by Louisa Line
I’m sorry. A bad joke. Please forgive me.
Let’s just talk or write.
You know what I mean.
Is this guy for real? Why is he not running for the hills? I quickly write back a response.
Why are you still here?
I would have given up on me a long time ago.
It’s hard to write, but so very true. I lay my back against the wall, next to the door and wait and hope that I haven’t scared him off with my rambling. I don’t have long to wait and worry as another note falls to the floor, while I’m still fretting.
Sometimes you just know when something is worth the wait.
Like, when you’re a child and you go to bed on Christmas Eve.
You know sleep won’t come but you also know the wait
will make Christmas all the more special.
Wow, the warm feeling spreads further, to the parts that have only been satisfied by Mr Darcy. I’m not sure how, but this man … this wonderful man, has me feeling like a woman again. I write just three words in reply.
I love Christmas!
It’s weak, I know, but I’m scared that if I write any more I might end up confessing something that even I’m not sure I’m ready to confess yet. I post it through the box, sit back and wait.
What’s your favourite Christmas memory?
I don’t even need to think about this and find myself writing almost automatically.
It has to be the year we left putting the decorations up till
Christmas Eve. I remember going to bed with nothing decorated
and then when I woke up in the morning the entire house
was decorated. My parents told me that Santa had done it as I
had been such a good girl all year.
What about yours?
As I wait for a reply, I try to picture the person I am talking to on the other side. I know he has large broad shoulders and a bottom made for pinching. But now I have time, I try to imagine what his face looks like. I imagine he has blue eyes and his hair is fair with extremely kissable lips. I close my eyes and think about what those lips would be like kissing mine then moving to my neck, before moving down… I am pulled away from my thoughts by the letter box opening and a note falling beside me.
It was about three Christmases ago I was just leaving a club when I saw a girl sat outside a shop.
She couldn’t have been much older than fifteen or sixteen and she looked cold.
So I gave her my scarf and she wished me a Merry Christmas.
I know it’s not much but it made me feel like I had helped someone.
Even if it was just a scarf.
I make a promise to myself that this Christmas I will donate to a homeless shelter. The note also hasn’t helped with the tingling that has now engulfed my whole body as I realise just how special this man is. I also find myself longing to know what he looks like, so I write the only thing I can think of to get this information and post it through the door.
You sound a little too good to be true.
I wish I could see what you look like.
It doesn’t take long for a note to fall to the floor followed by an ID badge with a picture attached.
I leave the letter on the floor and grab the ID badge. I can’t hold back the very loud gasp that escapes my lips. I know Steve must have heard it too as I hear a small laugh coming from the other side of the door. I can’t help the gasp, but I also can’t help the wetness I instantly feel between my legs, as staring back at me is what I can only describe as a Greek God. I can only see the face in the picture but I already knew what the body was like. My imagination from earlier wasn’t far off. He did in fact have the most perfect blue eyes, the same colour blue as the sky on a cloudless summer’s day. His nose has a small curve to it as if it had been broken sometime in the past and the lips, well what can I say other than I had a new fantasy to think about tonight as the lips I imagined earlier really didn’t do him justice. Not only were they extremely kissable but also hinted at many hidden talents. He had a strong jawline and what looked like a hint of a dimple in his cheek. I would place him in his early thirties which means he isn’t that much older than me.
After having my fill of ogling the badge I place it down and pick up the note that is with it.
I hope my picture doesn’t scare you off.
Tell me something about you that no one else knows?
I read his note again and feel a hint of disappointment that he doesn’t want to know what I look like. Then I think about the question he has asked. What can I tell him that won’t send him running? I ponder it for a few more minutes until I write down the only thing I can think of.
When I’m tired, I find it hard to tell the difference between salt and sugar.
I then pause before I write the next thing that’s on my mind and before I can regret what I have written I post it through the letter box.
Why didn’t you want to know what I look like?
I think about all the reasons why he doesn’t want to know; maybe this is just a way of passing the time for him. Take pity on the poor trapped woman while he’s waiting for his girlfriend to finish work. Oh shit! I don’t even know if he has a girlfriend or not. I start to scribble my next question on a piece of paper as a note floats down beside me.
I can tell you have a great sense of humour.
I can also tell you are not ready for such personal questions yet,
plus, I don’t need to know. I can tell by your voice that you will be
one of the sexiest women I have ever laid eyes on.
Could this man be any more perfect? That just confirms it. He must have a girlfriend or a wife waiting for him somewhere. There must be something wrong with this picture! I change my mind about what I am planning to write and decide to play it a little more subtly.
What would your girlfriend think of you flirting with another woman?
I hold my breath while I wait for a reply, chanting in my head ‘Please don’t have a girlfriend. Please don’t have a girlfriend.’ It seems to take forever for the next note to drop, even though I know that it really has been only a few seconds.
