Page 16 of Signed, SEALed, Delivered

From: Michaels, Zach. LT

CC:

Subject: Re: Thank You

Dear Kennedy,

I hope this letter finds you in better spirits after the crushing news I had the misfortune of rehashing. I feel terrible for introducing myself with such a bitter pill, but felt it must be done. If we are to continue to correspond, and I sincerely hope we do, I ask you to please call me Zach, as my team refers to me as Lieutenant. Since you shared a little about yourself, I feel the need to be honest with you.

I noticed your address is Atlanta, Georgia. My family resides in Atlanta, so we're neighbors. You say your father is a lawyer and desires your brother to join his firm? This is something I can relate to. My father is the Chief of Staff at Emory University Hospital. He has made his desire for me to follow in his footsteps quite clear. However, unlike your father, mine is proud of the career choice I made. Perhaps Jason would be surprised by your father's reaction, if he told him what he truly wanted. I must say, Kennedy, your loyalty to your brother is commendable, and yet it had me pondering dozens of job choices ranging from a security guard to a drag queen. Hey, if he does want to be a drag queen...I don't judge either.

My mother is a lot like yours; she's a member of a number of boards. Although she doesn't play bridge, she's got a great poker face. She holds a monthly book club supposedly discussing classic literature, but my father says it’s an excuse to drink moonshine and gossip.

My parents have been happily married for over twenty-five years. I pray someday I will find a girl who will complete me as much as my parents do each other. There, I answered a question you didn't really ask me. I have no wife, no girlfriend or boyfriend. I would like to explore that one-day, but I know with me being here it makes it difficult to date. It's one thing for someone to say they will wait for you, it's entirely another for them to actually do it. So for now, I remain single.

Let's see, what can I tell you about me, the regular guy and not the SEAL? And yes, they are different people. I'm twenty-five...speaking of age, I'm assuming you are older than eighteen? Otherwise this Greyson woman has more legal trouble than she can handle.

I love music, most every genre, but my appreciation for rap is limited. I'm just your average guy: tall, brown hair and brown eyes. When I'm back in Atlanta, I live with my parents. Sounds pretty lame, huh? Once I joined the military, I had my housing taken care of, no reason to have a house I would never be in.

I was around seven when I began to scribble on the corners of discarded envelopes and leftover take out napkins. My mother caught on to my talent and purchased me a case of sketchpads. My drawings have become more and more detailed as I’ve grown older. When I was fifteen, my brother and I went to a state football championship game. While we were stopped at a roadside diner, I noticed next to it was this little tattoo shop. Our friends dared me and Zane to go inside. We knew we couldn't actually get a tattoo, but from the moment I stepped inside, I knew what I wanted to do.

When I get out of the military, I want to open my own tattoo shop, placing my drawings forever on the skin of people and have my art travel around the world. I wanted to put my business degree to good use by opening my own shop, however my brother and I are so competitive, when he was drafted by the Falcons his senior year of college, I spouted off I was going to become a SEAL. Zane laughed at me and said I wouldn't make it past day one of Hell Week. Since I'm writing you from Afghanistan, and you've seen my Special Ops email address, we know who came out on top. I've seen some amazing things and some horrific things, but I wouldn't trade those experiences for anything.

Now, let me ask you, what do you want to be when you grow up? A ballerina? A construction worker? The possibilities are endless, don't let your fear of what your parents will think cloud your dreams, unless you want to be a drug dealer.

My sister, Savannah, is the baby of the family. She's pretty, and not because her older brother is saying this, she really is. She's one of those people who have so much happiness it seems to pour out of her. She surrounds herself with positive people and brings such joy to those around her. If I could change one thing about her, she falls in, what she calls, "love" far too easily. She’s laid her heart on the line time and time again only to get it broken. I envy her in a way. She's at least willing to put herself out there. Most people, myself included, have run away from the L word.

My brother is married to a wonderful woman, Meghan. They are polar opposites, but it works for them. Where he is muscular and athletic, as the former defensive end for an NFL team should be, she is a klutz. The girl can trip over air. While he's considered a heartthrob, according to People Magazine, she's the poster child for the girl next door. It took over a year for her to agree to let him take her for a cup of coffee. She worked in the library and he had a term paper due, but the book he needed was checked out at the one by our house. He walked in, and there she was, with her hair in braided pigtails and clothes two sizes too big. He said she had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He went back every day to ask her out and time after time, she turned him down. He went in this one particular afternoon when she was supposed to be working to find she was home sick. The guy, who was working for her, told my brother if he was playing some sick twisted game with Meghan, he would kick the shit out of him. He also told Zane, Meghan was always turning him down because she didn't understand why he was even giving her a second glance. Once my brother told his side of the story, the guy—who walked Meghan down the aisle—helped get Meghan to say yes to him.

When Zane was drafted, she broke up with him, worried he would cheat on her with a cheerleader or overzealous fan. When my brother came home that night, he sat in our kitchen and cried. After several weeks of Zane sending flowers and letters, he was out of ideas on how to get her back. Savannah suggested having the people Meghan feared the most talk to her. Taking her advice, Zane loaded up as many cheerleaders as he could find and went to the library where Meghan worked. After she was told what a perfect gentlemen Zane was and how he talked so much about this girl he was in love with, they knew he was off limits. Meghan took him back the next week. Right before he was injured, he proposed to her during halftime on national TV. Now they have three children, whom I never get to see, but am going to spoil rotten when I get back. Zane is now the defensive coach for the Falcons and says he loves his job more than when he played.

So, tell me the truth, were there really no sparks between you and Mr. Hawthorne? Come on, I know how those older men can be, throwing money at pretty young girls, making you feel like a million bucks. Just be careful, Kennedy, make sure your dad checks him out good, make sure he isn't hiding dead bodies in the trunk of his car.

I think by the sheer size of this email, I'm the rambler now. I did enjoy hearing about your family and I hope you enjoyed hearing about mine. I have a meeting I have to attend in a few minutes, but I look forward to hearing from you again.

Sincerely

Zach

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