Letters
Written December, 1998
by Kat Lai
May 4Mona,
Dearest! How are you doing? I certainly hope that the warm, breezy Paris air is doing you a whole world of good! You were just terrible when you left! Whatever was the matter, dearest? I've have wondered again and again, and still the answers just won't come. Won't you dispel the mystery? I'm positively baffled over the change in you the last few weeks before you left!
I remember the party at Gertrude Myers the Sunday two weeks before your rather hasty departure. You just broke down and cried for no apparent reason! Just sat and cried hysterically you did. Nobody knew what to do with you, dearest, and everybody crowding around you like a whole swarm of flies. I remember telling Marcy Phelps that I couldn't imagine what could make you despair so, and that people ought to leave one alone when they are having hysteric fits. In fact, Gertrude and I sent everybody away and tried to console you ourselves. But you wouldn't tell us a thing, darling! Or couldn't perhaps. You started to hiccup like nothing I've ever seen before and your face was all red, swollen and blotchy. Honestly, I've never seen a ghastlier sight! Anyway, we put you to bed in the spare bedroom, and made sure you weren't disturbed one little bit until you woke. Then we gave you lunch and read to you the entire time. Remember what good nurses we were, darling? And yet, you wouldn't tell us what caused the outburst. You just sat there with your face to the wall all the time we were there.
I talked to your sister after you left. (Dearest, you didn't even say good-bye! Not even a trace of a hint that you were leaving. Whatever possessed you?) She said (quite shortly, I thought) that you had been like this all month! She couldn't tell what was wrong either. Or wouldn't. She just avoided the question and said you needed a holiday. She wouldn't give me your address either, the mean thing. I only was able to get it a few weeks later from Edie Jarman. She said she had gotten it from you when you wrote to her last week. Darling! Can you imagine how incredibly surprised I was? I'm hurt. I'm in little bits! I couldn't believe for a moment that you could have written to Edie Jarman first and not me, who have been your closest, oldest, dearest friend since we were born! Why, dearest, why?
I simply must fly now. Please write me a line or two when you have a moment.
Your ever affectionate
Carmen
May 30
Dearest Mona,
It's now been two weeks since I last wrote you, and I must say I am quite hurt. I haven't heard a word from you, dearest. I guess you must be very busy, what with all the wonderful sights to see and things you can buy in Paris. I know this is the right address because Edie got a reply last month from you from the very same address. I suppose that my reply must be very lengthy and that you haven't finished it yet. What other reason can there be?
Well, I'll await your reply with everlasting patience. You know I am good at that don't you, dearest? Remember when we used to wait for phone calls from Terry Matheson? You always paced the floor, muttering about the time it took, but I would sit quietly beside you and talked brightly or did my needlework. And he always did call, didn't he? And you always worrying that he wouldn't after the first hour. But he always did!
Speaking of Terry Matheson, did you know that he apparently has his eye on someone new? I was positively floored when I found out! Honestly! You could have knocked me over with a feather. I'm striving hard to find out who as yet, but I will let you know. You do, after all, have a vested interest, don't you, darling?
Well, simply must fly. I want to catch the post before it goes.
Your ever affectionate
Carmen
June 8
Mona dearest,
Whatever can have happened to your reply? It's been another week, and I still have not heard from you. I know you must have sent it already because Edie Jarman just received another letter from you this morning. I suppose it must have gotten lost in the mail. These darn overseas postal systems are such an inconvenience, aren't they?
Anyway, Edie told me you were doing fine and that you think Paris is lovely this time of year. She even hinted at a small rencontre with a young French gentleman. I think they are wonderful, don't you, dearest? So polite and debonair. They positively make our young American counterparts look downright juvenile and unsophisticated!
Speaking of our American boys, I simply cannot fathom whom Terry Matheson could have his eye on. And I still cannot imagine this happening either. I was so sure that you and he would be married eventually. But then in the last few weeks before you left, I hardly saw head or tail of him at all when you were around. And whenever I did see him, he was always with the boys or by himself. I remember seeing him sitting on a park bench by himself in June and he was all alone. I went over to say hello, naturally and inquired where you were. Can you imagine? He said he honestly didn't know nor did he care! I was floored. Honestly I was, dearest. That he could forget you so quickly! And after all you had been through together too. Anyway, we sat and talked for a great long time, but no matter how I hinted and prodded, he would not tell me what had happened between you two. It was shortly before that you started avoiding people and public, I think. Oh, dearest! Was it because of this terrible unexplained breakup that you started having your hysterical fits and such? I hope not! It is such a little thing after all. And Terry is only one boy in many. He isn't worth all those tears, darling. Believe me when I say that!
Whyever did you and Terry fall out, though, dearest? Can you possibly explain to me? I am sitting here waiting so patiently for your letter as once I waited patiently with you for Ter -- er, You-Know-Who -- to call.
Your ever affectionate
Carmen
July 4
Dearest,
I must admit even my patience begins to wane after two whole months without hearing a single word from you. What could possibly have happened to your replies, darling? Oh, I positively hate the postal system! Perhaps you haven't received my letters at all? But that can't be, can it, darling? There's no reason why Edie Jarman's letters get through every time and mine always get lost. As it is, I must get all the news of you from Edie now, and that is positively hateful. Imagine having to get news of your dearest, closest friend from someone like Edie Jarman! We hardly ever talked to her, remember? And now, I must get all your news from her! It's downright hateful, that's all it is.
Anyway, I hear that you are doing fine as always. You've been to see the Louvre, and that the young French gentleman has taken you to dinner and the theatre on numerous occasions. That's positively wonderful, darling! I am so happy for you! Is French theatre hard to understand, though? We had a terrible time in French class, didn't we? Still, I suppose when you meet a young French gentleman, you work doubly hard at your French and learn even more than before, right?
