Chapter Text
Lars hadn’t seen his cousins before. He remembered getting a Christmas card in the mail from Uncle Holland, that was when Gus was off at college for the first time. Lars was thirteen, almost fourteen!, and lonely. He snatched the card from the mail before his father could get to it. If that were to happen Lars was certain the card would get thrown out.
He assumed that was what happened to the previous ones.
Lars smoothed his fingers over the envelope as he sat in the pink room – he loved the pink room. Gus once said it was one of their mother’s favorite rooms, so Lars spent as much time in it as he could. The script was looping, a little hard to read if he was being honest, but pretty in a strange sort of way. He wondered if Uncle Holland wrote it himself if someone else did, maybe one of the twins or Holly, or the Jackson figure that was in the picture as well.
Lars looked over the Christmas card with a heavy stone in his stomach. He wished he was in California, that he was surrounded by his cousins. Holly had a pleasant grin on her face, looking a little annoyed by her younger cousins Colt had a wide smile on his face, also plastered with a bandage – Lars wanted to hear the story behind that one. Ryland looked the most constrained out of the three children, hiding his face away slightly.
All of them were older than him, the twins only by a little bit. They were in high school while Lars was still suffering through middle school. The kids there were rather rude even though they were all from the same small town area.
Tears pricked in Lars’ eyes. He really wished he was there. Out in California, away from his father who treated him like he was the dirt underneath the man’s shoes – that was where Lars felt he would be most at home. California was a far cry from Wisconsin though. He didn’t know how many miles it was, definitely hundreds upon hundreds.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle the heat, not with all the layers Lars needed to be comfortable, but maybe they would be able to work something out. Maybe Uncle Holland and Mr. Jackson would take Lars in like they took the twins in. Life would be better then, wouldn’t it?
Lars looked up from the card, turning it over in his hand. Uncle Holland’s address was on the envelope, of course it was, that was how mail worked. There was a way to get in contact with his uncle – it was just going to be a bit difficult.
Lars huffed as he stood from his desk. He thought about what he was going to need: paper and pen for one so he could write his letter, then an envelope, and finally a stamp. He could probably find an envelope in the house, but he was less sure he’d be able to find a stamp.
He was just going to have to figure out how to get one.
***
One of Lars’ close neighbors – close was a relative term of course – took him to church on Sundays. At first, Lars didn’t really enjoy it. He didn’t like being in such a confined space with someone he didn’t know all that well, but after a while he learned he actually did like it. Church meant he got to be away from his father for a while, and that was always a good thing. His father didn’t go to church, of course he didn’t, he usually spent Sunday morning day-drinking.
Lars sat in Mrs. Gruner’s backseat, not the front seat because that was too close. He didn’t like how she sometimes tried to straighten his collar and other minute things like that. Lars rather liked having everyone’s hands far away from him.
The idea came to him when they were two turns away from the church parking lot. “Mrs. Gruner?”
“Yes, dear?” She looked back at him through her rearview mirror.
Lars’ mouth felt dry. It was always difficult to speak with others, and now it was even more difficult because he was asking for something from someone else. That always made him itchy and rather uncomfortable. “Do you have a stamp?”
Mrs. Gruner looked back again. “Are you trying to send a letter to someone, Lars?”
He gave a short nod.
Mrs. Gruner’s face softened just a bit. She probably thought he was going to send something to his brother, and maybe he should, but Lars wasn’t all too sure that Gus would actually read it. “We’ll stop by my house before I drop you off then. I’ll get a stamp for you.”
Lars gave a smile as he looked out the window. “Thank you ma’am.”
As he waited for the car ride to end, and then for church to end, he never wanted it to go faster. His brain was bouncing back and forth, trying to focus on the pastor’s teachings while also thinking about what he was going to write in his letter. The card Uncle Holland sent was just a typical Christmas card. There wasn’t even really that much writing on it. Maybe it was silly then for Lars to write something back.
What if his uncle didn’t even want to talk to him? A card wasn’t really an invitation for conversation, was it? Lars didn’t know anything about these sorts of scenarios. He clenched his hands, bitten nails digging into his skin. Lars looked between the floor, the pastor, and Mrs. Gruner next to him.
But he really wanted to talk to his uncle.
Lars didn’t know much about Uncle Holland – only that he was his dad’s brother and that he moved out to LA quite a while ago, long before Lars was before, prior to Gus as well. The rest he knew was just from the Christmas card, and that wasn’t really much to go off either. Lars took a shaky breath: he really needed to make sure he got this letter right.
