Dear Grandma

Thursday 1^st September 2022

Dear James,

I just wanted to drop you a line at your new address – I wouldn’t be much of a grandmother if I didn’t mark the occasion of you finally moving out!

I think it is so good that you have struck out on your own at last. I know this job isn’t what you really want to be doing, but I am sure good things will come your way if you can buck your trend and knuckle down to some hard graft. I think this is a better foot in the door than your “degree” in any case!

I was surprised I had to address this to “Room 4” – I thought it might have been a mistake and you meant “Apartment”. Curtis always had an apartment when he made the move to the Big Smoke – he has the house in Islington now of course – but I suppose needs must. We all bloom in our own way – and at our own pace!

I am sure it is good to be out from under our feet though. I know you’re very grateful we all accommodated you for so long, but I’m sure we cramped your style too! Perhaps you might meet someone you can bring home for Christmas – it is a chore catering an uneven table!

Though I must admit I was glad to hear that things were broken off between you and that Charlene girl. I had hoped that you would have taken the lead in ending things – and sooner – considering how she ran about behind your back, but I suppose you were worried about finding someone else. I hope you have learned that you can’t let yourself be disrespected like that. You are a Crofthouse, and you must understand that means something.

Anyway, I shan’t prattle on. I’m sure you have better things to do than let your grandmother keep you. I hope you have an enterprising first week at work, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Your loving Grandmother

Saturday 10^th September 2022

Dear Grandma,

Thank you for writing me at my new address. House-shares are quite common among people my age, and I really like my new housemates. Eneko – he’s Basque – is a scientist who used to work at NASA, and Hedda – she’s Norwegian – is doing a PhD in Engineering. It is fantastic being part of such a talented house!

The job is going really well too! It’s early days, but Matthew (who does the same job as me) seems to like me, and that must mean something because he’s been there for nearly twenty years.

I know you’re not exactly the biggest fan of my painting, but a small, local gallery is considering displaying some of my work at an event next month. I’ll let you know the details if it goes ahead!

I’ll also do my best to keep “blooming” and bring someone home for Christmas. There’s lots of chances to meet people at work and Phillip (another housemate) threw a big party in our living room last night. 

I hope you’re well, and I look forward to seeing you soon.

Love,

James

The above letter was not sent.

Tuesday 13^th September 2022

Dear Grandma,

I would love to thank you for your letter, but that would require an act so ingenuine that my cells would likely shrivel to non-function if I asked them to perform it. How can I thank you when you left your every line marinating in such wicked poison?

You are right, the new job is not what I want to be doing. It was the only thing I could get that allowed me to the flee the flower-patterned hell of living beneath a roof sagging with the weight of your noxious influence. My degree probably isn’t much use to me in glorified data entry, but I’m sure the machine that will soon replace me won’t have one either. My colleague might struggle to adjust when he is put out of twenty years of misery compiling spreadsheets, but I won’t mind. This isn’t a foot in the door, it’s a foot out of yours.

Not that it matters to you, but the skills I learned during my “degree” might be the reason a boutique gallery expressed an interest in displaying some of my artwork at an event in October. It might not be much in your eyes, but it means the world to me. I love what I do, and I wish that mattered to being a Crofthouse. 

Maybe my art will never take me to a house in Islington, but really that’s as much about the vandalism your generation did to the housing market as it is the quality of my brushstrokes. I’d love to have my own four walls without surprise house parties and someone thieving the last of my milk from the fridge. I know, I know, if I just quit the coffee and avocado toast the world would be my oyster. … I could try to explain how limited your understanding of economic trends is, but there is never any point trying to explain anything to you, grandma. You have deaf ears even when you have your hearing aids in.  

Although, you may find it interesting to know that Curtis probably won’t be living in Islington for long either. Yes, enterprising Curtis, apple of your eye… well, you might call him the owner of a car dealership, but the police call him a person of interest in their crackdown on chop-shops. He hasn’t told any of you, but I know the investigation is ongoing and it doesn’t seem to be going away. I wonder if “chop-shop” is a word in the Crofthouse family dictionary?

And Charlene… I loved Charlene. I still do love her. What I had with her was something rich and beautiful. She didn’t cheat on me. You wouldn’t understand how we could have other partners and not let it diminish our love for one another. Perhaps I cannot expect you to understand that. Polyamory is a far cry from the traditions you were raised by… but, I think what I could expect is for you to not frame every new idea through such corrosive narrowness. You will only accept what you know. You’re like a child’s block toy, and as a result you haven’t grown all that much since you last played with one. 

