especially because you think I’m beautiful.
lunch, coffee, walks, all sound great!
I have to let you know that my hesitation is not only because I have a boyfriend, but because my boyfriend is a client here at work. Makes me a little more cautious of my actions…
am I scaring you off yet?
not my intention.
sorry for this rather problematic e-mail.
guess I should get back to this thing called producing…
maybe later I’ll stop by for a visit.
I could use a smile.
…
Anthony was absolutely addicting. I got high with every e-mail, song or chance run-in. Confession: I used the sixth floor bathroom because it was next to his office. Only a wall separated us. Pathetic, right? I was infatuated, practically obsessed. Love makes me do stupid things.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, February 22, 1:49 p.m.
Subject: for your eyes only
yes, your situation upstairs
sounds increasingly complex,
potentially problematic,
and ultimately shitty —
so come downstairs for a visit,
and we’ll close the door
on peering eyes, misperceptions,
and unnecessary explanations —
if we can’t have dinner,
can I walk you to your car tonight?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, February 22, 3:42 p.m.
Subject: Re: for your eyes only
yes, I’d like that.
It felt like junior-high meeting at our lockers. I ran down to Anthony’s office, stopped just before I could see him standing there, one foot leaning against the wall, nervously waiting. We clumsily smiled at one another.
Nerves had me chatty again as I rambled on about my current work project. He interrupted, “I like you.” Just like that. A simple sentence.
“I know you do,” thinking it was flirty banter.
“No, seriously.”
“You mean like, like?” Clearly, still in junior high mode.
He nodded.
I didn’t know how to respond.
“I didn’t mean to just throw that at you,” he said, “but I needed to say it.”
“Why?”
“Because, I like you, and… I don’t know. You standing here, talking, I just… needed to tell you, to see if you felt the same way, or if it’s something I’m creating.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say what you feel.”
I searched for words, as the muscles in my neck tensed. “Honestly, I’m confused. I’ve been in a relationship for five years and in those five years… I’ve never felt this excited to stand next to someone.” Long pause. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He smiled. “Yeah, kind of.”
“But why?” I was annoyed. I was in a relationship. He knew that. “I still have a boyfriend. Plus, you just got out of this same triangle situation, and I’m not wanting to be your new challenge.” I didn’t think. Just spoke. It was a rumor that he was in a triangle situation. I was mad, so I took a jab.
“Really, is that what you think this is to me? A challenge?”
“I don’t know.” I knew that sentence would piss him off.
“I wasn’t expecting these feelings, but here they are, and I just needed you to know. Since the moment I saw you, I’ve had a crush on you.”
“And I have one on you. Now what?”
“I don’t know.” He lingered. “My guess is you drive home?”
I was angry. At what, I don’t even know. Maybe mad at myself for feeling those things. Guilty for telling him those things. I just stood there, quiet. I didn’t know what to say. Nor did he. Two adults with junior high crushes. I thought it couldn’t get more awkward until he smiled devilishly.
“Or we could drive to Mexico and elope?”
That damn smile got me every time. Every. Single. Time.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, February 22, 11:08 p.m.
Subject: music for your daddy
11 p.m., and i just got home.
(have a feeling my drive and your drive were very similar.)
replaying our moments again,
wondering why i was so retarded —
and thinking that if we were seventh graders in the hallway,
we must have regressed a few years
as we stood by your car —
i wonder if your dad’s music has answers
for all the questions we have now…
“the goose” has a special place in my heart,
and a story that i will tell you one day
(along with all the rest of the stories).
but this song, is one that goes way back (yonder)
and one that i could hear
when you told me about your daddy,
the backwoods, and the bass.
i hope you come to see me again,
even though our project is finished,
finding time between your schedule and mine
to sit in my office and share a smile at least —
and i hope we start to find our way
toward that rare level of comfort and understanding
that i know we are capable of…
do you think I can walk you to your car again?
"Lovely Day"
Bill Withers
chapter four
ghost of things to come
Twenty-something love is absurd. That rush and fluster over little things, like why he hadn’t e-mailed that day. Why I hadn’t heard from him all afternoon. Girls are simple: We just need a text or an e-mail or a phone call, a little something to remind us that the people we love are out there, thinking of us. Otherwise we stress. We create obscene circumstances of what went wrong.
