What Brings Me to You

by Loralee Abercrombie

  “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 doin
g 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.

  And how do you know I’m not married? You were eternally cocky, weren’t you? You have no idea if I’m unattached. Perhaps I’m writing to you now with a giant diamond glinting off my finger, hmm?

  I appreciate you being so frank about Lacey, but you’re wrong, I wasn’t getting at anything. I thought this is what old friends do. They catch up on the important stuff they remember about each other’s lives. As I recall, she was important, no?

  I don’t have to be Mrs. Pat. I liked it when he called her Stella, anyway.

  And yes. You gave a fantastic performance on your knees. ;)

  Stella

  My Dearest Stella,

  Ah, how you’ve bewitched me so with your wit and charm.

  I should think it would be quite obvious why I would address you in the possessive. In fairness, I should say that while you don’t belong to me, I will forever belong to you.

  You’re right, I have no idea if you’re attached or not. Though, something tells me you aren’t since you yourself said you don’t belong to anyone. Forgive me if I am mistaken and enlighten me on the lucky SOB who’s captured your heart. Do include the measurements of said attachment so I’ll know if I should prepare for an ass kicking for your lurid comments.

  Speaking of lurid comments, I like what dorm life is doing for you. You’re quick with the double entendre. Yet another, very pleasant, surprise.

  Forgive me for being disappointed that you aren’t jealous of Lacey. I’m jealous of anyone who can be near you right now.

  I’m not the only one close with his mommy. Seems you and your mom are in a good place now, eh? “And so goodnight, friend who understands about one’s mother, and other things.”

  Yours,

  G(eorge) Theodore Holmes III

  G.,

  You’re quite ridiculous, you know that? Re my lurid comments: I’m just returning the countless uncouth things you said/did to me in public last summer (e.g. bra shopping in Nieman Marcus with you and a total stranger).

  I emailed your mother. She, Markus and I have a date. I’m so excited! I know she’s going to be blown away by the presentation. Thank you for the contact.

  Your Stella

  My Stella/Charley

  That’s great news! I wish I could be there. Where is it going to be? What day? What time? Haha, kidding (sort of).

  Maybe not. The truth is I want to see you, Charley. I know I told you I wasn’t going to push but I need to see you. I miss you so much. I miss what we were. I wasn’t sure at first if, after all the time apart and...everything else there’d be anything left to salvage between us but I had to try. I’m so glad that I did, Charley. There’s still something here -so much here between us. I’m not going to deny that I still love you, that I’ve pined for you for all these months. You can’t tell me that, even via email, there isn’t something here. Something powerful. I can feel it. God, I can still smell you when I breathe in (you know you smell faintly of peaches?), I can hear your voice when I read these emails. I can picture every facial expression, every gesture of your tiny hands. I feel so close to you like this, but I want to be closer. I need you. In the flesh. I need to know you’re not just a figment of my imagination. Please let me see you.

  Your Teddy

  Days went by and I didn’t get another message. I’d pushed her away, I thought. I came on too strong. I fucking blew it. Again.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Charley

  I was living in one world through emails with Teddy and in another, in the real world, with my friends and Jaime. My original intention was to do just as mom said; put him out of his misery once and for all because I couldn’t, despite my heart, give into him again. I’d allowed him to crack my shell and glimpse the fucked up mushiness that I worked so hard to bury and it’d nearly broken me. I wasn’t letting him do it to me again. I wouldn’t have deigned to speak to him at all had I not had an ulterior motive: I was going to exploit my relationship with Teddy to get Brooke’s contact information. I could parlay the disastrous relationship into a win for myself, Markus and our future. I had visions of her tasting his food and just needing to invest in us. I was going to get what I wanted and then drop him and, finally, be free of him. Wrong? Of course and I was aware of the wrongness, but Jaime's win at all costs attitude had rubbed off on me. I was determined to make it happen not just for me, but for Markus, too.

  It all changed with one damn email. From the moment I saw his signature, all my grand plans melted away. I was right back there on the beach, staring into his eyes, feeling his breath on my face, being swept away by his full-watted smile. Like a hot knife to butter he’d cracked open the shell I worked so hard to harden against him.

  We traded witty, snarky, semi-flirtatious emails back and forth for several weeks. I couldn’t help but smile at our badinage. I even took to reading his messages brazenly while I was in class because I couldn’t wait to continue the repartee. Even through a medium where there was no physical contact, where I could neither see his face nor hear his voice, the sense memory of his touch made my skin tingle and heat. I would save and reread the messages days later, and his compliments could always make me smile and blush the exchanges feeling intimate, which I know must sound strange to you. There was no way to deny by body’s reaction to the words I was reading on the screen and no way to hide it from Jaime if he ever found out.

  I felt like I was in the middle of some twisted love triangle: I liked the person I was with Teddy: quick witted, coquettish, and spirited. I missed the playful side of me that only really came out
around Teddy. Teddy made me remember what it was like to have fun. I’d had to grow up so fast, I felt sometimes like the oldest nineteen year old on campus. It was nice to strip my guard away for a bit and be a teenager. I couldn’t help but think how well he’d get along with Markus and Collette who were more like family to me than anyone in the world.

  Jaime was anything but playful. He was so utterly intense all the time that it was draining. While he tolerated Markus and Collette for my sake, because he knew what they meant to me, he couldn’t really be bothered with either of them most of the time. It wasn’t a problem at first, but as our relationship moved beyond the initial trepidations and became more comfortable, it was readily apparent he was a homebody, no, because I would consider myself somewhat of a homebody. Jaime was a recluse. He was content to sit at home alone and watch ESPN every single day. He didn’t really have any close friends that I knew of other than some other trainers at the gym and Mouse and this didn’t bother him at all. He didn’t mind if I went out without him though, which was nice, and if I told him it was important to me that he come along, he would do so without complaint. He would even genuinely try to enjoy himself, though I knew he never did. After a while, I stopped asking and even though he tried not to look relieved I could tell he was. Markus was uber offended that he never wanted to hang out but I tried to explain to him that it was just the way he was. Collette knew that Jaime was a loner, that he preferred his own company. She also was keenly aware of my tendency to isolate myself when I was feeling stressed or out of control and it wasn’t lost on her that Jaime was a great excuse to do it. Instead of talk to her, I avoided her too, knowing based on their strong family connection, that she’d be a heavy hitter on Team Jaime. The truth was, that between the strain between him and my friends, hiding Teddy, and being oblique about my family a wedge was being slowly driven between us.