No girlfriend here.
How about you? Any boyfriend or husband I should be worried about?
It will be very hard to explain why the delivery man is sat on the floor outside his flat
passing messages to his partner.
I cannot help the smile that breaks out across my face on reading this note and thank every holy being there is for ‘delivering’ this man to me. This then makes me burst out laughing at the pun I had just made up in my head. As I am writing a reply another note falls to the floor.
You have the sexiest laugh.
I cover my hand over my mouth as it dawns on me that he can hear me. I quickly write my reply.
I wouldn’t let my boyfriend hear you say that.
I post it through the door and wait. I then start to second guess myself and wonder if I have pushed this too far and quickly scribble out another note and post it through the door, hoping I’m not too late.
But, no, seriously. There is no boyfriend.
I contemplate writing ‘who would want me?’ But instead of writing it, I just think it.
It’s not long before another note appears.
Good
Less competition.
We carry on passing notes to one another and we fall into a comfortable conversation, just asking and answering questions and finding out about each other. I already know he loves the outdoors and had a dog called Penfold when he was growing up. He was a huge Danger Mouse fan as a child and he named the dog after one of the characters as he thought he looked a lot like him, which made me laugh. I explained how when I was younger I had a hamster called Pokey as I was a little obsessed with Garfield and how Pokey was the name of Garfield’s favourite teddy bear.
I’m not sure how long we have been chatting for, but my bottom has gone to sleep and I have had to turn a light on as it has got too d
ark to write without it. Wow, who would have thought we would have so much to talk about without talking at all.
I can’t believe we have been talking for so long!
I write and send through the letter box, as with ever other time a note appears within seconds of mine leaving my hand.
I hadn’t noticed. It’s as if time stands still when I am with you.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t though and I’m afraid I have to go.
I can’t believe how alone I feel already as I read these words and he hasn’t even gone yet. I shake myself knowing I am being silly and send back a quick response.
Thank you for keeping me company for so long.
It can get very lonely between these four walls by myself.
Have a great evening, whatever you have planned.
Till my next delivery.
I hear shuffling outside as I imagine him standing up and getting himself ready to leave. As I start to stand to do the same I hear the letter box rattle and another note falls to the ground.
What if we don’t wait till your next delivery?
I read the note and wonder what he could be talking about and write as much on my next note to him. Not that I have a chance to send it as another note falls to the ground.
Why wait when we are in a world filled with technology so we don’t have to.
I don’t like the idea of you being lonely
So here is my number to use in those moments.
His number is written on the bottom of the note and once again my body feels like electricity is racing through it right down to all my sensitive parts. I hear more shuffling outside and remember that the boxes from my delivery must still be outside my door. Before I know what, I am doing I place my hand on the door and as much as I want to open it, my body just won’t respond.
“Thank you,” I say softly as I rest my head again the wooden door.
“I look forward to hearing from you soon, Jessica. I meant what I said. You should never feel lonely. Please think about using the number.” I think about how to respond, but before I can think of anything I hear footsteps retreating down the corridor and the elevator doors open and close and I’m left wondering if what has just happened has been real or just a beautiful dream.
I try to keep myself busy all night but find myself being drawn back again and again to the note with his phone number on. I know it’s too early to message him as it’s only been a few hours since he left, so, to distract myself, I have collated all of the notes he has given me in time order and found a special keepsake box to put them in. I have also cooked and eaten my dinner, cleaned up the kitchen and put my shopping away.
It then dawns on me that I have his number but I never gave him mine. Surely that’s not fair, so maybe I should just send him a quick text, so he has mine as well, fair is fair after all. I move to find my phone and then think better of it, so I take myself off to the bathroom to have a bath. I pour in far too much bubble bath and have bubbles everywhere. I don’t care though. I test the water and it’s just right so I strip off and slip into the bath, closing my eyes as I realise how great the water feels on my tired body. It’s not long till my mind starts to wander to Steve as I remember his ID badge and what he actually looks like. I close my eyes and allow my fantasies to play out in the bath imagining his hands where mine are.
By the time I leave the bath, the water is freezing and I am resembling a shrivelled prune and, even though the activities in the bath have taken the edge off my yearning, I am still left wanting more. I put on my dressing gown and as I pass the living room, pick up my mobile and Steve’s number before I make my way into the bedroom and get ready for bed. As I slip under the covers I grab my phone and fire a message off to Steve, before I have the chance to change my mind.
Me: I thought it only fair you should have my number too. You know, just in case. Jessica
I contemplate adding a kiss at the end but change my mind and leave it off. I place my phone back on the bedside table and roll over ready to try and fall asleep. I find it hard to sleep, but eventually my eyes start getting heavier as sleep overtakes my body.
