The Last Letter
Andrew got the call at two A.M. As he fumbled for his phone, he cursed under his breath and hoped the ringing didn’t wake any of his roommates. He knew who it was even before the cocky voice came over the line.
“Hey, Andy, don’t be mad, alright?”
Andrew threw his legs over the side of his very comfortable bed. “Where are you Cameron? I’ll come get you.”
Cameron. His older brother by four years and a high school dropout. He lived and worked a few towns away as a bartender for a seedy establishment that Andrew didn’t visit unless he had to.
Cameron laughed, but there was something wrong with the way he gasped at the end, like he was in pain.
“Like I said, don’t be mad,” the elder Colt repeated. “I had to lock up tonight by myself, and then I started walking home. I ran into these guys along the way, and, well...,” he trailed off.
Andrew pulled on his sneakers, cradling the phone with his shoulder. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll get you.” He was used to this routine. Cameron always found some way to get into trouble (or maybe trouble just found him). Ever since Iran, he hadn’t been the same, but Andrew couldn’t blame him for that, and he’d been proud when Cam told him he finally got his G.E.D. Andrew was proud of his older brother, and loved him more than anything. Ever since their parents had died in a car crash when Andrew was fifteen, they had no one else and had to depend on each other for everything.
So when Cameron called a few times a month, drunk, beaten up, or a combination of the two, of course Andrew left his off-campus apartment and picked him up, made sure he was alright, and usually stayed the night before driving back to the university.
“Don’t think that’ll help this time,” he could hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “I got stabbed Andy. Christ, I didn’t even see the knife, but they wanted my money, and I told them to go to Hell.” Cam cleared his throat. “I just, I wanted to talk to you...people do this, right? One last phone call?”
Andrew’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “What are you talking about?” The little brother stood and began to pace. “You idiot! Call 911!”
Cameron took a deep breath, like he did before he was going to explain something to Andrew. “It won’t do any good Andy. I know where the guy hit me. I’m gonna be gone long before you or anyone else can get to me. I just, I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Cam, just, just hold on OK? You’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna--”
“Shut up, Andrew.” It was in that tone; that same tone Andy was sure his brother used when commanding his fellow soldiers. “I’m not gonna make it, man. I know it, alright? And it’s...it’s OK. I just wanted to tell you something.”
“What?” he prompted the dying man. “What Cameron?”
“I kept them,” Cas stated without preamble. “Every letter you wrote to me when I was over there. I kept them all.”
Andrew’s throat began to close. He could barely get his next words out. “I did, too.”
“The guys used to laugh at me. I used to keep your newest letter on me until the next one. I’d fold it up and put it in my shirt, and read it over and over.” Cam chuckled weakly over the line. “Very chick-flick, huh?”
Andy shook his head, and then remembered his brother couldn’t see him. “No, it’s not. I used to carry yours around in a binder.”
“I’m glad we still did it, you know, after I came back. It was nice to hear about what you’re doing.”
“Yeah.” Andrew thought about all the times he’d complained about writing the letters when Cameron was only hours away, but in the end, they both loved the letters. It was something special. Something just for them.
Andrew looked out the window. The moonlight glistened off the snow like a poet’s prose. It looked pretty. This wasn’t the night his brother should be dying; not in the cold snow, not with the moon so bright. Tears fell down his cheeks, warm against his cold skin.
“I’m gonna miss you, man,” the little brother whispered into the receiver.
“I’ll be around. Got nowhere better to be. I’ve always looked after you haven’t I?” Cam sounded tired, so tired.
“Yeah,” Andrew confirmed. “Yeah, you have.”
“Listen to me, Andy. There’s a box full of your letters in the liquor cabinet at my place. I want you to take the top one and read it. It’s for you. It’s got a stamp and everything, and I wrote it in case I didn’t come back. I want you to read it, Andy. Promise me you’ll read it.” Cameron’s voice was faint, but the stern, big brother tone was still evident.
Like a good little brother, Andrew replied, “I promise, Cam. I will.”
“Good,” Cameron sounded relaxed, not like he was dying, but like he was falling asleep. Maybe it was because Andrew’s promise put him at ease.
“Are you cold?” the college student asked his dying brother.
“No, Andy, I’m not. In fact, I feel really warm,” Andrew could practically hear the shrug. “‘S weird right?”
The soon to be last surviving member of the Colt family wiped his tears away and sniffed. “I love you, Cam.”
