What Brings Me to You (29 page)

              “He’s a charismatic young man. I can see why you fell for him,” she said with a knowing smile. Another reason why I could not be with Teddy. If mom approved that meant he was probably a cheating, wife-beating jerk. “Also, we have a shared misery. We both screwed things up with you, Charley. Obviously to varying degrees but we have a bond over that.”

              “Isn’t that touching,”
and weird
I thought.

              “Just give him a chance. I think he loves you.” she pleaded.

              “No.”

              So ended our discussion of Teddy, though mother would not allow me to leave the letters behind. I promised to read them only if she in turn promised to meet Jaime and give him a chance. We didn’t hug at the end, and that surprisingly wasn’t awkward. We made another date to meet for coffee at the same place two weeks later. For the weight of the conversation, I was surprised it went as well as it did. Jim, Jaime and Collette would be proud I thought, and I was feeling a new lightness. Ever since arriving on campus and one by one unburdening myself of the skeletons in my closet I was feeling better every day. I could feel myself growing, maturing and changing and it made me giddy with excitement. If there was anyone who was making the most of the college experience it was me. I partly skipped back to the dorm which was, unsurprisingly empty. Kelsey was spending a lot more time in Colin’s room since his roommate dropped out. I hung around the dorm trying to study or read but my eyes kept darting back to the letters mom had given me. When I told her I would read them I had every intention not to, but then, in the empty dorm, after talking with her and churning up memories of our failed relationship it was like they would spontaneously combust if I didn’t open them. I paced the room, absentmindedly twisting the pendant, his pendant, around my throat over and over until finally I gave in.

              There were several unopened ones and one that was opened and shoved into a new envelope. It was long. “One…two…God, six pages?” I read every one. Some I had to reread. There were words that he’d never said to me before. An honesty I’d never felt from him before. He was doing what we talked about in passing: becoming a doctor. My heart involuntarily swelled for him. I was happy that he was finding his passion. It was more than flattering that he credited me for helping him do that. It was so strange. There were so many feelings being dredged up by reading his words, holding paper that he once too had held caused my mind to swirl and my thoughts to fracture. It was almost like having a panic attack but it felt good. Warm in my belly. I couldn’t articulate it then, but I can now. Despite all of the reasons I shouldn’t have been, I was still in love with him.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Teddy

              Iris was poised in our usual booth at the back of the Rath. I know that you probably think it’s really strange for me to even say that.
Our usual.
Hell, I thought it was strange, too, but I liked being with Iris. She just reminded me so much of Charley,  it was hard not to. Her dry wit, her self-deprecating humor, her barbed social commentary was refreshing in the way Charley was refreshing. I had a feeling she was letting me see a side of herself that she rarely, if ever, let anyone else see. 

              “Hi Teddy,” she said, not even bothering to get up from her side of the booth.

              “You seem chipper,” I commented dryly.

              “I talked with with Charley. We had our second lunch date together. It seems like things might one day be okay with us. Imagine that.”

              “That’s great.” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Really, didn’t have anything else to say, but even if I did, I didn’t want to endure more conversation. I wanted to get down to business.

              “I have some bad news for you, Teddy,” she said trying to look sympathetic but there was a gleam in her eye that Charley had inherited. It was that self-assured look Charley would always get when she would win an argument. Whatever this bad news was, Iris wasn’t sad about it. “She has a boyfriend.”

              “A boyfriend?” I managed to get out before my mouth went completely dry. It wasn’t like the thought never crossed my mind, I just didn’t think she’d move on as quickly from me. (Even though at this point we’d been apart for almost a year.) I thought what we had together was special enough for her to wait a while. I did. More than that, even though intellectually I knew that it was possible Charley would refuse to see me; that the meetings with Iris were about closure, my heart held onto the hope that we’d be together at the end of it all. I swallowed hard against the reality closing in on my throat.

              “Yes,” she stated rather smugly. “According to her, things are pretty serious.”

              “Did you…?” I couldn’t finish. There was a catch in my voice.
Fuck, Teddy, don’t start crying about it.
I was so caught up in the idea of Charley with another guy and not breaking down in tears like a bitch in front of her mother that I didn’t finish the question. Thankfully she didn’t make me.

              “I gave them to her, yes.”

              “And?” I questioned nearly jumping up out of the booth. “What did she say?”

