. Three tiny droplets of blood fell onto the dirty wooden floor. 

“Son of a bitch,” I hissed, wiping the remaining blood on my jeans. 

“Ay, I’m telling!” Javier, my twin brother, shouted from across the room. Even in the poorly lit room, it was easy to make out his light blue button-down shirt and jeans. He combined his dirty blond hair down just the way mom liked it.  

“You’re such a momma’s boy. You’re the reason we’re up here in the first place,” I said. 

Sure, he wasn’t the entire reason we were in this mess, but he was the reason our mom found out about that night. He just had to feel guilty lying to her about where we had been. It hadn’t been that big of a deal. It wasn’t like we killed anyone.

Last Friday night we went to Taylor Johnson’s house to hang out with a few friends. Sure, I had a beer or two, but lots of teenagers drank. All he had to do was lie. Instead, he ended up blurting out everything that happened to our mother. 

Thanks to him, we were both grounded for two weeks and had to clean out the attic. Why did they want us to clean it? No one came up here. No one wanted to come up here. 

The entire room smelled of mold and wet dog. They had shoved dozens of dusty boxes, bins, and containers up against the peeling white walls.

With a sigh, I tossed my dirty blonde hair into a ponytail. And, attempted to smooth out the wrinkles on my black band t-shirt.

“Why did they bother saving any of this stuff?”

He shrugged. “They wanted to have it for later?”  

Reaching down into a bin, I pulled out a broken coffee mug. “Really? They wanted to save this?”

He pressed his lips together. “They could’ve. It’s not all just junk, Bonnie.” 

“Prove it.”  

Javier spun around in a circle and held a finger to his chin. Settling on a stack of bins, he dug through them. He coughed on the dust flying in the air. After a solid five minutes, he grinned. “It’s not all junk,” he said. “It looks like these are letters between Grandpa and Grandma.” He held up envelopes with the names Mary and Jack written on them.

My chest tightened seeing Grandma’s beautiful handwriting written across the envelope. It had been only six months since she had passed away, and it hadn’t gotten any better. Grandpa moved in with us about three months ago, when dad discovered he had stopped eating. 

Sucking in a breath, I strolled across the attic and snatched the envelope in Grandma’s handwriting out of Javier’s hand. The corner of the envelope had a coffee stain, and bits of the material flaked off onto the floor. With steady hands, I opened it.

“Bonnie!” Javier cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Aren’t you curious?” I asked. “Don’t you want to know what she was like when she was younger?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “We should ask Grandpa. He’d probably like to see these.”

I snorted. “Fat chance. We’re not even allowed to utter her name in front of him.”

Before Javier could argue, I pulled the letter out of the envelope.

August 17, 1959

Dear Jack,

I miss you more than you’ll ever know. I don’t think you should come back just yet. It’s not safe for us to be together. We must continue to live separate lives until everything, and everyone has calmed down. If you come back now, they’d suspect what happened. No one can ever know what happened that night. Please be safe.

Love,

Mary

“They weren’t allowed to be together?” he asked. “That’s romantic.”

My stomach churned. Grandma sounded scared or worried. This didn’t seem to be some sappy love letter like in THE NOTEBOOK.

“Give me the other one.”

Javier jerked his hand away. “They’re private, Bonnie. We don’t need to read these.”

“Oh, c’mon,” I said. “That letter is more than just forbidden love. Give it to me.”

“Here we go,” he rolled his eyes. “This isn’t one of your online conspiracy theories.” 

My eyes narrowed. On the weekends, I’d spent hours watching YouTube videos on any conspiracy theories I could find. But this wasn’t just some theory. Something was wrong here. 

Reaching over him, I jerked the envelope out of his hand. 

“Hey!”

August 21, 1959

Dear Mary,

I miss you too, my angel. I can’t wait to have you back in my arms. I understand what you’re saying. The cops will lose interest in the case, and we’ll be back together soon. All this will soon be behind us. I hardly think about him anymore. I hope one day you can forgive yourself.

Love,

Jack

I swallowed hard. Cops? Him?

Javier yanked the letter out of my hand. “This has to be a joke, right? Because this sounds like-”

“Like they killed someone?” I whispered. “Still think this is some stupid conspiracy theory?” 

He rifled through the remaining letter in the box. “It has to be. They weren’t capable of killing someone. They weren’t capable of it, Bonnie!” Javier snapped. Was he trying to convince himself or me? 

He pulled out one letter. “This is the earliest one,” he said, handing it over. The envelope had grandma’s writing on it.

My hands shook as I unsealed the envelope. Before I could pull the letter out, a newspaper clipping fell out. Even in the poor light, the writing was clear. “DANTE HALE FOUND BURIED IN A SHALLOW GRAVE.” 

Bile rose in my throat. Everyone in town knew about Dante Hall. He died back in 1959, and no one knew exactly what happened to him. There were dozens of theories, but none of them mentioned my grandparents.

“No,” I said. “There’s no way in hell they killed Dante. They… they weren’t capable of it.”

“Read the letter,” demanded Javier.  

July 31, 1959

Dear Jack,

Look at what we’ve done. We should’ve told them the truth. They found the body last week. They know, they have to know. It was an accident… we shouldn’t have been out. How are we going to live with ourselves? We will go to jail. We need to go to jail.

Mary 

August 4, 1959

My Angel Mary,

I’ve missed you greatly. I promise you; no one suspects a thing. No one will figure out what happened. Nothing we could’ve done could’ve brought him back. It wouldn’t have helped. We must protect ourselves. I promise I’ll make this up to you. We should not talk about this further over the mail. We’re forever bound by this secret.

Love,

Jack 

For the rest of the afternoon, Javier and I read the remaining letters between our grandparents. My stomach churned, and the color drained from Javier’s face. The letters laid randomly across the attic floor. Silence filled the room. What were we supposed to do? Our grandparents killed someone. 

Finally, he spoke. “Do… we tell mom and dad?”

“No!” I snapped. “Or… I don’t know. You need to give me a minute to think.” Or, rather, several minutes to think. I buried my face into my hands. I’m gonna be sick.

It could’ve been five minutes or five hours before we spoke again. How could grandpa and grandma be killers? Or accidental killers?

“Javier! Bonnie!”

I froze.

Grandpa’s heavy boots stomped up the steps to the attic. In mere seconds, he appeared in the doorway. His brown eyes filled with exhaustion, and his greying hair stuck up in the air. The overalls fit loosely on his thin body. With a huff, he leaned against the door frame.

How could the man who read me bedtime stories and snuck me candy be a killer?

“Your mom sent me to check on you,” he said. “Doesn’t look like you’ve gotten too much done. What are you two troublemakers up to?”

“We found your letters!” Javier blurted out.

Grandpa’s brows knitted together. “What letters?”

Silence. Javier and I exchanged a glance. 

Swallowing hard, I discreetly tried to move the letters in the corner. “Just some old letters to dad.”

He shook his head. “Don’t lie to me, Bonnie-Bear. What letters?”

He turned towards Javier. “What letters is she talking about?”

Javier squirmed on the floor.

“What letters, Javier?”

Javier pressed his eyes closed. “The letters you and grandma wrote about Dante.”

“Oh.” 

Grandpa stepped into the attic and closed the door behind him. As the door slammed shut, the lightbulb flickered off.