The Record of My Heart (Words #3.5)
Page 8
Okay, I’m going to close here because I want to email you so that I can actually hear back from you. You see, that’s the weird thing about writing these letters. Although I thoroughly enjoy the process, the lack of response is disheartening. Every time I sign one, I’m tempted to send the whole bundle off to you, but I stop myself. Like my grandfather did, I have to wait for the perfect time. With several weeks left in the semester, now is definitely not the perfect time. (Cue: Me already starting to obsess about the perfect time to give you these letters. I’m such an ass.)
Affectionately,
(The ass who adores you)
~Daniel
xoxoxo…
Wednesday, April 8
Hello there, green-eyes,
It feels like forever since I’ve sat down to write a letter, when in reality, it’s only been four days. I suppose with time creeping by the way it is, every day seems endless. I would have written a word here and there throughout the week if I’d had time, but between classes and tutorials and the sonnet conferences I’ve been doing, I haven’t had many free moments. The few quiet minutes I have had I’ve been using in other “creative pursuits,” as you know, since you now have in your hands the CD and liner notes I painstakingly prepared for you.
I suppose I should thank you instead of cursing you for imposing the ban on gifts because it’s forced me to think of other ways to show you my feelings, and I never thought I’d derive so much enjoyment from making someone a CD. The expression “labor of love” comes to mind.
To be honest, the hardest part of making that CD was narrowing down the playlist to thirteen songs. I would have included one or two more, but I’m developing a bit of a fascination with the number thirteen. If the events of February thirteenth and March thirteenth weren’t enough, there’s your birth date to underscore the magnificence of the number. So yes, thirteen is my new favorite number. (If you haven’t already realized it, I have a tendency to be a smidge compulsive at times. Now, apparently, in addition to my laundry list of other foibles, I’ve become numerically obsessive. Awesome.)
Bottom line, I hope you like the CD as much as I enjoyed putting it together for you. I thought you would have listened to it by now, and I might have heard from you, but I suspect you might have fallen into bed as soon as you got home from your night class. You’ve had a taxing day, and just because I was the one conducting your sonnet conference, I’m sure that didn’t make the assessment any easier. In fact, it may well have been more stressful for you. I was fairly nervous myself, but I tried to stay calm and completely focused to help you.
Stupid as it sounds, I loved reading that exchange from Romeo and Juliet with you and listening to your analysis. You did a nice job working your way through the themes and motifs, and I’m happy to have helped shed light on another possible angle of interpretation. You looked a little shell-shocked when I came out to give you your notes. I hope you didn’t think you screwed up, because you did beautifully. I could have happily sat and chatted about the play with you for the rest of the evening. I’ve never had a romantic relationship with someone who shared my love of Renaissance literature before. I wish we had more time to indulge in long discussions about what we’ve read and enjoyed. One day…
Well, it’s late, and I have more conferences starting at nine in the morning so I’d best turn in. As always, I’m thinking of you, and my heart is heavy as I contemplate the week ahead. I’ll go to sleep tonight remembering the way you looked today as you read Juliet’s lines. Just so you know, YOU kiss by the book. And I’m not referring to rules, convention, and propriety. I’m referring to my Achilles’ heel, which I’m sad to report, is completely healed. I look forward to being completely crippled in a few weeks.
Good night, my sweetheart. I’ll write more soon.
~Daniel
Thursday, April 9
I sit down to write this evening, Aubrey, not having crossed paths with you today and without any hope of seeing you until next Wednesday. The thought is depressing beyond measure. At a time when you’ll be alone, with no family to rally around you for Easter, I feel more than ever the need to be there for you—to support you and offer you solace and company, but heaven knows I could be in a room full of people, as I will be on Sunday, and still feel your absence acutely.
I’ve been so tempted to suggest that we find a time to get together during the next few days, somewhere safe and neutral, just to give us both something to look forward to over this very long weekend. I hope you think of me as much as I think of you because if you don’t, then I’ll feel even more foolish when I give you this collection of correspondence. Of course, there’s always the book of love letters to turn to when I need a reminder that I’m not alone in my pathetic devotion to the woman I adore. For instance, look at this passage by Henry VIII as he pined for Anne Boleyn…
“…absence gives enough, and more than I ever thought could be felt. This brings to my mind a fact in astronomy, which is, that the further the poles are from the sun, notwithstanding, the more scorching is the heat. Thus is it with our love; absence has placed distance between us.
Nevertheless fervor increases—at least on my part. I hope the same from you, assuring you that in my case the anguish of absence is so great that it would be intolerable were it not for the firm hope I have of your indissoluble affection towards me.”
Can you hear his agony? Were it not for the fact that Henry VIII was a violent and narcissistic asshat, I might actually sympathize with him. I can empathize with his plight, though. The absence of you in my days is painful. I know it’s not your fault that we can’t see each other, and I admire your strength, but that doesn’t make the prospect of being apart from you for the next five days any easier.