              “Nothing about the letters specifically but,” she took out a scrap piece of paper and slid it across the table to me.

              “What’s this?”

              “Her email address, she asked me to give it to you.”

              “She what?”

              “She read the letters, Teddy. She wants you to contact her.” Nothing was adding up. She had a boyfriend. She said it was serious, but she wanted me to contact her. Maybe she was referring to me. Maybe she wanted me to contact her so we could get back together. Or if it wasn’t me, maybe he was just a stand in for me. Maybe she’d drop him so we could pick up where we left off. Either way, Charley, my Charley, wanted me to contact her. I looked at the paper, just an email address. A university email address. I flipped it over hoping there’d be a phone number but was disappointed. Blank. I looked back up to Iris in question. I didn’t need to ask what I was thinking for her to respond.

              “She doesn’t have a phone but she’s got the computer, which, I guess I need to repay you for.”

              “That’s unnecessary,” I said dismissively. Iris of all people knew the money didn’t mean a damn thing to me. “I would’ve done more for her if she’d have let me.”

              “Well, a thank you is certainly in order,” she said intent on something at the bottom of her wine glass.

              “Iris, this is thanks enough.” We sat and let the words hang between us. I hoped that she knew what it meant to me that she’d help me. It also brought up a question. “Iris,” I began cutting the silence. “Why are you helping me?”

              “To be honest, I don’t really know. Everything in me is telling me not to. You remind me so much of…” she just shook her head and didn’t finish.
Who? Who did I remind her of?
Was it Paul? Maybe it was Charley’s real dad. “But I think you really love my daughter. I haven’t met the boyfriend, but I’ve met you, and I like you. I’m willing to take a chance on you even  if she isn’t.”

              “Thanks.”

              “Teddy, this is huge” she said gesturing toward the piece of paper in my hand. “Don’t blow it, okay? Speaking with her today I know that you won’t get a third chance.”

              “Understood,” little did she know this kind of was my third chance which made it all the more important.

*****

              I sat and stared at the blank whiteness of an empty email message and the blinking black cursor seemed to be mocking me with each flicker. I must’ve started the damn thing a hundred times and erased every word.
Christ! Where do I even start?
I wished she’d have given me a phone number or better, agreed to meet me somewhere to talk because at least I could read her reactions, she could read mine. There was something so cataclysmically finite about this form of static communication. Every word had to be so carefully scrutinized lest it come off in a way I had not intended. It had to convey everything that I wanted without coming on too strong. She had to know I was desperate for her without actually sounding desperate. If I did that, I’d just drive her out of my life. It felt like trying to get a doe to eat out of your hand, that moment when it’s so close and then looks you in the eye and it has all the power. If you move at all, if you blink, if you so much as breathe too quickly, the thing will bolt on you. Charley was like that. Like a little doe I was coaxing to come to me. Basically, this email couldn’t be anything less than perfect. The line was so fine between perfection and disaster that my hands were clammy as they sat motionless; poised over my keyboard. The pressure of those moments, the weight of what this email had to carry was so intense. Lacey, I wouldn’t have that shit for anyone else.
Anyone.
But it was what she wanted. It was all she was giving me and I lapped it up because of my love for her. I sucked in a breath and started typing again, letting my fingers fly across the screen, not daring to look at the words as they hit the monitor.

My Charley,

Thank you for letting me get in touch with you. You have to know what it means that you’d agree to this. Charley there’s so much I want to say, but so much time has passed. I want to know everything about you. I want to know you just like we knew each other last summer. I told you then that I wanted to know everything. The good, the bad, the really bad… It’s still true. Tell me all about what you’ve been doing. What is your major? What is your room like? What is/are your roommate(s) like? What are your friends like? Do you have a job? How do you like your classes? Are you happy? Do you miss me the way that I miss you? (Okay, maybe you don’t have to answer that last one.) I want you to tell me everything, Charley. I’m not going to reiterate all the things I said in the letters you read (at least I hope you read). I will at some point, but not yet. (Of course I’m thinking them. Feeling them.) But for now, I just want to know that you’re out there safe, happy, and maybe even thinking of me.

Yours,

G.T.H.3

              I read and reread it over and over. I’d broken out in a cold sweat by the time I hit send but that was just the beginning.

              Then, I had to wait.

