Page 56 of Easy
SUBJECT: Was I dreaming?
Dear Sadie,
I’m not sure where to start, but I have this awful premonition that I’ve slighted you. Perhaps ruined something lovely before it had the chance to begin.
Saturday was my birthday, which I’d hope you would know after receiving my invitation. It was sent with hope that you’d attend, but not much expectation. After all, how could I know that our meeting two months ago would have the same impact on you?
At the risk of sounding like a song, I can’t get you out of my head. Ours was a chance encounter that has affected me more profoundly than I’d ordinarily care to admit. But I’m doing so now after waking from my hedonistic birthday weekend with the sinking feeling that I’ve somehow ruined any chance I might’ve had.
You see, I’m either going mad or I dreamed that you were at my birthday party. And I want to believe you came all this way for me so very badly, while also desperately hoping your apparition was just that—a fantasy. Something my brain had conjured up from the much-imagined meeting of minds we’d had in the less than salubrious surrounds of Dulles airport. Who knew cupid walked among the travel weary?
But in all seriousness, if you are somehow in London, and you were present on Saturday, I would beg you to contact me. That you would give me a chance to redeem myself. A fool only turns thirty years old once in his life. And a fool I was in so many ways on Saturday night.
Yours in hope,
Julian.
My email to my mom goes unsent for the second time. How does a person attempt to digest the words after the fact—after I’d already decided the kind of man he was?The kind of man I thought he was.
And like a timebomb at the bottom of his letter, he’d listed his cell.
Call me anytime. Whenever. Even if you feel you need to point out what a weirdo I am.
I get up. Shower. Make a little breakfast, then take Sir Lancelot out for his morning run. And all the while, I can’t help but think of his email. Should I ignore it? Reply and reassure him I wasn’t there? You know, just to play it safe. Or should I call him out? Tell him I’m in London? That I saw what went down?
By the time I get back to the apartment, to say I’m angry is hitting the mark short.
Try furious. Try at boiling point, as I pull out my tablet once more.
FROM: Sadie Evans
SUBJECT: Did I have a nightmare?
Juju,
What can I say? I came. I saw. I was appalled.
I’d tell you to lose my number, but we didn’t even get that far.
Best,
Sadie.
I’m not watching for a response—I’m not—as I toss my tablet on the silk ottoman in front of me. Screw him and the silicone implants he rode in on. I also refuse to feel embarrassed. I’m not the only woman to be hoodwinked by a man, and I can’t be the only woman who’d ever travelled across the world for the chance of love.
I am woman. I might not be roaring, but I am getting pissy.
Tea. I think I’ll make a cup...then my tablet pings.
FROM: Julian Cork
SUBJECT: Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery.
Dear Sadie,
What an absolute tool you must think I am. And, as of last Saturday, you’d be right. I don’t have excuses adequate enough to explain my behaviour, but as I’m a man, I’m going to try anyway.
I truly wasn’t aware you were at the party. I’d thought I’d conjured you somehow in my brain. A sort of desperate need, if you will. Because there’s no way I could have forgotten someone as special to me as you.