Now I know it’s a good thing I’m not sharing these letters with you. The last thing you need is me making you feel guilty for the decisions you’re making—decisions which are good and sound and based on promises made to my father. Your determination to remain faithful to that promise to my father is staggering. And frustrating. (Infuriating is another word that comes to mind…) I should be grateful for your strength, but a part of me wishes you’d buckle. (It’s quite a big part of me, actually. Can you guess which part it is?) ;)
I shouldn’t write more. I’m not in the best frame of mind. I’m trying too hard. I hope to wake up tomorrow feeling less despondent. I think I’ll devote my writing time this weekend to communicating with you properly, so I’m sure my letter writing here will cease for a few days. I hope you’re prepared to hear from me every hour on the hour until I see you again. Brace yourself for an onslaught of drivel.
~Daniel
xoxoxo…
Sunday, April 12
Hi, sweetheart,
How are you faring, my lovely? By now you’ll have received my mother’s care package and hopefully had a chance to enjoy dinner. Isn’t Patty’s pie amazing? And I hope you like the picture I gave you. I apologize for the rambling, nonsensical note I enclosed. I’ve been a wreck all weekend, to be honest, but I had to make some contribution to the package, since I clearly had nothing to do with the cooking.
You should have seen my mom, Patty, and Penny putting that parcel together in the kitchen while Brad and Jeremy kept my dad busy in the living room. It’s safe to say that my mother is just as eager as we are for the semester to be over (well, maybe not QUITE as eager as we are…). She was saddened by the thought of you spending Easter alone and looks forward to the time when you can join us for family gatherings. She doesn’t want you to hate her. I assured her that wasn’t the case. (I hope that’s not the case…) It was good of Penny and Brad to drop the package off for you. I told Penn to give you a hug for me. I hope she delivered.
Okay, poppet, I won’t write more here. I think I’ll email you now instead. I’m in dire need of some good-night words from you.
Talk to you soon,
~Daniel
xoxoxo…
Monday, April 13
Hi, my beauti
ful girl,
I’m still reeling from our afternoon visit. It was so unexpected, but so wonderful to see you. I don’t want to waste time writing about Cara and the foolishness that prompted your visit in the first place. It was a horrible misunderstanding, and I can only hope that you’ll never feel as if you have to keep something so important from me again. I didn’t realize my anxiety issues frightened you so much, but rest assured, I’m accustomed to talking myself down. Don’t ever avoid telling me something because you think I might get upset. I’ll be fine. As for your concerns about Cara, I understand your worries, but I think I have that situation well in hand.
But enough of that. There are far more important things I want to think about. I can’t articulate how wonderful it felt to finally to tell you that I love you. I’m sure there can’t have been a single doubt in your mind about my feelings for you, but speaking those words? I feel entirely liberated. And have you any idea how comforting it was to hear you say you love me, too? There aren’t adequate adjectives to describe how happy I am right now. Spending time with you this afternoon was an amazing bonus, especially since I thought I wouldn’t see you again until Wednesday!
I know it sounds ridiculous, but our separations always plant seeds of doubt in my mind, allowing fears to run rampant in my heart. An afternoon with you in my arms—an hour of your kisses, your touch, your sweet words—has filled my heart and wiped out my despair, leaving me feeling whole again. Thank you so much for the lovely gift. I look forward to listening to the CD when you have the notes ready to share. I don’t know what else to say, other than thank you, and I love you—so much—I wish I could properly explain how much. As Mistress Ford told her Falstaff, “Heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one day find it.” Or perhaps I’ll steal Walter Bagehot’s idea. He once said in a letter to his wife Eliza that he was at a loss for words and thought he might simply write in big letters I LOVE YOU all the way across the page to emphasize his feelings. Let’s try that out, shall we?
I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU…!
Yes, that sums it up quite nicely.
Childishly and unequivocally yours,
~Daniel
xoxoxo…
P.S. I LOVE YOU!
Thursday, April 16
Hey there, gorgeous,
Do you want to know the worst thing about being your TA? Aside from the obvious frustrations, of course, I hate that there are things I simply can’t talk to you about because sharing them with you would constitute a conflict of interest. I know you’re worried as hell about Cara and what she’s discovered, and you’re right to suspect that she knows exactly what’s going on with us. After my meeting with her yesterday, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s known all semester. The good news is I can virtually guarantee that she won’t utter a word.
Unfortunately, I can’t tell you why. It remains to be seen if I’ll ever share what’s transpired between me and Cara. All I can hope is that my assurances are appeasing you, and that you’re not wasting time worrying about a situation that I have total control over.
I won’t pretend that my handling of this little crisis has been “pretty.” In fact, I feel kind of sick about it. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but I’m sure it has a great deal to do with the implications of her blabbing. I’m doing my best to stay positive, however, and focusing my energies on the many things I have to accomplish this week, not the least of which is these Much Ado papers.
I marked a handful of them after dinner, and then out of nowhere, I was struck by blinding inspiration and dropped everything to work on my thesis. I’m not absolutely certain that anything I wrote made sense, especially given the inconsistent way I’ve been approaching my paper lately, but God, it felt good to lose myself in my writing for a couple of hours.
