Love Letters Page #3

It's not great, and you know it.

But it's close to New York.

I can take drawing at the Art

Institute three days a week.

And in two years, if I stick it out...

...Mummy's promised

I can go live in Florence.

Congratulations

on your scholarship to Yale.

I see you're still with all boys.

Dear Melissa:

Would you come to the Yale-Harvard

game Saturday, November 1 6th?

I'll be there. Plan to drive up stark

naked and flash everyone in sight.

Hey, handsome!

You look like fun.

Hop in.

Duty calls, guys.

-Since when the car?

-Since Granny died.

She left me tons of dough.

Now kiss me.

Where's Bob Bartram?

-Where's Gretchen Lascelles?

-History.

Ancient history.

Where to?

-Got a choice.

-Good. I'm very choosy.

Okay. I made a reservation

at the Taft Hotel, which is very nice.

And loaded with parents

milling in the lobby...

...eyeing those who go up

in the elevator.

That's the problem.

-What's my other choice?

-The Danton...

...but it's a pretty seedy joint.

Make it the Danton.

Melissa has chosen.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Perfect.

Wait.

What about the game?

What game?

The football game.

Which is what you came for.

Is that what I came for?

Why don't you ditch that guy

and come with me.

Couldn't possibly.

-You going with him?

-All my life.

-Maybe it's time to trade him in.

-Why?

I haven't taken him out

on the highway yet.

You mean, you and him

haven't even...?

Not yet.

-Then why are you smiling?

-Because tonight's the night.

-I almost forgot.

-What?

This.

And...

...this is for you.

Put it on while I go change.

I figure, after all these years,

we should fly first class.

At the Danton?

I believe in strong contrasts.

Here begins a new chapter

in an old story.

Maybe I had too much booze.

Maybe I did.

Maybe...

...there were too many other people

in this room.

Other people?

Here?

It seemed my father was here.

And your mother and grandmother,

even your nanny, Miss Hawthorne...

...all standing around the bed...

...shaking their heads

or egging us on.

I think the trouble was letters.

Letters?

We know each other more by mail

than we do in person.

Those darn letters messed us up.

-You think?

-I really do.

And I plan to do something about it.

So do I.

Melissa?

Melissa?

I checked with the doctor,

and he said these things happen...

...especially when there's

pressure involved.

It didn't happen with Gretchen.

You can ask her if you want.

Forget Gretchen. Forget the doctor.

I've got the solution.

Wait, I can't hear you. Wait.

Guys, guys!

I've got the solution.

Namely this.

This telephone. I've had a private line

put in my room.

-You get one too.

-I can't afford that.

-I'll pay for it, then.

-Melissa--

Don't argue. Send me the bill.

We'll get to know each other in life,

not just on paper.

I've gotta keep writing.

A telephone call is dead as soon as

it's over, but a letter can last forever.

It's a special present of myself...

...and you can keep me and read me

any time you want until you die.

Hello.

Who is this?

Right!

You're that wild man from Amherst.

Sure. Count me in.

You telephone, and I'll write letters.

Now...

...come back to Yale next weekend,

and I promise...

...I'll put down my pen...

...and I'll give you a better time.

Dear Andy, guess what.

While I was reading your letter,

Darwin called from Amherst...

...and asked me up there.

-Drive one out here!

-So I said yes...

...before I got to the part

where you asked me.

-Nice try, Andy!

-Way to go.

-Lose your best friend?

-How'd you guess?

Sorry, sweetheart.

Looks Iike the telephone wins

in the end.

Hey! Look where I am.

Florence.

I mean, Firenze.

-I love it!

-What are you doing in Florence?

What am I doing? Painting.

-Among other things.

-Good luck on the painting.

Go slow on the other things.

Merry Christmas.

Happy birthday.

Mother wrote you won an art prize

in Perugia, said it was a big deal.

Congratulations.

Heard you graduated summa

cum laude, with all sorts of prizes.

Sounds disgusting.

Merry Christmas

from the Land of Oz.

Feliz Navidad

from the Costa del Sol.

And Harvard Law School?

How come?

Getting all stuffy and self-important?

As you know,

I have always liked writing letters.

Now I'll be writing laws,

which are, after all...

...the letters that civilization

writes to itself.

Yes, you are getting all stuffy

and self-important.

Decided to put off law school...

...until I've fulfilled

my military responsibilities.

Dear Second Lieutenant Andy Ladd:

It's a stupid war!

And you are stupid...

...to give up your student deferment,

and I am stupid to care.

Dear Melissa:

Here I am again, writing letters...

...this time for the Army in Saigon.

They go like this.

Dear Mr., Mrs., Miss--

Insert name of recipient.

I'm writing on behalf of--

Insert names of responsible officers.

Who extend their sympathies

to you...

...for the loss of your

son, husband, father, brother.

You should know that--

Insert first name or nickname of...

...deceased, if possible.

Was a good friend to us all

and to the cause of democracy.

Sincerely....

P.S.

I'm beginning to hate

writing letters.

I'm glad you've finally discovered

the limitations of letters.

Now take care of yourself...

...and concentrate on your life.

Dear Melissa:

Sorry I haven't written lately.

I've been...

...extremely busy.

Busy, my eye.

Rumor has it you've hooked up with

some Vietnamese bargirl out there.

Say it isn't so.

Dear Andy,

are you getting my letters?

Mother wrote you're living with some

exotic Cambodian concubine.

Your family's all upset.

Is that true?

Did you get my letter?

You're so far away, and your

Army address is so peculiar...

...I'm not sure I'm reaching you.

I hear you're seriously involved

with a lovely Asian lady.

Would you tell me about her?

Merry Christmas

and happy New Year.

You might appreciate this card.

It's a print by the 19th century

Japanese artist Hiroshige.

It's called Two Lovers Meeting

on a Bridge in the Rain.

Hey, you sly dog.

Are you getting subtle

in your old age?

Are you trying to tell me something?

If so, tell me more.

I told my psychiatrist

I felt terribly jealous.

He said American men

have to get involved...

...with a dark-skinned woman

before they connect...

...with the gorgeous blond

goddesses they really love.

Did you get my last letter?

I hope it didn't sound too flip.

I've actually just become involved

with someone myself.

You remember that guy

from Amherst, Darwin?

He now works on Wall Street, where

he believes in survival of the fittest.

P.S. I'd love to hear from you.

Your mother told my mother you've

decided to marry Madame Butterfly...

...and bring her home.

Oh, no.

Gasp, sob, sigh.

Say it isn't so.

I've decided to marry Darwin.

He doesn't know it yet, but he will.

Won't you at least wish me luck?

Second Lieutenant

Andrew M. Ladd III regrets...

...that he is unable

to accept the kind invitation.

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