Holden, Ten Years Later “Allieeeee, Allieeeee, please, don’t go, come back to me, don’t go, I’ll play with you, I promise, pleaseeeeee”. I guess it’s another one of those nights.
When are these goddam nightmares going to stop? I dream about Allie about twice a week and I have no idea why. It’s basically the same dream every single time, and quite honestly it’s becoming a true pain. We are both on this vomity looking colored boat, and Allie jumps into the waters and as he is being enveloped by the tides, I just scream “Allieeeee, Allieeeee, please, don’t go, come back to me, don’t go, I’ll play with you, I promise, pleaseeeeee”.Like screaming is going to do any good. I can never bring myself to actually jumping in those cold waters and pulling my brother from the fierce grip that is taking him away from me.
I can’t believe how cold hearted I can be sometimes. I mean I loved him and all, and I really want him back, but, I don’t know. I really don’t know anything anymore. Once you have failed in as many aspects of life as I have, you’d understand.
I mean, I can imagine myself walking into a pub and going up to this beautiful 26 year old woman named Barbara or some other intellectual name, who probably graduated from college with a 4. GPA, went to Africa or India to help the poor, and now is working on a cure for canc...
er. She’d be reading a very heartfelt letter written to her by one of the people she helped, and I’d go there and say something stupid like “Hey there, my name is Holden Caulfield, I’m a 26 year old college drop out, who barely finished high school, I work part time as a lifeguard and part time as a fire fighter, I live alone in a 400 square foot apartment, I’ve been to a mental rest homes and by the way I’m a great lover”, and all this time she’d be looking at me with complete disgust, trying to avoid me.You know, and say something like, “Listen, you seem like a really nice guy but I’m sort of going out with somebody else.
That just kills me. These phony girls would rather have you lie to them and say you’re a goddam lawyer, with 100,000 dollars in your bank than a hardworking lifeguard and firefighter who save lives everyday, such as me. The goddam movies. They ruin you. I’m not kidding. I usually get out of bed, smoke a few cigarettes, and just think of how I got to this point.
Sometimes I think of the times I had in New York and even hough it was about ten years ago, everything is still fresh in my head. Believe it or not, I still got old Jane Gallagher on my mind again, and once in a while I give her a buzz and chew some fat with her. Not in the middle of the night, of course but when I get home from work. It takes me about an hour to go
back to bed and wake up to another miserable routine. However, on this particular night, I simply sat there and stared at the letter addressed to me by old Jane Gallagher’s mother. To tell you the truth, for some reason I was really scared to open the letter.
I’m a real mad man sometimes. There was something that kept telling me to not open the letter. Why did her mom send the letter? Why a letter? Why not a phone call? But nonetheless I opened the letter. I thought if I read it out loud it would make it easier to read, like someone else was listening, like I was not alone, as though the walls were my friends.
I can almost picture them caressing me, and being one with me, trying to satisfy my need for a companion. It read: Dear Holden Caulfield,I regret to tell you that Jane Gallagher has committed suicide due to her inability to cope with the death of her youngest child, Arthur Gallagher. Jane always felt that she was responsible for the death of her son, and at last, her guilty conscience was too much for her to deal with. I am sending this letter along with my deepest regards and hope that you can make it to the funeral on Friday, March 3 at the Dardanian Graveyard. Mrs.
Gallagher I couldn’t believe it. You could tell that the letter was copy printed 300 times and each person got the same exact letter, and all they did was change the name on top.Like when you send a letter to a big goddam hotshot, and you take 4 hours writing the letter and trying to impress them with big words, and then you wait 2 months only to get a letter that says some bullshit like ” Thank you for the letter. It’s young people like you who can make a difference”. And then at the bottom it’s the person’s signature that was actually a stamp.
I was much closer to Jane Gallagher than all these other people who got the same letter. I deserve a sincere letter that was written to me because I knew old Jane. No one else knew her the way I did.I bet not even her husband knows her better, whoever he may be. Jane always kept that away from me.
And then all of a sudden while I was thinking about all this stuff, I realized that Jane was dead. SHE WAS ACTUALLY DEAD. There I was worried about the type of letter sent to me, but Jane was dead. I’m a mad man. I really am.
Why hadn’t she told me about her son’s death? Why did she keep so much away from me? I could have helped her. Couldn’t of I? Then I just began to cry, and I think I cried for about 1 hour before I realized that it was three a clock in the morning and had a long day ahead.Tomorrow I would have to go and pay my regards. As I went to bed I started to imagine what it would be like if
- Old Age
- Child Development
- Decision Making
- Foster Care
- Common sense
- Growing Up
- Child Observation
- Childhood Memories
- Arnold Rothstein
- Capital Punishment
- Crime Prevention
- Criminal Justice
- Criminal Law
- Drug Trafficking
- Juvenile Delinquency
- Organized Crime
- Personal Offense
- Property Crime
- Serial Killer
- Sexual Offence
- Crime scene
- Computer crime
- Charles Manson