Dear Shy Guy: The Matchmaker Series

by Powell, Laney

  I’m in my last year of college. It took me a little longer to get there because of the business, but I think waiting has been good.

  In her letter, Grace told me to be honest. I’ll tell you why I decided to do this. I’m tired of blind dates, and my friends having the ‘perfect guy’ for me to meet and it being a perfect disaster. I want to find someone who values hard work, wants a family (not like tomorrow! But someday). Someone I can be myself with. Someone who likes me just as I am. I’ve found that I take on a lot of roles, and many of them are assigned to me. It’s time for me to put myself first. Before I put you to sleep or scare you off, I’ll close this with: I’m excited to hear from you.

  Sincerely,

  The Christmas Elf

  She sounded like fun. I wondered why she called herself ‘The Christmas Elf’? Maybe because she was helpful? She loved Christmas? I liked that she owned—well, almost owned—her own business. She would understand deadlines and having to get things done.

  Whoa. Whoa. Was I considering doing this, considering her, as something possible?

  Well, why not? Grace had spent a lot of time with me. She knew me as well as anyone did. And I’d been honest in my answers in her questionnaire, even though I’d never expected her to actually use them.

  This might be a good thing. The little spark of hope that had started when Grace had given me the packet flared to life again. This could be a chance to get to know someone who would like me for me, and my stutter didn’t have to have anything to do with it.

  I completely understood her worry over what to say. I could almost see her sitting and staring at the floral paper. I wondered what she looked like. This paper was delicate, feminine. I hoped she wasn’t as shy as I was. We’d never get past hello, if we ever met.

  Holy hell. I was really thinking about this.

  But how could I not? She’d put herself out there, writing to me first while I was still sitting here thinking about it. She’d gotten nice paper and made an effort to hit the right note.

  She’d done a good job. I liked the Christmas Elf already.

  What had Grace said? It was only a couple of letters? She was right. No matter what happened, this woman had taken the time to write to me. I didn’t want to be a dick and not write her back. If things didn’t click, no harm done.

  I got back to work, making a note that I needed to go out and find something other than legal paper. That’s all I had around my office, and that wouldn’t make the kind of impression I wanted to make.

  Which was what, exactly?

  I didn’t want to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to look like a slackass who made no effort.

  One day later, I stared at the letter I’d written. My wrist hurt. It was my fourth draft. I’d gotten some thick white stationary, with no logos or anything on it. Grace had been clear we couldn’t give away anything specific about our lives, including pictures, until we’d written to one another, and decided whether we wanted to meet or not.

  With my heart beating up somewhere in my throat, I sealed the letter, and put it in one of the overnight envelopes. It seemed silly to do this as I knew it went to Grace’s office first, but she insisted I follow the protocol.

  After it was picked up, I wondered how long I’d have to wait. And tried to contain the hope that wouldn’t go away.

  Nat

  When I came home, there was an overnight envelope on the counter of the kitchen. My mom glanced up from where she was chopping vegetables. “What’s in the envelope? Is it something for the business?”

  “No, Mom, it’s something for me.”

  “Who is Grace Graham?”

  “Mom, please,” I said, grabbing the envelope, and heading straight for my room. He’d written back! I was so excited, I could barely stand to wait until I got to my room to rip it open. But I locked the door out of habit. I was the last kid at home, and even though I was an adult, my family didn’t always knock. My mother was already curious; I didn’t need her busting in here. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone yet.

  Carefully, I opened the large envelope, and a long, legal-sized envelope fell out. It was addressed to ‘The Christmas Elf’. He used a black pen, and he had neat cursive handwriting. It was strong, and his style suggested a boldness.

  I liked his writing, anyway. Hopefully his letter would live up to the hype.

  The paper was the same heavy style as the envelope. It made me feel good to know that he’d taken the time to get something nice to write on.

  Slowly, I opened his letter, and took a deep breath. When I let it out, I looked down to see what he’d written.

  Dear Christmas Elf,

  I was really glad to get your letter. I give you a lot of credit for being honest right off the bat. I appreciate that. I’ll return the honesty—I didn’t sign up for this. I was gifted this by someone, and I wasn’t sure, until I opened your letter and read it, whether I was going to participate. But I loved the things you wrote, and it made me want to get to know you.

  I’ll reciprocate and tell you something about me. I’m twenty-six, and like you, I own my own business. I realized after college that I didn’t want to work for anyone else, and I spent two years building up my company. Now it makes enough for me to live comfortably and go out for a beer when I feel like it.

  I’m not big into sports, although I love going to see hockey. There’s something about it that is different from any other sport.

  I can tell you find your brothers a challenge at times, but I envy that. I’m an only child, and I always wished for a sibling. Or three. Maybe not. Maybe the grass only looks greener (that was a joke, I promise!).

  I love to hike and get outside when I can. As you know when you’re the boss, taking time off isn’t always the easiest thing to do. I still try to play hooky when I can.

