So, that’s what I did. I wrote in his voice, some excuse about having homework and that I needed to sign off. And I would have left it at that, but you wrote back really fast.
“You never gave me an answer...” you said.
I looked over at Jonah. He was wincing.
“To what?” I wrote.
“Jesus,” you said. “You have short-term memory problems.”
“I know,” I wrote.
Then you wrote: “The million-dollar question: Would you rather have no penis or five?”
I laughed out loud at that point, I think. And I asked Jonah the question. But he didn’t answer. He was asleep, orpretending to be. I glanced back at the screen and you had written again.
“Just kidding, Now quit stalling and tell me if you’ve ever been in love.”
I watched the blinking cursor. And I thought about coming clean about my identity right then. But it didn’t seem right to mess up this moment. That was one of my justifications. And given what I knew about Jonah, I felt like I could answer the question honestly. That was the other. So, I answered it. I wrote:
“Not until now.”
You took a moment to write back. And then you wrote: “Sorry, but I’ll never fall for a man with five penises.”
And I said: “That’s okay because I don’t have one at all.”
And then you sent a smile and signed off.
On the one hand, it felt like nothing much had just happened. I had flirted for a friend. And I had done a decent job, I guess. On the other hand, it started to occur to me that I had just told you Jonah loved you. In so many words. But I don’t think I was writing for Jonah in that moment.
I know it’s absurd. I had no right. I understood that on some level. You didn’t know me. And really, I didn’t know you. But I felt like I did. Or maybe, as I tried to explain before, I just wanted to be part of it.
And I knew already that Jonah was starting to retreatfrom you. He was ducking away from everything, and I didn’t know why. I just knew he was going to let you go, and I didn’t want that to happen. So, at first, I thought what I was doing was selfless. I was keeping love alive.
However imperfect.
I know now that I was doing something else. And I wish everyday that I had met you under different circumstances. That you knew me as a different person. But I don’t think we would have met in any other way, Tess. And I think now that maybe what I was doing was reaching out to someone else who knew this amazing person. Someone who might be able to help me as he slowly disappeared from my life.
I guess this turned into a long letter.
The only thing I want to say before I stop this thing is that I don’t know what created this feeling for me. But I don’t care. I would like you to be a part of my life. If I have to write more of these letters, I will. And if I have to come to Minnesota once a month to convince you to be my friend, I will. But, in the end, my answer was true that day.
I have only been in love once.
I was crying when Grace came back to my desk. She just stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. Buteventually, she put a hand on my shoulder and then leaned in.
“It’s slow,” she said. “There are no clients. Why don’t you go home for the day?”
I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my shirt.
“I’ll just ride back with you when you’re done,” I said.
“No,” she said. “I meanhomehome.”
I was still holding the letter. Now I started to fold it back up.
“Oh,” I said. “There.”
She opened her purse and dug out some money. She handed me a twenty-dollar bill.
