The Writer’s Corner features poetry, essays, short stories, satire and various fiction and non-fiction from SCAD Atlanta students. To submit your own work for the Writer’s Corner, email features@scadconnector.com.
My Dearest Jason by Amanda Glover
June 5, 1963
Dear Jason,
I was so nervous before going to see that movie in the park with you tonight. I was so excited to wear my poodle swing-skirt I’d reserved specifically for our date. My stomach would always fill with butterflies whenever you invaded my mind. Seeing you with your slicked-back black hair, dark green shirt and denim vest was enough to send the swarm inside me into an uncontrollable frenzy. After the movie ended and we decided to walk around the park, I’d realized how long I’d been out. Apparently, we’d spent two hours talking. Mama and Daddy would’ve lost their heads if I’d stayed out any longer. I was so worried you’d think I was trying to come up with an excuse to ditch you, but you understood.
We said our goodnights, and promised to see each other again. I could’ve help myself, so I went in for a hug. I could feel your thumb going back and forth on my back. I loved the feeling of my face against your neck.
I have a real good feeling about you.
— Stacia
July 4, 1963
Dear Jason,
I didn’t expect to fall in love with you so fast. I didn’t expect to ever fall in love with a Greaser. I guess that’s what folks around here expect; for our two worlds to stay separate. We are different, but that’s what makes us so special.
I wish I was brave enough to tell my parents about you. I wish they viewed things differently. They want me to be with a man with money, a Soc. They see Greasers as dirtbags with nothing worth contributing to society. Just because someone doesn’t have pearls around their neck or shine on their shoes means they’re any less of a person.
I loved seeing the fireworks at Chapman’s Lake with you tonight. The sparks that illuminated the sky could represent the explosion between us as we kissed. I’m going to tell Mama and Daddy about you soon. I’ll tell them how we met at Cassie’s Diner on Dance Night. You’d asked me to dance while they played The Temptations. I could feel the eyes from everyone around us, but mine were glued to yours — those large green marbles.
— Stacia
August 1, 1963
Dear Jason,
I’m sorry I waited so long to tell my parents about us. But, like I assumed, they weren’t happy. They figured out you were a Greaser when I told them you live in Jackman.
Mama forbade me from seeing you again, while Daddy just stood in the
corner shaking his head. I’d screamed in her face saying she wasn’t going to
control my love life, then stormed upstairs.
I wish that could’ve been it.
— Stacia
August 3rd, 1963
Dear Jason,
I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve fought my parent’s harder when they announced they were sending me to boarding school in Connecticut for my senior year. It was obvious why they did it: to keep us apart. I know you’re sorry you told me it would be better if we’d break up. You’re sorry you said it would be too hard to keep our relationship going if you’re a Greaser in Georgia, and I’m a Soc in Connecticut. I’m sorry I got angry and said I never wanted to see you again.
I didn’t mean it.
— Stacia
December 25, 1963
Dear Jason,
I’d gotten home five days ago for holiday break. No words could describe how devastated I was when I went to your house only to find out by your father that you’d left for South Carolina. He’d told me you needed a “fresh start.”
I’m sorry I didn’t get home quicker.
— Stacia
May 31, 1973
Dear Jason,
I love Thomas; not because he’s a Soc or comes from a wealthy family, but because he makes me happy. We’ve been married for seven years. We live in a house in New York City with our daughters, Lilly and Victoria.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still wonder what life could’ve been like if you and I had stayed together. You were my first real love. That kind of thing a person can’t just forget.
I wonder if you have.
— Stacia
April 2, 1974
My dearest Jason,
I found out what happened when I’d picked up the newspaper while Thomas, the kids and I were visiting my family in Georgia. When I read that you perished in a horrible fight between you and a group of Socs, I’d collapsed to my knees. You’d come home for a visit and ended up dead in the street.
I told Thomas about you after he saw me bawling my eyes out. He even came with me to place flowers on your grave site:
“Jason Kurt Mertaugh. Son, Friend… Husband.”
— Stacia