  I decided to go ahead and try this service out, not only because I liked what you wrote, but because the person who gifted it to me told me that she thought I needed a change. I didn’t think so, but other people see things we don’t always see in ourselves. I think we take on roles to make the other people in our life happy, but you’re right in wanting to be what you want to be.

  I agree with you in wishing to be accepted as you are. I think that’s something everyone wishes for. I do.

  You didn’t scare me. I hope I didn’t scare you, and I hope to hear from you soon.

  Shy Guy

  Shy Guy? That told me a lot about him. If he’d been someone like my brothers, they would have loved to be called ‘Mystery Man’. But this guy wanted me to know that he was shy. It was something big to share even though it was really subtle. I liked that. Growing up with four really big male personalities, I liked men who didn’t have to be the center of attention. I adored my family with everything I had, but every one of my brothers was an attention whore. I gave their wives and girlfriends a lot of props.

  This felt different. Calmer. Like this guy was all good with himself. Since he was out of college, he was older than me, but that didn’t bother me. To me, it was more important to know where someone was going, what their goals were. He owned his own business, like me. Well, almost like me. He understood what it was to be the boss, the place where the buck stopped.

  At nearly twenty-two, I was different from a lot of my friends. They were either just out of college, or still in college, and wanting to go out and party. I couldn’t. I usually had things to do in the morning. And I was going to school. I’d had to fight to get to college—I sure as hell wasn’t going to squander it.

  This was possibly someone on the same wavelength as me.

  A knock on my door pulled me from my imagination.

  “Yes?” I asked, even though I knew who it was.

  “I would like to talk to you, Natalia.”

  “Okay Mom, hang on.” I shoved the letter under my mattress and got up to let her in.

  When she came in, she looked around. “What is the letter, Natalia?”

  “Geez, Mom.
It’s something for school. Research for a project I’m working on.”

  She crossed her arms, looking at me with skepticism. “You can’t do this on the internet? Really?”

  I threw up my hands. “Mom! Come on! You just got another daughter. Ease up on me. I know they’re only dating, but you and I both know Aleks and Cate are going to live happily ever after. I would have thought that meant I could get a little breathing room. And why are you on me about research? Education is important, right?”

  She looked at me and then started to laugh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Yes, I know they’re going to get married. He practically lives over at her place now. Which means you’re my last one, my last baby bird in the nest. And you’re my only girl.”

  “You think that means I need extra help? Mom, seriously? Aleks would still be sulking and single if it wasn’t for you, me, and Cate.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.” She threw up her hands. “I can’t help it, baby. I love you and I worry and when I worry, I start to sound like your father.”

  “Please, Mom. No. I have four of them.”

  “You do. But baby? Take care of yourself. Okay?” Mom looked at me like she knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  Which I wasn’t. And I was totally okay with that. “I will, Mom.”

  She left, closing the door behind her.

  I pulled out Shy Guy’s letter to read again. I wanted to write him that very moment and send it right back to him.

  Grace had been right to send ten envelopes. I wondered if she’d send more if we needed them.

  Then I put that thought aside and turned to happy contemplation of what Shy Guy had written, and exactly what I was going to say to him.

  Christopher

  Four days after I sent my letter, there was a knock on the door, and it was the FedEx guy. I looked at the envelope—it was from Grace. My heart skipped a beat. She wrote back this fast?

  I headed back in, ignoring the site I’d been working on all afternoon. It could wait a little longer. I needed to open my letter.

  When I ripped open the letter pouch, an envelope with the same floral pressed paper fell out. This time, it said Shy Guy on the front. I used a letter opener to carefully open it; I didn’t want to tear anything I didn’t have to.

  Dear Shy Guy,

  I was glad to hear from you, too! I worried that maybe I was too overeager or something. I’m glad you decided to write me back.

  You’re right about taking on roles to please people. My dad is fairly traditional although he’s loosened up a lot since I was younger. But it’s pretty obvious when there are three boys and only one girl. It’s only recently that I’ve felt like I can be who I am.

  Do you have pets? I’d love a cat, but I’m not sure my schedule allows for a pet of any kind. I only have a fifty-fifty success rate with plants, so the idea of a dog or cat is a little intimidating.

  What do you do for fun, outside of hiking? I live near a large body of water, so I’m out on the boat when I have time. That’s more of a summer thing. I work a lot during the winter months, so my idea of fun is a movie marathon, and food that’s bad for me.

  That makes me sound like an old lady, but I promise I’m not. I’m just really busy. And while it sounds like I’m complaining, but I’m not. I love my life. I wish everyone saw me as I see myself, but you know how you get stuck in roles, and people see what they want to? I think that’s where I am right now.

  I just want more, and… well… that’s why I’m writing you.

  I can’t believe I just wrote that, but since I did, I’m going to finish this off before I lose my nerve.

  Can’t wait to hear from you,

  The Christmas Elf

  Wow, I thought; she seemed really brave. It hit me just how brave she must be, and it made me feel like the guy who almost missed out on something. She was being so honest, with those small sentences. It told me something about her.

  Something really amazing.