***
Dear Uncle Holland,
Sorry for not writing to you before, I wasn’t sure of your address. It’s Lars by the way, your nephew. I know we haven’t spoken before, but I’d really like to get to know you more. Dad doesn’t talk about you much, and Gus didn’t either before he went to school. I don’t talk to them much either.
Lars frowned as he looked down at his writing. He didn’t know if it was all that great of an idea to talk about his family dynamic. Then again, it wasn’t as though it was guaranteed that his uncle was going to read the letter. Maybe he wouldn’t care and would just throw it out as soon as he saw it in the mail.
The thought hurt, but Lars learned to expect the worst.
I saw that Holly, Colt, and Ryland have grown up a lot. I’m not sure if I’ve met them before, maybe when I was a baby. Maybe Gus would know more about them. I’d like to meet them too. I know what having an older brother is like, but not an older sister. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to talk to Holly.
What kind of things do they like? I really like…
Lars trailed off. He wasn’t all that sure what he liked at the end of the day. He liked records, and music, but his collection never got to grow because his father smashed his records a few years back. There were a couple CDs hidden in his room, things his mother used to listen to. When Lars wanted to hear them he had to make sure his father was either deeply asleep or out of the house, then, he went out to the garage and listened there.
It wasn’t the best place, but it was the only place of true solitude and quiet he had.
I like music.
That worked.
Mom had a lot of Joan Baez albums. I really like “North Country Blues”. I know it’s not her song, she sings a lot of covers, but her voice is nice and soft.
Sometimes he wondered if his mother ever sang and if she did, if it would have sounded like Joan Baez. He hoped so – the sound was so pretty.
What kind of music do you listen to? Does anyone else listen to the same thing, or are you all different? Gus listens to very different music. It’s not as quiet as Baez. What about Mr. Jackson?
Lars flinched as he wrote. Was he supposed to ask about Mr. Jackson? Certainly, he wasn’t completely off the table because the man was in the photo. Still, maybe that was one of those topics that people didn’t touch. Some of the kids at school told him that – Gus did too. Lars didn’t quite understand it.
Well, the ink of his pen had already dried. Maybe he should have used pencil after all, but that didn’t look nearly as professional, as nice, as pen did.
Lars sighed and continued on with his letter.
I’ve never seen him before. I don’t know what happened to past Christmas cards; this is the first one I’m seeing.
Lars hoped it wouldn’t be the last. He needed it not to be the last. Silently, he promised himself that he would be more vigilant with the mail in case Uncle Holland tried sending him anything, or really if any of his extended family tried to talk to him.
Part of him wondered how much of his family tried to get in contact with him before. How many of their letters went unanswered because his father got to them before Lars did? How many of their numbers were blocked so they just gave up contacting the Lindstroms?
Lars felt his eyes burn. He didn’t want to think about that kind of thing right now. He had a letter to write; he needed to focus on that.
He decided to keep the rest of the letter short. If he wrote too much then Uncle Holland was more likely to toss it – and he would need another stamp. Lars really didn’t want to ask Mrs. Gruner for another one. That would be rude.
I hope that I’m able to visit you one day. Or, maybe you can come to Wisconsin. I know it’s a lot colder here than in California, but it could be a nice change. I could give you a list of things you would need, like jackets and boots. Those are some of the most important things.
I’m not sure how I would get to California, but I would find a way. I really miss seeing everyone. It’s quiet in Wisconsin.
And not always the good quiet. Yes, there was good quiet, the kind of quiet Lars needed when everything felt like it was too much, when the world was screaming at him. But sometimes the quiet was loud too. It suffocated him until Lars was curled up in the pink room without anyone to make it less quiet.
He huffed as he truly finished his letter.
Thank you for the Christmas card. I’m going to keep it as long as I possibly can.
Definitely wouldn’t put it up, that would likely mean the demise of the letter. It would be thrown out in a heartbeat.
Send my love to Holly, Colt, and Ryland too, and Mr. Jackson – even if I don’t know much about him.
Lars signed his name, keeping the script as neat as he possibly could. His teacher told him he needed to work on his handwriting and the whole letter-writing business had been good practice. He looked down at the letter with a grin on his face.
Lars carefully folded the letter and tucked it away into the envelope. Then, he copied the address from the envelope that Uncle Holland sent him. Finally, he wrote his own address and pasted the stamp into the corner.
He wrapped his hands around the letter, making sure not to hold it too hard to crease the paper. Hopefully the letter would bring some sort of change. Lars knew he needed that more than anything.