even if i am. (4 page)

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

it had been a strange day:

to see you for a moment, aloof and indifferent —

a far cry from the person i have come to know.

your e-mail arrived

and was a welcome change:

honest and open,

brave and articulate —

thank you for that.

there are many levels on which we interact,

and i am fascinated by all of them —

however, although they intersect,

they are also independent, and i sincerely believe

we can become friends, healthy friends,

not hiding an obvious attraction,

but not acting on it —

i agree with you in that the circumstances

are way too much (like, soap-operatic much)

and it is no small relief to sidestep

the potential complications,

to explore each other’s safer sides,

and to let our friendship blossom

out in the open and in the light,

instead of the dark closet of secrets —

you are amazing.

brilliant and beautiful —

and i am thankful

for your every word

and every minute.

"La Cienega Just Smiled"
Ryan Adams

We would stand by this agreement for the next five months. I never wanted to hurt Five Year. That was never my intention. I honestly believed I wasn’t cheating. Looking back it’s totally stupid. I know. I had crossed the line, maybe not physically but surely emotionally. Something in me changed subtly, like the moment the tide turns. Five years held so much weight. I hadn’t committed to five years of anything in my life — the closest was saxophone lessons in middle school and that only lasted two years. When I imagined my old age, and tried to picture myself on the porch swing with someone, that person wasn’t Five Year — truthfully, he never was. I never imagined us growing old together.

The song “La Cienega Just Smiled” held the pain of a breakup. The music and lyrics were absolutely crushing. Why? Because it was Anthony sitting next to me on that imagined porch swing. I knew it from the moment I met him. I was just too scared to admit that I felt this way about him, and Ryan Adams seemed to know it.

chapter six

flying high

“Thanks for coming to lunch. It was nice to see what color your eyes are.”

“And what color are they?” Playfully turning my back.

Anthony spun me closer by a belt loop, encouraged by my tease. “Green, like mine.” We were still giggling as we entered the office, his finger hooked in my loop.

“Hey Chas, where were you? We have a production meeting in ten minutes — ” Emily turned around in my chair, where she was waiting. “OHHH,” she said, as if surprised, “that’s where you were. Hi, Anthony.”

He responded with an awkward wave. Embarrassed, we said nothing, separated, and then parted ways.

“So?” Emily blurted.

“What?” I rolled my eyes at her.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Tuesday, March 1, 4:07 p.m.
Subject:
the light of day

well, the light of day agrees with you…

if i ever get out for lunch,

we will have to do that again

without interruptions and uncomfortable goodbyes.

(our visits never seem long enough.)

"Flying High"
Jem

But I’m flying so high

High off the ground

When you’re around

And I can feel your high

Rocking me inside

It’s too much to hide

I know, oh yes

I know that we can’t

Be together

But, I just like to dream

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Monday, March 1, 1:09 p.m.
Subject:
the songs you send

last night

this weekend

every day

I fight with the idea

of seeing you.

I think about the consequences,

the repercussions.

and I don’t care

if it means a moment

with you.

it’s a struggle

to push feelings aside

to be rational

a battle I am losing…

I adore you.

the way you smile at me with green eyes

the way you grab my belt loop to pull me closer

your words

your thoughts

your e-mails,

and the songs you send…

I adore.

…

I did it. I confessed everything to Emily. I needed to tell someone. I admitted I was flirting at obnoxious levels, that I had crossed the friendship line but always tiptoed back to the safe side. I played her some of the songs he sent, like “Flying High.” I told her about the dozens of e-mails sent in less than a month, never losing contact. I told her I knew about Anthony’s current fling with a roommate, and of his rowdy nights with his best friend Jay. That he knew about my relationship with Five Year. I told her there was a sense of relief in getting to know Anthony without the weight of attachments. How we’d laugh too long. Sneak out for lunch. Give lingering goodbye hugs. I told her I couldn’t get enough. I even confessed the secret conversations in the stairwell. I did. I told her everything.

“I love it!” Emily said, laughing and shaking her head. She wasn’t surprised. She told me about how she too looked for that right person, trying to find a guy who was fun and sexy and funny. She confirmed those restless feelings of standing in that nowhere place, trying to find someone to love, someone to hold on to — and she found him. It was good to share those experiences with her. It’s what brought us together as friends, because at that point in our lives we were experiencing the same feelings and emotions, the same sense of searching. Love in your twenties can be a confusing thing. It holds much more weight because you don’t want to waste time or play games. You want to approach love with absolute faith.