I wondered if I should call Anthony or go down to his office, or maybe I should write another e-mail. I wondered if he was mad at me for something. I had insecurities of what I said, did, wore. All because I didn’t get a morning e-mail.
Looking back it seems so foolish, all this self doubt, when it was the big events I should’ve been fretting over — the big mythological themes of life and death, of love and limited time. That’s what matters, I know that now. Five years later, I try explaining it to my friends, though most don’t understand. The only person who would understand is… Well, you, Anthony.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, February 24, 5:30 p.m.
Subject: life cycle
feeling a little out of sorts,
for a variety of reasons:
family is on the verge of a civil war,
i don’t feel very good,
a broken love is calling for seconds,
and then of course, there’s you.
instinct dives into work
and doesn’t look back,
second guess looks back,
stupidity turns,
and before long
i’m in it.
in school,
math was the easiest topic —
formulas and equations,
rules and absolutes.
in life,
that’s far from the case.
and yet, my mind searches
for the simple addition and resulting sum,
the clean division with no remainder —
it just isn’t there
and that sucks.
my family is coming apart at the seams,
and i want more than anything
to find the magical words
that make everyone smile again,
and forgive each other —
but the fact that i am discovering
and slowly coming to term
s with,
is that my family has never been
as close as i thought they were —
my mother and her siblings
have a beef that goes back fifty years…
fifty years!
that’s fucking insane!
i have made my own way into the arena.
weapons are drawn, but is this my fight?
my health is questionable these days.
i have a stomach ache that won’t go away.
chalk it up to stress, i guess.
then there’s broken love,
calling for seconds
in the shadow of her husband
and that’s a whole other story —
a story that refuses to end
but needs to.
and finally you,
my beautiful friend:
this breath that blows in
and escapes just before i can take it in,
a curious cat that comes close
but always stays just out of reach,
an answer that leaves more questions.
life goes in cycles.
usually when one cycle
reaches a boiling/turning point —
i think i’m there
with a stomach ache.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, February 24, 6:14 p.m.
Subject: the rotation of life
I myself can surely relate to the struggles of family ties,
being in the middle of a battle I was never a part of.
not to mention I was never very good at picking a side,
hence living as many miles away from family as possible.
hence visiting them on my terms, when I need.
the only way I make it through…
is remembering that their actions
don’t reflect mine.
some battles are lost standing on the sidelines.
I, on the other hand, am weakest in math.
I question matter-of-fact formulas,
and I definitely don’t live for rules and absolutes…
just possibilities.
it is within those “remainders”
from our “clean division”
that keeps life in flux and makes it interesting.
as for a love calling for seconds…
only you know what’s best.
only you can answer those feelings,
remember those pasts,
embrace those emotions.
if you think going back to a past relationship
would in any way change this…
it doesn’t.
it couldn’t.
and although there is a breath
that escapes before you take it in
it’s consistent and genuinely…
a possibility.
so. smile. I am.
maybe I can rub your tummy to make it feel better?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, February 24, 6:23 p.m.
Subject: Re: the rotation of life
thank you.
i am smiling now
oh. you rubbing my tummy sounds lovely.
I didn’t want to pry. It was none of my business. I thought maybe I could be an ear, a friend. A connection to look forward to at the end of the day. I’d be perky and fun (instead of my sarcastic self) to get Anthony’s mind off of heavy thoughts.
When he wasn’t waiting for me outside his office door, it stung a little. Instead I knocked and asked if he was ready, waited for him to collect his belongings. He didn’t say a word, just nodded yes. No witty banter, no teasing, he said nothing as we headed to our cars. I strolled alongside as close as I could, leaning on his arm. I wanted to cheer him up somehow, nudged him with my head to get a response. Like a kitten circling his feet, waiting to be touched. I practically meowed. When we got to my car, he merely said, “Goodnight.”
There was no walking back and forth, no prolonged goodbye. We parked next to each other. I didn’t know what to do, so I climbed into his truck, closed the door and stared straight ahead at the cement wall of the parking structure. It was dark, and few cars remained in the garage. I can’t say I wasn’t nervous when he climbed in the driver’s seat. Unsteady, he turned on his iPod, as quiet music began to fill the space.
“Your tummy feeling better?” I purred. Never thinking this would become an often-asked question.
“It will be after you rub it.”