Charlene left me because she knew how much grief being caught holding hands with someone else was causing the pearl clutching Crofthouse family. I won’t be bringing anyone home for Christmas, grandma. I’m just not ready. Even if I were, how could I lower them into that shark tank. 

The only part of your letter that I managed to enjoy was when you said I likely had better things to do than let my grandmother keep me. I do. 

I would therefore be grateful if you did not write again.

James

The above letter was not sent.

Thursday 15^th September

Dear Grandma,

Why do you work so hard to find my shortcomings? Why do you take pleasure in them? Is it because I decided for myself what my happiness should look like? Did I not listen to you enough?

If I had studied what you recommended, if I had pursued the girls you approved of, if I woke up every morning and tried to emulate grandpa, would you then be kind to me? If I could invite you around for afternoon tea at a house with the right post code, would you then lavish me with love and approval?

What does it take to be a Crofthouse? I thought being born might be enough, but someone seems to have left the responsibility of judging what a Crofthouse is up to you. How can I earn my wings, grandma? How can I become a person you are proud to call your grandson?

Please just tell me if that is even possible, and if it is the case that there is something deeper inside me that you just don’t like, please tell me that too. Tell me, because on some level I am still trying to please you, and if that is not possible then I would like very much to stop trying.

Your grandson…?

James

The above letter was not sent.

Saturday 17^th September

Dear Grandma,

You did lots of things that upset me while we lived under the same roof, but there was something different about having it in the cold permanence of your handwriting. There was no-one around to say, “that’s just how she is”, “she didn’t mean it like that” or “she just wants the best for you”. Your tracks were clearly imprinted in the fresh snow of the page, and they led only to malice.

You used the word “I” twenty-two times. You used it to begin thirteen sentences. You asked me zero questions. I want to tell you how much it hurts to have your opinions thrown at me like that. You throw them with no regard for their consequence. Careless hand-grenades cast from behind the ramparts of other people’s better manners. There’s a reason no-one bites back to you, grandma. It’s that no-one wants to become like you.

I could list so many examples of the pain you have caused me over the years, but I think the worst of it is how you have tried to turn Curtis and I against each other. You have two grandsons. You could have loved them and encouraged them, but instead you only fostered competition. Metered out your affection as a commodity to be earned. It’s led Curtis to make some bad decisions, and it’s caused me to become cold. I’ve distanced myself from a brother who could really use some help right now. Maybe I’ll have a relationship with him again one day, but I’m not sure the paths we’re on will mean that will ever be true of you.

The saddest thing is that you can’t even claim ignorance to your cruelty. You know when you have over-sharpened your words – that’s why you dot most of your insults with exclamation points! It’s a plausible deniability I hold up as evidence of your guilt. I don’t know if you would choose to double down on this denial, or simply deflect it all back to me, label me too sensitive and just carry on as you always have. I only know the one thing you would never do. 

You never ask questions. Of me. Of yourself. That’s one of the areas of difference between us, and I couldn’t be more glad of it. You see, I would really like to know what made you this way. What made you so uncurious, grandma? What made you so snide and venomous? What caused your contempt? Who took your love and left you in coal and bitterness?

It is so depressing that you will never attempt to answer those questions, whether I prompt you or not. It means I will never be able to understand you, and you me. And if we cannot understand each other, then how can we love each other?

I fear I must simply accept you as an unpleasant presence in my life, just a monthly dental appointment to be gotten through. I could cut you out, I suppose, but I fear that will tear at the fabric of people I still care about. It will be better this way, the lack of drama a better inhibitor to your influence.

I will see you around, grandma. I will write replies to your letters and sit across the table from you. My body will be there, and I’ll keep a bank of index cards next to it with which to dispense perfunctory and polite replies to your barbs. I will be elsewhere, likely at my next engagement which will doubtless be more pleasant, waiting for my body to catch up with me.

I hope things will change for us Grandma, but for now this is a sort of goodbye. I’ll just become someone you used to know.

Regards,

James

The above letter was not sent.

 Sunday 18th September

Dear Grandma,

Your letter finds me well. I have been very busy with my new job and settling in at the house. 

I’m enjoying living with my housemates, they have their flaws but they are nice people. The job also goes well enough, and I hope it will continue to lead me towards better things.

Thank you for mentioning Curtis – I really must give him a call.

I’m afraid that’s all I have for the moment. I’ll be over for Sunday dinner the week after next so will see you then.

Your grandson,

James

The above letter was posted second-class.