Cameron Colt’s last words were the same as the first words he spoke as he held his new baby brother in his arms, “I love you, Andy.”
...
The funeral was nice, a proper soldier’s burial. Cam’s comrades came in their uniforms, and as requested, he was buried in his formal uniform. Andrew was the last to leave. When he finally did, the first thing he did in the car was take off what Cameron had called his ‘monkey suit’ jacket and restricting tie. He chucked them into the back seat and drove to his brother’s small two story house. He didn’t turn on the radio. He turned his phone off. He didn’t curse at the other drivers or mutter. Andrew sat in silence.
He let himself into the house. No one was around to care about it anyway.
So what if his thoughts were a bit bitter? His brother had just died, in a dirty alleyway, while Andrew listened to him on the phone. Frost gathered on the windows, and the house itself was cold and desolate, as if the building was grieving like Andrew was. But that was ridiculous, buildings didn’t grieve. Buildings weren’t alive.
Neither was his brother.
Andrew was glad Cam hid the letters with the booze. The eldest Colt brother always did have good taste when it came to alcohol, and since Andrew had turned twenty-one three months ago, he no longer had to hear a lecture.
Well, not like he would have heard one anyway. The only one who would have lectured him was dead.
Andrew strode to the cabinet right away and almost broke some bottles in his haste to get to the box. He found it and teared up again when he flipped the lid to see the letter. The envelope was dirty and worn, but he had no doubt that the letter inside remained intact. He sat on the floor and stared at it before carefully opening it. His weary eyes took in his brother’s scrawl. It was almost a cross between cursive and print, written with a certain celerity that could only belong to Cameron.
…
Andy,
Yeah, I know you don’t like me calling you that, you say as much in your own letters, but you’ll always be little Andy to me. You probably won’t understand until you have kids of your own, but you’ll always be that baby Mom and Dad handed me. Dad made me promise to take care of you, and I will, always. I swear.
If you’re reading this, I’m gone. I’ve died and I’m not coming back, obviously. You can be sad, Andrew; you’re allowed to cry, but don’t grieve too long. Don’t throw your life away, everything you’ve worked so hard for, because of me. Know what you’re allowed to do, Andy? You’re allowed to drink a beer for me every once in a while, even if you’re still underage when you get this. You’re allowed to take my T-Bird and run her speedometer up, like I used to (only on deserted roads though, and if you crash my baby I’ll kill you). You can blast my music until the windows shake. You can go out, find a girl who’s good enough for you, who you know I would have liked. You’re allowed to name your kid after me if you want (be kinda cool actually). You can visit my grave and talk. But you’re not allowed to give up. I don’t care what things look like; I don’t care how bad you feel. It will get better, because it always has. We’ve relied on each other for everything Andy, but now that you’re on your own, you need to give yourself that push. You gotta do that for me, Andy, and for yourself.
I wanna say I’m sorry. I promised to never leave you, and I know you were mad when I joined the army and that you didn’t understand. You told me once you felt like I’d abandoned you. In reality, I was trying to help you. I know it sounds stupid, but everything I was earning was going to your college. I wanted you to achieve what you’d always wanted. I want to see you in a big law firm, in that huge office with your name on the door. And you will get all that, Andy. You’re smart, and you’re good, and you’ll do whatever you set your heart and mind to. Remember that, kid.
I also want you to know that I love you. When Mom and Dad died, I was terrified. I didn’t think I could raise you. I was afraid I’d mess you up. But look at you. Going to college with a bunch of scholarships, one of the top in your class...I’m proud of you Andy. I’m so proud of you. I want you to know that. If you ever remember anything else about me, just remember that you’ve always made me proud and that I love you.
Remember everything I’ve ever taught you. Don’t cry too much. And always keep that smile on your face, Andy. That smile was the only reason I got up after Mom and Dad died. I want you to know that. Be everything I know you can be. Live well. Have fun.
Remember me as your big brother, teaching you how to change the oil, not as a war hero. I was never one for that sort of thing, right?
Love ya kid,
Cam
P.S. This probably goes without saying, but you’re the only one in my will. You get everything. Treat my baby well. You deserve each other.
…
Andrew Colt held the letter close to his heart as sobs wracked his body. This would be the only time, the only time he allowed himself to really cry for his loss.
Everything after would be easier. Cam’s loss would still hurt, and would for a while, but Andy had always listened to his brother, even when they were kids. He’d listen to him now, too.
He didn’t know it then, but that letter would shape the rest of his life.