There was a deep worry in his voice. He reached for my hand, slowly touching my knuckles with the tip of his finger. The affection sent shivers through every part of me. My hand reached for his.
Our fingers expressed the passion our bodies could not, speaking the fervor our words did not. He and I said nothing, expressing everything in our caresses. Our hands intertwined, squeezed, tangled and fondled. Clasped so tight we watched them move to the rhythm of the music as the car radio sang to us, for us. We simply held hands.
What felt like minutes soon became an hour. I didn’t want it to end. Even now the thought of it sends shivers. (And babe, I’d hold your hand every damn time if it would’ve helped any tummy aches go away.)
“I should probably go.” I was mostly trying to convince myself, though.
Hesitating, Anthony opened my palm and drew a heart in the center of it. “Take this with you. Be careful. It’s fragile,” Then he closed my hand.
I got out of the car with my hand still closed, as he drove away. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to turn around, pick me up and take me out of my routine. Drive to Mexico.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Friday, February 25, 10:01 a.m.
Subject: moments
thank you for last night.
it felt very much overdue
to sit down with you,
and share a moment
we have only alluded to…
attached is a song that was playing
"Ghosts of Things to Come"
Kronos Quartet
I didn’t respond to Anthony’s e-mail all day. I avoided the sixth floor. I shunned overwhelming feelings of pleasure from the night before. I chastised myself: I HAVE A BOYFRIEND. I wrote it down on a sticky note and stuck it to my computer screen as a reminder to not e-mail. I somehow avoided him for most of the day. When we ran into each other in the lunchroom, I blamed work for my distance. “I am SOOO busy today, sorry.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
I snuck out of the office without saying goodnight, and headed home for the weekend.
chapter five
la cienega just smiled
“Are you trying to pick a fight?” Five Year yelled.
“No,” I said, using my indoor voice.
“Then why are you bringing this up again?” Still yelling. “Don’t we have enough pressure on our relationship? Plus, you just started a new job. Things need to be settled before we start thinking about marriage.” He stormed out of the room.
“But it’s been five years.” I followed him. “We’ve lived together for four? How settled does it need to be?”
“When our relationship is perfect, maybe then,” he snapped. “Why can’t it just stay the way it is? Next you’re going to ask me if I want kids, and you already know that answer. I told you from the beginning of our relationship that I don’t want kids. Why are you picking a fight?”
“I’m not. I just asked you if we’ll ever get married. You’re the asshole yelling.”
“We are done with this conversation.” He slammed the door behind him.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, February 28, 6:02 p.m.
Subject: another e-mail
here is my e-mail,
an e-mail I wrote today…
each time I came to my desk,
I’d type
a sentence more.
I needed a chance to really think
about our moments together,
and so I spent the entire weekend
consumed by thoughts of you…
potentials.
possibilities.
complications.
I realized that since “this” started
I have been so caught up in my own emotions and confusions
that I never factored in yours.
I had heard you were in a messy triangle situation
but I assumed your heart
to be secure, not fragile.
so here is where I stand…
you deserve
first dates,
first kisses,
and unexpected love,
without sneaking around
and worrying about boyfriends or husbands…
Plus I don’t want you to be a home-wrecker, and given where my relationship stands with my boyfriend, “this” would be just another triangle situation. Another equation that you are all too familiar with. I told you in the beginning that I am not engaged, but if he asked me tomorrow, my answer would be yes. With that said, my relationship for the past few months (long before you) has been difficult and trying. We are at a crossroads where we either commit or move on. As each day passes, my ideas for the future, for marriage and children, change, making my relationship with my boyfriend strenuous.
I am far too intrigued by our conversations,
far too emotionally involved,
and inundated with feelings of infatuations,
that I do not want to be,
nor do I want you to be,
a rebound or an affair…
I’d much rather
just be your friend.
I’ll be the first to admit that sexual tensions can get the best of a situation, and being alone in a room with you I imagine rather difficult. But, I respect our relationship thus far, and I don’t want that to change. I am attracted to you. However, we need to sort out our lives, loves and futures without worrying or questioning “this.”
so, as often as I think about you
or you of me…
let’s get to know each other, let’s flirt, let’s be friends,
but let’s sort out other things
before anything else.
deal?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, February 28, 6:50 p.m.
Subject: Re: another e-mail
Even if I Am Page 3