I type the wordmisunderstandingin the subject line.
It’s a start.
Gracie
Waking up hours later, I feel hugely discombobulated. It’s dark inmy apartment. There’s an empty box of Cheez-Its on the coffee table next to me. My stomach is rumbling, and my eyelids feel heavy.
I check my phone. It’s 4:00 in the morning. Too early for breakfast, I decide. I take a much-needed trip to the bathroom to relieve myself, then I run the shower, because I’m not sure what else to do. I don’t have any missed calls or texts from Colin, and I’m afraid to check my email, because what if there’s nothing from him there either?
You know that saying,If something seems too good to be true, it probably is?I feel like that’s what’s happening with me and Colin. I try to put it out of my mind while I scrub my hair and lather up my body. The warm water soothes me, washing the yuck of an all-day nap off my skin. I breathe in the steam and tell myself that everything is going to be okay.
I get dressed and towel-dry my hair. The phone is taunting me on the edge of the sink, so I finally give in and check it.
Oh, thank God.
TO:Grace Landing ([email protected])
FROM:Colin Yarmouth ([email protected])
SUBJECT:Misunderstanding
Hi Gracie,
I’m writing to you because I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing, but I also want to give you space if that’s what you need right now. (I’m not really sure how you are when it comes to stressful situations.)
Have you heard from Elle yet? If so, how did it go?
I can’t tell you how awful I feel about everything. I keep replaying it all over and over again in my head. Honestly, if I had known that you were one of her authors, there’s no way I ever would have responded to your original email. In fact, I probably would have avoided you like the plague, labeling you guilty by association with Team Crazy.
So, in a way, I’m grateful for your pseudonym because without it, we wouldn’t have reconnected.
Do you know what I was thinking about today? Don’t laugh. I was thinking about the first time we met, back in science class on the first day of high school. Do you remember that? I forget the teacher’s name—the one who got hit by the bus—but what I do remember is that when we sat next to each other, you asked me the most interesting “get to know you” questions and then scribbled down notes in your binder on my answers. I only recall one of the questions—If you could have a superpower, what would it be?—and I chose teleportation. I asked you the same question, and you said you would want to be able to eat whatever you wanted and never get a stomachache. I laughed at your answer—not atyoubut at the answer itself—and thought that you would be a funny girl to have as a friend. But I never had any friends who were girls, so I didn’t know how to go about becoming friends with you. And then that got all screwed up when the new teacher came.
I also remember our Spanish class (I know you do too, thanks to our recent emails), and how I used to try and talk to you, but we were only allowed to speak in Spanish, and I was terrible at it. So instead, I tried to strike up fast conversations with you a few times before the late bell rang—like by complimenting your handwriting or some other stupid thing. I had no idea how to talk to people back then. It’s a wonder I made it to adulthood.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really missed out on the opportunity to become acquainted with you back then. I think we might have been friends if I hadn’t been such a moron. And I’d even go so far as to say that (if I had gotten to know you) we might have been the kind of friends who would’ve remained close through college and the real world beyond it.
I don’t have any friends like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I obviously have friends—but nobody from all the way back in high school. I knew lots of people back then, but we all lost touch over the years. And to be honest, most of those friendships were really just based on convenience. (That happens a lot when you play sports.)
I just reread everything I’ve written in this email, and I realize now that I’m rambling. I’m sorry. All I’m trying to say is that I really care about you, Gracie. I feel like I screwed up the chance to get to know you in high school, and I don’t want to screw it up now. I’m so sorry about this huge misunderstanding with Elle. I wish there was something I could do.
I’ll think about it and try to come up with a solution. But, in the meantime, I’m here if you need anything.
Colin
P.S.—I’m going to stick to email for the time being to try and give you some space. I hope that’s okay. You can call me anytime though, day or night. I’m not going anywhere.
Whew. Okay. So maybe it’s notallbad.
When you’re a writer, you appreciate words. At least, that’s always been my experience. Like, if you don’t get me a gift on my birthday but you write me a beautiful card—we’re good. The written word is a gift in itself.
So, Colin’s email makes me feel better, even if only for the moment.
I brew a pot of coffee, then sit down at the kitchen table with a blank piece of computer paper folded in half and a bowl of Cocoa Pebbles. It’s just after 4:30 in the morning, but I have some major problems to solve, and sugar and caffeine can only help. I begin scribbling a list:
Things I Need to Do to Fix My Fucked-Up Life
Write a new manuscript