I must admit that my life is not quite as exciting. I did bump into Terry Matheson yesterday. We talked about this and that for a while, then I worked the conversation around to you. He said that he had known about your hysteric fits before you left, but hadn't known you had gone to Paris. I think it was positively mean, don't you? I was properly angry for you. Well, I certainly gave him a piece of my mind for knowing how broken up you were and not going to see you once, nor even sending flowers. Honestly! He took it quite well, and even had the grace to bow his head in shame. He was quite speechless, so I left him like that. I'm sure he has something to think about for a while.
.....Can you imagine who just phoned, dearest? Terry Matheson! And just while I was talking about him too! Quite a coincidence, don't you think? Well, anyway, I told him I was writing to you, and asked if he had anything to say to you. He said to tell you hello from him, so here it is: Hello! From Terry. He also said that he felt like a heel for not sending you anything nor seeing how you were while you were having your "case," and he wished to apologize. I thought that very noble of him, don't you think?
Anyway, I simply must fly. Terry reminded me that Hanna Gershwin is holding a party tonight, and I must get ready. Terry offered to accompany me there. Wasn't that nice of him?
Your ever affectionate, but very hassled
Carmen
July 5
Mona, darling!
I felt I simply must write you, dearest. I'm positively crushed. I spent all night crying after the party last night. I simply couldn't believe some of the things that I heard!
I walked in last night with Terry Matheson, and everyone just turned and stared as if we were martians or had six heads or something. I thought nothing of it at first, but then something simply horrible happened. I had been talking to Emmet Willoughs, when I felt like getting a drink. I went to the drinks table, and (would you believe it?) my new earring fell off its clasp and thudded on the floor. (I simply must complain to the store about it. How absolutely cheap it was!) Anyhow, I was on the floor searching for it, when Edie Jarman, Hanna Gershwin and Farina Botswell came up on the other side of the drinks table and just stood there talking. I heard Farina say that wasn't it perfectly horrible the way I had strutted in with Terry Matheson as if it was something to show off. I knelt there, rooted! I was so shocked! Hanna said that I ought to be ashamed of myself considering how you felt about him. Edie then remarked how awful I was, and after all the things I said about being your dearest, closest friend and all. Dearest friend! Huh! If I was your dearest friend, Hanna didn't want to know what your enemies were like! Then, I heard that horrible Edie say that she had been charitable (what an awful word coming from that fat mouth of hers) enough to doubt what you had said about me but now, well! She supposed you were right after all!! Then she said something about thieves in the night, and those awful spitfire hellcats strutted off again.
What does that mean, dearest? I only went with Terry Matheson because I didn't have a ride to the party otherwise.
That positively broke me down, dearest! I felt like having a fit like you did at Gertrude Myers' before you left. But it didn't end there. I found out that everyone knew you were going to Paris to recover from your "case," and that you'd had a good-bye party the night before you left. How could I have not been invited, dearest? How is it that I never heard this until tonight? Aren't I your closest friend, darling? I must admit that I feel very hurt by this. Perhaps you could explain? From the way Edie was strutting around last night, giving me cold stares and telling everybody about you -- some of which I hadn't heard, nor dreamed possible -- I guess that you tell Edie everything. I'm crushed, dearest, I really am. We hated Edie, remember? And now, here you are in Paris and telling everything to her, and ignoring your dearest and closest friend. What has happened, dearest? Have I done something so horribly, incredibly wrong? She even tossed her head at me in that dreadful, hateful way and pronounced quite loudly to me that you did not wish me to write you anymore! Can you imagine how I felt at that moment? It isn't true, is it, dearest? I'm crushed. I'm in little bits. Honestly, I am. I almost broke down right then and there, but I held up as best as I could. I simply told Terry that I was not feeling very well, and that I was going home. He offered to drive me, but I declined. He was having a good time, even if I wasn't and I didn't want to tear him away. I went to the door, and must have fainted. Next I remembered is I was sitting on the floor, with all these people around me. Emmet Willoughs ended up having to carry me out and drive me home. But he didn't get me out quick enough. Just as we left, I heard Edie remark -- quite leeringly, I thought -- that I was just bidding for attention, and wasn't it shameful that some girls felt they had to resort to that. I could have throttled her if I didn't feel so weak! I admit that I did not like Edie Jarman before, but now, I positively hate her.
Terry and Emmet called this morning to see how I was, but no one else seems to care. Terry said that Edie and Hanna said some positively hateful things about me after I left with Emmet. I don't expect that I will be going to any more parties for a while. Oh, Mona, darling! Couldn't you please write me and tell me what's going on? I honestly do not understand at all.
Yours in agony and tears
Carmen
July 20
Dear Miss Mona Carleton,
I can see plainly from your father's letter that you do not wish for me to contact you further for unexplained and unexplainable reasons. I gather that you feel I only know too well, though I assure you of the opposite. If you feel I brought malice on you at any time for any reason, I assure you that I did not wish any harm to befall you. So I can only say that any hurt you may have felt was entirely unintentional, and I beg you to pardon me.
I wish you good health and a good life in Paris, and in your new residence to which you are moving. Congratulations on the birth of your new daughter. I am sure she will know great happiness with such a kind, and beautiful mother.
Before I sign off, I must inform you that I have stopped all contact with Terry Matheson. He is the very worst of men. According to Edie Jarman, you already knew whom his eye was set upon. I apologize that I did not see this sooner, but I honestly had no idea of what had occurred. Despite the convictions of everyone around you, I did not orchestrate this, I must assure you.
Good-bye.
Yours sincerely,
Miss Carmen G. Whittaker
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