I wake up sometime later not really sure as to why I have woken up until the ping from my phone signals that a message has just come in. The entire room lights up and I have to squint in order to find my phone and see who my message is from. My heart skips a beat as I realise it’s from Steve.
Steve: Just got your message, it’s been a long night so thought I would text you goodnight.
I’m suddenly much more awake then I should be for two in the morning and sit myself up in bed. I read through his message again and think about how to reply. Should I reply? Would I seem too keen if I reply back now? I close my eyes and take a deep breath trying to calm myself. I can do this! I know I can! Once I have composed myself I start to type, but change my mind four or five times before I settle on what I believe is just the right thing to type.
Me: Hope it’s been a good night. I had an early night.
The reply comes almost instantly.
Steve: Sorry. Did I wake you? I’ll let you get back to sleep.
This makes me smile. It’s been a long time since I have had anyone care, and even though I’m not stupid enough to think that he really does on any deeper level, it’s great for my ego.
Me: No. Don’t go. Unless you want to?
I am totally out of my depth here but find myself not being able to put the phone down, not while the little dots are on the screen.
Steve: I’m sorry if I woke you. I’ve been thinking about you all evening and then I remembered your message and couldn’t resist texting goodnight.
I smile at this. He’s been thinking about me. This brings butterflies to my stomach and I’m suddenly very nervous about how to reply. Can I really do this flirting thing? I am so out of practice. I see the little dots return and wait eagerly to see what he is writing.
Steve: I’m glad you messaged me.
Me: I have a confession… I’ve been thinking about you too.
I press ‘send’ before I have time to change my mind. The butterflies have turned into elephants stomping inside my stomach as I sit and wait. The dots don’t appear though and I suddenly feel stupid for writing what I did. I look one last time for the dots but when they don’t appear I place my phone on the side, refusing to let it get to me even though I can feel disappointment and doubt fighting their way into my thoughts. I keep looking over at the phone even though I know I’m being silly and a little obsessive. I get up and go to use the bathroom. As I’m sat on the toilet I hear a faint sound from the bedroom and all but rush through my business to get back to the phone.
Steve: I’ve not stopped thinking about you since the first day I heard your voice.
Me: How can you think about me? You don’t even know me.
Call me crazy but part of me doesn’t believe this can be real, I mean can a man really be this perfect?
Steve: I know you love chocolate but limit yourself by only ordering one bar a week. I know you blame yourself for what’s happened to you. I know, although we have never met in person I am mesmerised by you. I know you are scared, but I know I really want to see where this goes. Just give us a chance and stop second guessing everything.
Me: Give us a chance of what?
Steve: To get to know each other any way we can.
Me: I’m not sure when or if I’ll be able to open my door.
Steve: Then we’ll find a way around it. Stop building walls, Jessica.
Me: I just want you to go into this with your eyes open. I’m damaged goods.
Steve: NEVER refer to yourself as that! You’re not damaged, you’re just ill. We all get sick, Jessica, and I am fully aware of what I am doing here. I’m willing to see where this goes. Are you?
I stare at the screen for so long it goes into sleep mode. Am I ready for this? Can I do this? Tears start to fall down my face as all the frustration I’m feeling bubbles out of me. It’s then I realise that I am fed up
of allowing this illness to rule my life and that it’s time for me to take my life back. I am not defined by my illness and it may be a part of me, but it is a part I will learn to control, so I reply back with the one word that at this moment terrifies me the most.
Me: Yes
Steve: Yes?
Me: Yes! I want to see where this goes. But I should warn you I have three eyes and four arms.
I have to make a joke as I feel so much tension inside me. Can I really do this? I don’t know the answer to that but one thing I do know is how desperately I want to try.
Steve: I wish I was holding you right now.
My heart skips a beat as something awakens in me that has been lying dormant for a very long time.
Me: I think I would like that.
Steve: It’s getting late. I had better let you get to sleep. Can I text you tomorrow?
Me: I’ll be waiting for it. I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to sleep much now though.
Steve: Just imagine me holding you. Till tomorrow xx
Me: Night
*
I place the phone on the bedside table and lay on my side. I know I am far too worked up to go to sleep so I do as Steve suggested and imagine him lying next to me with his arms wrapped around my waist. I place my own there and begin to draw small circles over my stomach imagining its Steve’s hand and not mine. I move my hand down my body to between my legs and sigh in relief as some of the tension I hadn’t realised I had starts to ease as I slowly move my fingers to my special spot. It’s not long before I am moaning, and with thoughts of the delicious things Steve is doing to me I come more violently than I ever have when using Mr Darcy. It’s not long after this that I fall into a blissful sleep.
Saturday 3rd June
I wake the next day and feel lighter than I have in a very long time. Stretching in bed I roll over to check the time on my phone, smiling as I remember the events of the previous night. I am putting my phone down as a message comes in. I grab the phone up again in excitement and I’m not disappointed when I see it’s from Steve.