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Hi Roberto,
Or Robérto if that’s what you prefer. I got your letter and I have to say I was really surprised that you wrote me back, partially because I know you rarely follow through on anything unless it involves mild-to-moderate vandalism and partially because I had no idea you had the use of your hands back. But hey, big thumbs up, now that you can do that again. Right? Right?! Those were good times.
Anyway. I had some responses to your responses and wanted to go over those but first—Robérto? That’s what you’re calling yourself now? At least when I picked “Audrey”, I went with a classic. Audrey conjures images of a doe-eyed ingenue or a man-eating plant. But Robérto? Robérto is a legendary baseball player. That’s it. But I understand why you picked the name. I do. I remember when Mom stole that baseball card for you, but if you’re going to name yourself after things our mother stole, why not call yourself Buick? Or Asian baby?
That’s not the point, you know. Whatever works for you. The thing is that I do want to be roommates. I do, if only because I know that way you can’t tamper with my medication again. I know it was you. I’ve got the fingerprints—and not just those! But I’ll get back to that.
You expressed some concern that I’ve been calling it a “home”. Well I just think that’s nicer than “an institution”. A home has kind of warm connotations and stirs up these fuzzy memories. An institution makes you think you’re going to have your butt cheeks pried apart as they look for contraband. Potato, potahto. I’m calling it a home.
It’s just that we never had a home, you know? There was that one summer that it was you and me and Momma and Poppa and Buster…and now three of them are dead. And I’ve gotta tell you, it’s the wrong three. Or maybe just the wrong one, because I would trade you for Buster in a heartbeat. That’s probably the way Yoko Ono feels about Ringo.
Oh, hey, can you bring your Beatles albums when you come next month? Wait, no, you can’t because they were part of the fire I started in your trunk after I found out that you told Wally EVERYTHING. Jesus, Robérto, you have one box of wine—ONE BOX—and you just turn into a regular Joy Behar, don’t you? Just spilling everything. Thanks for that, it made for a really awkward conversation.
BUT I’ll have you know that I did get a lawyer and I did send the fingerprints off. I got the results back. I also got three seasons of Law & Order because you want to know who my lawyer is? It’s me. I’m representing myself and you, Robérto, are going down faster than the lid on your precious toilet seat. You got that? I mean that in the nicest possible way.
So I think that’s it. I’ll see you next month. I’ll bring the chestnuts, you bring the crazy. I know you know how to find that.
See you soon…roommate.
Audrey