  It told me she doesn’t feel accepted for who she is. That she feels that she has to be what others think she is.

  I could relate to that. I’d wanted that my entire life. Even when I thought I found it, I hadn’t. My ex from college was just the final straw in a long line of people who saw me as the guy who stuttered. It didn’t seem to matter what I’d done—I couldn’t get away from that.

  And if I was being honest, I’d stopped trying. You can only get kicked down so much before you decide it’s time to just move on to something else.

  But this girl, Christmas Elf—she was in, if not the same boat, at least a similar boat. That made me feel hopeful.

  I’d write her back tomorrow. I needed to think about what I wanted to say, how I wanted to share with her that I got it.

  I worked the rest of the day, thoughts of Christmas Elf in the back of my mind. After I’d finished for the day, I took a shower, and stopped, looking at myself in the mirror. I needed a haircut.

  Inspiration hit, and I finished drying off. Going back to my desk, I pulled out the stationery I’d gotten to write her and began to write.

  I knew what I wanted to say.

  Nat

  I couldn’t believe I’d written what I had. It made me sound all weird and needy. But I was tired of trying to be what everyone else thought I was. I hadn’t realized it before this thing began, but I did work hard to be what the people around me expected. That wasn’t a bad thing, but there was more to me than what my family thought I was.

  And this guy, this Shy Guy, he sounded like he might understand. I tried not to obsess over whether I’d been too honest or shared too much. Three days later, when I came home from work, there was another envelope for me.

  This time, my mom wasn’t around, even though I knew she’d been the one to answer the door. Maybe our talk had calmed her down. I hoped so. I didn’t have the bandwidth to manage whatever was going on with her and figure out what the hell was going on with me, too.

  I was excited. That was it. I was walking around in a constant state of excitement, wondering what Shy Guy was going to say next.

  I went to my room, locking the door behind me. I could see the envelope was his particular stationery again. Using one finger, I carefully opened it.

  Dear Christmas Elf,

  I get it. I get being what others expect you to, and wanting to be who you are, regardless of what they expect. I would have never thought it was so tough to live up to others’ point of view. After a while, it gets harder and harder to be honest about who you are.

  Personally, I’ve always found that what other people expect is a pain. And when they see that you’re not it, it’s almost like they blame you.

  I know we haven’t been talking for long, but I want to meet you. Grace is having a cocktail party on Valentine’s day, of all days. It’s fitting, I guess. Would you want to meet there? It’s out in public, and there’s no pressure if things are weird.

  I don’t think it’ll be weird, but I want you to feel comfortable.

  Let me know.

  Shy Guy

  I sat back, the letter falling into my lap. That was fast. Really fast. But… was he wrong? I waited for his letters like the kids wait for Santa. I was always so excited, all day long, I could barely stand it. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know what he looked like, how he laughed, what his eyes looked like, especially when they looked at me. I wanted to know how he smelled.

  Hell, yeah, I wanted to meet him.

  I found Grace’s letter and looked at the information about the cocktail parties. He was right—she had scheduled the next one on Valentine’s Day. But it was in St. Louis. And in the middle of the week. There was a lot I needed to make happen if I wanted to pull this off.

  Tucking his letter into the box where I kept them, I headed out to see my mom. She was out in the garage, counting the props we used.

  “Hey, honey,” she said without turning around. “Did you get your mail?”

  “Yes, I did. Thanks, Mom. That’
s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  At that, she turned to face me. “What’s up?”

  “Can I take some time off in about a week and a half?” It was hard to believe Valentine’s Day was only ten days away.

  “Well, of course you can. Will you have enough time to get things in order? And can I ask what this is for?” Her face was curious.

  “I’m doing some research for school. I want to go to St. Louis to follow up on some of it.”

  “In St. Louis?” Mom’s eyebrows raised toward her hairline.

  “Yeah, I know,” I shrugged, trying to laugh it off. “But I’m feeling a little restless, and it sounds like something that could be fun.”

  “Where will you stay?”

  “Jeez, Mom. In a hotel. And I’ll be visiting a couple of places around St. Louis and then coming home.” I wanted her approval.

  “Well, honey, you’re an adult. You can do what you want.”

  I gave her a look.

  She laughed. “Oh, all right. Yes, you can do what you want, but there is always lots of commentary from your family. Why don’t you go over the schedule and see what can be moved around? I don’t have a problem with it.”

  “Will Dad?” I hated the worry I could hear in my voice.

  Mom waved a hand. “Dad would toss you in a nunnery if he could and make all your brothers guard the door if he had his way. We all know that’s not realistic. Even he does. He just worries.”

  I groaned. “Mom, I could drown in all the worry. Now that Aleks and Cate are together, I’m hearing the ‘better get yourself moving, Natty!’ Did you know Aleks had the nerve to say it? I could have killed him. He’d still be sulking in his garage if it wasn’t for us.”

  She laughed. “We save their asses all the time. They know that. Whatever you want to do, Nat, I’m here for you. And you can always talk to me,” she added.