Throwback Thursday: ‘We Come Back Different’ by AJ Odasso

My dearest Tess,

In spite of the disagreeable circumstances under which we last parted, I hope that this letter finds you well. 

It will cheer you to know that your father’s health is much improved since you left for Scotland this spring. He delights in your single-minded love of study, and  his desire is that you should make as fine a scholar as your mother. But I must caution you, my love, to remember that there are pleasures in this world that do not concern anatomy, chemistry, or engineering. My ever-troublesome charge — Trevor is growing! — has found an expedient use for your old laboratory goggles. Your brother has taken to packing them for our jaunts to Horseshoe Bay. He has mastered the art of holding his breath underwater, during which time he is content, from behind glass through which you once squinted at dissections, to observe parrot fish the size of soup tureens.

Regarding our falling-out, I am not inclined to continue in such unseemly avoidance — for you have said that what you admire most is my forthrightness, and I hope I have not been foolish in treasuring your honesty. Do not take your wealth for granted: had my mother been rich, she would have wished for me an education as fine as yours. I understand that the completion of your degree is essential; I want nothing more than for you to perfect your skill in the sciences. All I ask in return is that you do not write off my fancies, for poetry and politics are equal to the task of improving humankind. 

Furthermore, I remain steadfast in my opinion that you have done poorly by Trevor. His musical talent continues to flourish, and although you set little stock by the performance he had so carefully prepared for your departure, he believes firmly that you are the cleverest, kindest creature ever to walk the earth. Write to him, Tess. He misses you.

For my part, I pass endless days in pursuit of Trevor and in seeing to your father’s welfare. Although he is more sanguine than you will remember, his memory declines. For each time that he recognizes me, he supposes me to be your mother at least twice. I cannot persist in this sad affair without reassurance of your support — surely you may find the time to write more than once a month, so that my spirits might be lifted! I can take only so much solace in Trevor’s compositions and in discovering which of your father’s favourite strays has lately hidden her kittens amidst the banana trees and knee-high weeds in the garden. Artemis has dropped her first litter.

This corner of the world is monotonous, my darling. Be brilliant, and be well.