even if i am. (3 page)

chapter three

lovely day

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Monday, February 21, 8:44 a.m.
Subject:
so cool

it feels good to write to you now,

from the peace and quiet of my house

instead of the distractions and deadlines of work —

oh, the house… right:

of the six people here, four are men, two are women —

all young professionals in different fields.

except for jay — he is one of my closest friends,

works in the industry as a DP/Videographer,

and i went to Peru with him last month

to celebrate my 30
th
birthday.

not including my year of birth in the other e-mail

was completely unintentional —

turning 30 is another topic

we should discuss at some point —

fascinating stuff.

putting my personal life on the table:

i recently came to the end of a flawed,

tumultuous, soap-operatic relationship

that over the course of four months

managed to reach incredible heights

before crashing to an unexpected

but predictable end…

cryptic, i know.

details await.

and yes, i realize we have a backlog of topics,

and am eager for us to find a venue

to sit down and talk about

all the topics that are waiting for words…

if you’re not insane with work,

let’s try to have lunch, take a walk for coffee,

if you’re feeling very brave, let’s have dinner

and give each other an opportunity to really speak

a.

P.S. Attached is a photo on Machu Picchu from my birthday.

Anthony in Peru celebrating his 30th birthday.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Tuesday, February 22, 11:34 a.m.
Subject:
Re: so cool

ahh, the relationship:

the rumor mill has caught up with you too…

though, I think we might be getting our information

from a similar source.

starts with an E,

ends with a Y

and has mil in between?

I knew about your messy breakup.

no details really,

just that you broke up,

got hurt,

in recovery…

that and I’ve heard you’re a nice guy.

not the asshole I figured you to be when we first met.

a good conversation for later maybe?

dinner eh?

honestly as much as I would love to take you up on the offer,

I am not sure I’d be comfortable with dinner…

at least not yet.

plus I think you and I alone in a room

(outside of work) spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e…

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 terms 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.