16
16
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I’ll never make it!
I’ve been home for two days, and I’m already thinking of suicide. Seriously, Rhys, it’s awful. AWFUL. And I love my parents. But they just stress me out! They’re so ridiculously perfect, and that means I have to be ridiculously perfect, especially since Donna isn’t anymore. I have the feeling that all the family’s hopes are vested in me, and it’s just not fair. I’m going to take a deep breath.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I’ll never make it! (Part 2)
Right, so my mom came into my bedroom while I was writing you, and I got so nervous I hit Send. And off she went. I think. She comes in between five and ten times an hour. Sometimes she just knocks, opens up, and says, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” And I look at her like, Are you crazy? I know, I’m a bad daughter and you’re an angel fallen from heaven for being willing to listen to me. Thank you, Rhys. Thank you.
Anyway, this summer, when we get back from vacay, I’ll have to go every day to work with my dad (plus Donna’s only managed to get off three days in total to stay with us; then she’ll have to take the train back). Conclusion: lying around and reading is over. I’m imagining you on the beach right now, and the envy’s killing me. You must be super tan. I know you have a job, but I always have this feeling like your life is an eternal vacation.
I hope there’s Wi-Fi in Glastonbury.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Be a tough cookie
Maybe it’s because I’ve had a bit to drink, but I want to tell you what I think you should do right now. Open your closet, throw a bunch of summer clothes in your bag, go to the airport, and catch a flight straight to LA.
Spend the summer with me, Ginger. It’ll be fun. We can get drunk together, and I’ll teach you to surf, and we’ll swim at night on the beach. Naked. If you want. You’ve probably never done anything like that, right? Leave your swimsuit on the shore and run out into the water? I’ll be your accomplice. Think it over.
Fuck that job. It sounds boring.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: Be a tough cookie
My God, Rhys, you can’t say something like that to me.
YOU CAN’T, OKAY? Because I can’t stop thinking about how awesome it would be, and it’s impossible. Don’t write me again when you’re drunk, because the stuff you come up with is too tempting, and I can’t even allow myself to fantasize about it.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: [No subject]
Are you mad at me? I don’t expect you to understand, but in my world, there’s such a thing as obligations, schedules, things to do.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: …
Okay, we’re at the hotel and I have internet, but I guess you don’t, because you still haven’t written me back. Seriously, are you going to be mad at me forever? I didn’t even do anything. I would like to be there, but I can’t…
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Sorry
I’m sorry!! Of course I’m not mad, Ginger. How could I get mad over a thing like that? I understand. It was just a crazy idea that popped into my head. I’ll try not to write you again when I’m drunk and it’s after 3:00 a.m. I’ve barely rested these days. Sarah showed up, and I’ve moved into an apartment with her for a few weeks until she has to leave again.
Enjoy your trip. Tell me how everything goes there.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Intrigued
Who is Sarah? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about her.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: Intrigued
She’s a friend. Ish. You get it.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: RE: Intrigued
I don’t know whether to be more offended by how quickly you’ve found a substitute to spend the days with in LA or by the fact that you had a “special friend” and didn’t tell me. I’m kidding, but you could actually tell me about your life sometime.
Everything here’s fine. It’s pretty, the typical charming little town. My mother’s taken so many photos that we had to buy another card for her camera. My father spends the whole day making plans for all the things we’ll do in the office when we return to London. He’s excited. Enjoy yourself, Rhys.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Intrigued
You’re right, Ginger. I’ve been thinking about your message all day, but I couldn’t answer you until now, after Sarah’s fallen asleep. It’s true: you give me much more of yourself than I give to you, and it isn’t fair. I’m… I’m trying. I want you to know, despite everything, that right now, you’re the person who knows the most about me. If I’m honest with myself, I’d have to say you’re my best friend. And that’s after only—what, six months that we’ve known each other? Seven. Almost? Since the end of January… I feel like I’ve been talking to you for years. I don’t even know why. I guess these things happen: you just meet a person and let them in for no reason.
Okay, so Sarah is a “special friend.” We hang out sometimes in New York or Los Angeles. We have fun together, you know. She’s an actor; she does commercials. She’s nice; you’d like her. I met her one night years ago.