As I sat here working this evening, I came to a realization. You know what I’m really looking forward to? Seeing you sitting across from me on the sofa while I work at my desk. I know having you here will be distracting, but I can’t help feeling as if your presence will also be so soothing and restorative, that I’ll happily welcome the occasional distraction. How wonderful to set myself a goal and work away for a couple of hours, knowing that once I’ve finished, we’ll be able to kick back and have a drink together, listen to some music, watch a movie, cuddle, neck for hours—
(I don’t know what I’m talking about…I can’t imagine be able to simply neck with you for hours. Five minutes of your kisses and I’m desperate to rip your clothes off…)
Anyway, that’s beside the point. What I mean to say is that I can’t wait to have you here with me (preferably permanently). You will be my muse, and I’ll become prolific in my accomplishments. (Not that I don’t already consider you my muse—because I do—but I long to have you close by all the time.) Have you ever thought about what inspires you, Aubrey? I think about it a lot, and my thoughts always turn to you. You’ve made me view the world in a different light. No, more than that—you’ve helped me actually see light again where previously there had been darkness for month after endless month. I don’t think you’re aware of the profound effect you’ve had on my life.
Two months ago, I was prone to coming unhinged and flying apart without a moment’s notice. You’ve grounded me in a way you’ll never understand—renewed my confidence and restored the lightness in my heart. I wish I could explain, but I hardly understand it myself…wait, my email alert is chirping with an email from you! It’s so late, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again before bed. I can’t wait to read your words, so I’ll close here.
Yours and yours alone,
~Daniel
xoxoxo…
Saturday, April 18
Hello, my sweetheart. Saturday night, and I’m moping around the condo looking forward to Monday. What is my life? I’ve had a rather unfortunate epiphany which somehow I managed to avoid thinking about yesterday. We’ve had our final tutorial together. It pains me that I’ll never get to see you in action like that again. Your eyes light up when you discuss literature. Yesterday was no exception. It was wonderful watching you come alive as you discussed All’s Well That Ends Well with your peers.
(And did you get a load of Cara? Wasn’t that shocking? I’ve seen that side of her from time to time in our meetings. I don’t know why she feels the need to put on the bimbo routine…)
The gift you all chipped in on was very thoughtful, too. Now I know what secret you were keeping, and I forgive you for holding out on me. You were right not to tell me. The fact remains, though, that one of the things I enjoyed most this semester is over. Will we still have fascinating conversations about books and authors we love when classes come to an end? God, I hope so…
Saying that—when classes come to an end—is surreal now. I can’t believe we’re almost there. Monday, two days from now—it’s the LAST CLASS! What will we do when we walk out of that room and you’re launched into exam hell as we wait for April 30 and the final for Martin’s class? We won’t see each other at all, nor should we—you’ll be busy studying, and I want you to focus on your exams—but the thought of all that time apart is awful. Ten days? Jesus. And I thought Easter weekend was never-ending!
On the other hand, one more class and we’re free of the very thing that’s kept us apart all these long weeks. Well, not entirely free, but it’s the beginning of the end, which allows us to finally contemplate “the beginning” for us, and surely that’s good enough.
I suppose I need to change my mindset. This is our final “test.” The last obstacle we have to cross before what can only be called sweet victory. And I fully intend to do a victory dance. With you. Naked. Bed optional. (What did you say the night of our first kiss? You were afraid we’d end up in the back seat doing a naked mambo? That’s exactly what my victory dance will be—a naked mambo. I will start selecting the music tonight.)
And speaking of music, I’ve just listened to your CD and read the no
tes you wrote. So incredibly beautiful. Can I tell you my favorite part? I’m sure you could easily guess, but I’ll tell you anyway. The Ingrid Michaelson song and the words you wrote to accompany it—
“You can catch me, Daniel. I will let you—that’s how much I love you. I hope you understand the significance of those words—how hard they are for me to say. For me, they are the weightiest of all…”
Do you have any idea how I felt when I read those lines, Aubrey? Knowing you’ll allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to let me help you is the greatest gift you could give me. So now all I can think about is how to be there for you over the many days we’ll be apart. How can I let you know I’m there rooting for you and cheering you on as you work through the final days of your university career? Surely there’s a more meaningful way, other than emails and phone calls, to remind you each and every day how much I love and cherish you.
Without spending any money.
Damn you.
(I’m shaking my fist at you right now.)
But you know I’m creative and stubborn as fuck (sorry to say, you’ve met your match, poppet) and I’ve got the acorn of an idea rolling around in my head, which I fully intend to put into action tomorrow. I’ve cleared my busy schedule (HAHA!) and will spend the day preparing a wonderful surprise for you. If I’m to get it finished tomorrow, though, I’ll have to make an early start of it, so I’m going to turn in now and set my alarm for the butt crack of dawn.
I hope you’re having a good weekend. I miss you horribly.
Yours,
~Daniel
xoxoxo…
Sunday, April 19