              I compulsively checked my email. Every time the alert chimed I jumped like I was possessed. She made me wait. She made me wait eighteen hours. It felt like so much longer and by the time I saw her name in my inbox I was so raw emotionally from the anticipation I was twitching. I hovered my mouse over her name and paused. Up to this point I hadn’t thought about what she’d say.
This could be really bad
.
Awful, in fact
. She could’ve crashed my entire world with one word and I would’ve let her because anything she said to me would be true. Any invectives she chose to throw at me would all be true. I didn’t deserve her, and yet I had to have her. I had to have her in more than just an abstract way. I wanted her to be mine and truly believed that this email would be our first step.
Stop acting like a pussy, Teddy and open the goddamn email.
It can’t be the end. She has to be writing because she cares.
I had to know.
Click.

Teddy,

I did read your letters, thank you for sending them. Please don’t thank me, though, please.  While I appreciate you wanting to give me the credit for the direction of your life, I cannot accept it. You’ve done it all on your own. I’m really proud of you for going after your happiness. You deserve to be happy. I hope that your family isn’t giving you a hard time about it. Should I call you Doctor Holmes already?

My roommate is your typical volleyball star. Leggy, gorgeous, long auburn hair. Don’t get any ideas, she’s got a serious boyfriend. She takes every opportunity to tell me they’re going to get married. Someday. I don’t really mind though, between Colin and practice, she’s never here; good thing too, the dorm room we share is only a shade larger than my room at mom and Paul’s, if you can believe it. But I am happy.

I’m double majoring in finance and marketing. Quit rolling your eyes. I want to help my friend Markus, he’s a chef, open a restaurant. He’s a genius. I hope you can meet him one day and taste his amazing food. In fact, that’s part of the reason I wanted to get in touch with you. I was hoping you’d give me some contact information for your mother. She has exquisite taste and would appreciate his palette. Maybe he could cater one of her upcoming events?

It is good to hear from you.

Charley

              It was better than I’d hoped it would be. I read it and reread it until I had memorized it, then quickly tapped a message back to her.

My Charley,

I’d be more than happy to pass this information along to mom. Maybe the four of us could meet for lunch? She’d love it. She still asks about you every now and then. She’ll be really happy to know you’re doing so well. Andy and Mickey, too. You’ll be happy to know that he and Shelly called it quits, after HCI absorbed Nichols Holdings that is.

Finance? Marketing? I thought you’d be an English major, a journalist or novelist or something. Not that you won’t be a great…whatever it is that you can do with that degree, it’s just I’m surprised. Then again, I’m always surprised by you.

Roommate sounds hot! Just kidding, though picturing you and a tall, leggy volleyball player in the same dorm…the boys must be crawling all over you two, huh?

Yours

G.T.H.3

Teddy

Boys are not crawling all over us; just her, for your information.

I kind of surprised myself with the double major, but I’m really liking it. I’m good at it, too.

I can’t wait to speak with Mrs. Holmes. I really liked her too. Speaking of Andy, how is
Lacey
anyway?

I don’t think it’s a good idea that the four of us meet. Not yet. I’m still not sure if I want to see you again, to be honest. I do like this, though. Could we be like just be like George Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell and write letters our whole lives?

Charley

My Charley,

First of all, I am
not
GBS. Don’t really have the writing talent and am certainly not a repressed homosexual. You should be well aware of this, no? Second, you are not married; therefore you cannot be Mrs. Patrick Campbell. Not yet, anyway.

It’s okay that you’re not ready to meet. I’m not going to push you, Charley. Talking to you -even through email, is better than not having you in my life at all.

And I’m sure the boys are lusting after you Mrs. Pat, you’re just so above it all that you don’t notice. You didn’t know how I felt until I was literally kneeling before you, remember?

Don’t think I don’t know that Lacey question is loaded. I don’t have to see your face to know what you’re getting at with that and I’m more than happy to oblige you; I have nothing to hide. I’m not really sure how she is. I haven’t spoken to her in months. I only saw her once after we…after you left. I think she’s still out West, but I don’t know. I hope that answer is satisfying, Mrs. Pat.

Your Teddy

My Dearest George,

Maybe you are a repressed homosexual. I mean, you’re awfully close to your mommy…

As an aside, I must know why you always salute in the possessive.
My
? I do not belong to you, or anyone for that matter.