Nora: You too. Goodnight.
Chapter 12
A week later, I wake up on Tuesday morning with a hangover that I immediately resent.
My mother “stopped in” last night with two of her friends around 9:00 p.m. Supposedly they were going out for drinks in the neighborhood and they just happened to be walking by my place. So I somehow—despite probably knowing better—agreed to a quick hello and letting them up for a glass of wine for everyone.
Two hours later, every subtle hint at bedtime had been completely ignored and three bottles of my wine had been consumed. And I wasn’t going to suffer that experience without a drink. But as a result I had significantly more than I normally would, especially for a Monday night.
So today my apartment is in shambles, along with my head, and I now have to drag myself up and get ready for work.
At least I know I get to hear from J.
Even with all the texting, J hasn’t stopped leaving me notes in the comments of my articles on Tuesday mornings. For all our discussions of our daily lives, I still enjoy getting his thoughts on various relationship issues. Although now instead of just having notes in the article, we can also text about it after.
I get up, sit at my desk, and pull open my computer. This week’s column is about a woman who’s been with her partner for eight years, and he hasn’t proposed yet despite her saying it’s important to her. WhileJ’s notes start with his usual grammar comments, I’m a bit floored as I continue reading.
I always marvel at your sensitivity amidst directness. I’m not sure I could’ve been as rational with this woman. It’s as clear as day to anyone that this person should leave their partner—I don’t know why, but it makes me think of that scene inLove Actuallywhere the mother is explaining making the octopus costume to Hugh Grant and she says very firmly something like, “eight’s a lot of legs, David.” All I can picture now is this letter writer saying “eight’s a lot of years, David.” (Sorry for theLove Actuallytangent, and I really hope you aren’t one of those people who’ve decided it’s actually the worst, since I still love it, inexplicable plot and all ... ).Anyway. As I was saying. You somehow manage to avoid judging her on her long-term bad choice while also nudging her toward freedom and self-respect. I hope your advice resonates with a lot of people in ruts.
People say actions speak louder than words, but as a person who finds words often having more impact than actions, I think using the right ones can have a profound impact on someone’s life.
I don’t know what’s happening to me—maybe it’s the hangover or lack of sleep or straight-up patheticness—but I can feel a tear rolling down my cheek. It’s so uncharacteristic that I lift up my hand to feel it and know that it’s real.
Inevercry. Not at movies, not at frustration about my family, not when work turns personal. I’m just not someone who is incapable of controlling my emotions.
And yet.
This sentiment J has sent across the ocean ... it touches me in a way I can’t explain. Much like his comments about standing up to my neighbors the other night, the way he always sees my intentions, just through words, is uncanny. He takes the edge away with a joke or an aside, but he cuts through every time. His notion that words can speak louder than actions has never felt truer. Not because of me, but because ofhim. His words lately echo not just across my whole week, but throughout my days.
And maybe it makes me feel a little brave again.
So instead of writing back in the notes, I just text him directly.
Nora: Love Actually makes me happy and I reject all logical breakdowns of the plot (mostly because they are technically correct, but incorrect in that I still love it).
J: Thank goodness. I don’t know if we could stay friends if you were a true hater of cinema’s most delightfully deranged romance-adjacent holiday masterpiece.
Nora: I wouldn’t dream of it.
Nora: But seriously, thank you for your kind words. I might say the same about yours to me—they often do speak louder than any of the actions of the people I see in person. I appreciate the encouragement you always give.
J: I’m really glad.
J: I feel like you’re always giving me free therapy advice, so anytime I can just give one small smidgeon of that back, I feel grateful.
J: Need any terrible therapy today? I promise I’m unlicensed but extremely in your corner.
I laugh and wipe the last tear away. I take a deep breath to try and get my headache to go away. The thought of last night irritates me and spurs me to actually take him up on his offer.
Nora: You joke, but my mother and her friends came over last night uninvited, drank me out of house and home, left a mess, and caused me a particularly unwelcome hangover today.
J: So my advice the other day to take some things back for yourself really was taken into consideration, eh?
Nora: I know you’re teasing, but I did appreciate that.
Nora: It’s harder with parents.
J: Considering how many columns I’ve commented on with whiny things about my own parents over the last seven years, you already know you won’t get an argument on that from me.