Her truth was reassuring, and her delight, completely contagious.

chapter seven

don’t stop

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, March 2, 2:47 p.m.
Subject:
good morning?

a strange mood for a strange day…

but i also think i’m feeling more

comfortable with you as a person,

and consequently am more

open/brave/inappropriate…

perhaps because we’ve ruled out

something happening between us,

it allows us to feel more comfortable

with flirting to obnoxious levels…

for example:

some of my favorite things in the world

are sex, spooning, and napping —

but done in perfect tandem with each other,

then, well, that’s a lovely way

to spend a weekend afternoon —

but i wonder,

you seem so driven and intense —

i wonder how well you relax,

how good you are at lazy sundays,

and how much you enjoy

the things i enjoy…

the “brazilian girls” are playing sunday

at the knitting factory

and also tuesday at the temple bar —

me and jay do our best groupie impressions

and try to see them whenever they come to town…

might even go to both shows.

important note:

the name is not exactly accurate,

as there is only one girl in the band,

and she’s from spain, italy, or something…

so i’ve attached another song,

and you really ought to be careful

with this one, cause it fuckin’ thumps!

(and it’s kinda sexy too…)

hmm.

this is me

slowly stepping back

behind the line.

"Don't Stop"
The Brazilian Girls

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, March 2, 3:34 p.m.
Subject:
Re: good morning?

well then.

ehum (clearing throat).

good thing I switched to my “private” e-mail address.

although I too like to spend a weekend afternoon

with sex, spooning and of course naps…

I can assure you our sexual appetites differ.

I can be intense

quite frisky

and surely hungry.

and this is beyond obnoxious flirting.

especially with a song like that.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, March 2, 3:45 p.m.
Subject:
Re: good morning?

when was the last time you had sex?

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, March 2, 4:01 p.m.
Subject:
Re: good morning?

knowing your answer is probably last night…

remember I do have a steady boyfriend…

of five years.

which is sorta like being married.

so sex is less of a need.

more of a want.

not to mention,

my bedroom habits, and my last time

is really none of your business

since we ruled out our relationship

ever reaching this point.

monday.

Neither of us could control what was happening, in particular our physical attraction. I wanted to devour Anthony, kiss him, cuddle him — hell, even hugging him was satisfying. He was sexy, and talking about sex — talking about anything at this point was, well, sexy. I teetered from practical to improbable. I wasn’t a cheater.
My God he’s hot
. I lost myself in my attraction to him. The push and pull from lust to guilt had me spinning.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Thursday, March 3, 9:31 a.m.
Subject:
new day

a new day

new e-mail.

it would have been nice to see you,

to follow up all the written words

with a physical presence, and a smile —

but honestly, it did become frustrating

to think about you, visualize you

in all of your uninhibited beauty,

loving, being loved, and being free…

it is hard to smell the aroma

but not taste the dish…

and yes.

i am hungry.

but you were right,

in that sex does mean

different things to you and i —

the superficial appeal

does not deafen my ears

the way it once did,

but the loving i miss

and the loving i want

comes from as much of an emotional place

as it does a physical one —

the emotions we feel

with the one we are with,

elevates us into another dimension —

sheesh!

hot shit for first thing

in the morning

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Thursday, March 3, 10:32 a.m.
Subject:
Re: new day

you my friend, are a helpless romantic.

your ideas of love and intimacy are endearing.

you really need a girlfriend to adore!

I too prefer to have an emotional

as well as physical connection with someone.

to love. to be loved.

the only difference is…

I can keep them separate.

I can enjoy each one,

physical, emotional,

on separate levels.

to me they don’t go hand in hand

but compliment each other,

whereas some need one to have the other.

I too agree that yesterday’s conversation

may have been a little frustrating,

but I look for the possibilities…

and anxiously wait meals ahead.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Thursday, March 3, 12:41 p.m.
Subject:
Re: new day

i have been in love before,

beautiful, dizzy, inspired love —

and these days, anything less

seems like a waste of time.

too often in past relationships

i have felt the guilt and sadness

of an unbalanced relationship —

when one is loved more than they love…

my brother once told me

that all relationships

fall into that category,

and its just a matter

of what side of it you want to be on…

my mother told me once

that the side you’re on oscillates with time…

christ. this is making my head hurt —

anyway,

last time i had sex was friday —

and it was sweet, safe, and comfortable…

not quite the adjectives i like.

you just came in, to give me a hug

and now i’m all thrown off…

…

I didn’t even knock, I walked right in. Closed the door behind me.

“I’m a girl and that’s what girls do. Sometimes we’re aggressive and sometime we want to cuddle. And sometimes we sleep with men we don’t love. We overanalyze things and sometimes we don’t know what we want. At least, I don’t know what I want. I get moody sometimes. I’m a girl. And I’m sorry if our e-mails felt feisty yesterday. Sometimes I get like that. You’re just gonna have to deal with it.” I opened my arms, and motioned my fingers inward. “Now give me a hug.”

I talk too much when I’m nervous and sometimes I have this high-pitched, pouty whine. I’m a girl and that’s what girls do. We whine.