I don’t know what else to tell you…
I hope you’re well.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: That was nice
Okay, what you said about me being your best friend was nice. I don’t know how you get me to instantly go from being so pissed at you to wanting to hug you, Rhys. The truth is, you’re my best friend now too, I think. At least the person who knows the most about me. Sometimes I feel like I tell you absolutely everything, and that’s a little scary.
I’m glad you’re having fun with Sarah.
Did you meet her one night the same way you met me one night? I want details!
BTW, I start work tomorrow.
I’ll keep you informed. Kisses. (Why haven’t we ever signed off that way? “Kisses” or “Hugs” or “Take care”? Is it because we send so many messages it would start to sound fake? Like when you give someone a hug or a kiss on the cheek to say hi, but you don’t feel it.)
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: That was nice
I guess I just have that effect on women. My charm, you know.
No, I didn’t meet her one night like you, Ginger. I met her… I don’t know, it was different. I met her at a bar, we had drinks, and we ended up in a hotel. That’s what I mean when I say it was different.
Tell me about your first day at work.
Kisses, kisses, kisses. (I feel them!)
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I wish someone would kidnap me
The subject line sums up my first day at work. Honestly, I feel kind of guilty because Dad was so proud and excited… He blushes at times like this. When he introduced me to the staff, he looked like he’d had a sunstroke. Fortunately it passed.
I felt good and bad at the same time.
Good because he was happy. Bad because I didn’t want to be there.
I know what you mean now about that night being different. But that makes me wonder something. I’m just going to blurt it out and hit Send without rereading this message, okay? Otherwise I’ll regret it. Do you think, if the circumstances were different, the same thing could have happened with us? I don’t want to put you on the spot. You can be honest with me. I have my own ideas. I just want to know if you’d have noticed me if you saw me in a bar.
I’m going to send this before I stop myself.
Don’t pay me any mind.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: [No subject]
Ginger, Ginger, Ginger…
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: [ No subject]
What the hell does that mean?
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: What it means
It means there are some questions better left unanswered. But if you can’t bear the intrigue, the answer’s yes. If I’d met you in a bar and the circumstances were different, I’d have probably come over, we’d have had a drink, and we’d have talked. And then, I don’t know, I’d have bent over and whispered in your ear. And I’d have stroked your knee under the table. We’d have wound up in my apartment, but instead of eating noodles sitting on the bed, I’d have kissed you all over until you moaned my name. And then I’d have taken my time memorizing every inch of your naked skin. Every freckle. Every mole. Every scar. Every curve.
But you know what? I’m glad that didn’t happen. Because what we have is a thousand times better, and I don’t have it with anyone else. This friendship of ours is special. Now it would be best if we pretend we’ve never talked about that parallel reality.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: U okay?
Did you die of a heart attack, Ginger Snap?
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: I’m fine
You’re an idiot. And yes, I’m fine. You honestly think I’m that impressionable? Ha. You’d have to do way better than that. But you’re right, it would be best to forget it, because it doesn’t matter anymore. I was just wondering…
Work sucks. Still. And Dad’s still happy. I was about to try and strangle myself today with the printer cable, but then I remembered it’s just a few more weeks till I’m free again. Or till I go back to the dorm. Same difference. You know, now that I’m about to start my last year of school, I’ve started asking myself if I’ll even be able to work every day. If I’m honest with you, I don’t want to think about it.
What about you? Is Sarah still with you?
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: I’m fine
Ginger, I think you’re more impressionable than you imagine. But I said let’s forget it, and I’m going to try not to add anything else.
Did you ever wonder if you like what you’re doing? I’m going to tell you something I don’t think I ever have: I didn’t just study first-year psychology. I did the same with law. And political science. That’s right. The perfect son, you guessed it. Seriously, I wanted to like all that stuff, but it didn’t fulfill me. Classes felt like they would never end, and I wound up skipping most of them. The only good thing about college was the frat parties. (I know, I know—but my Dad was a brother and so was my grandfather. Anyway, the line ended with me.)
That’s where I met Logan, by the way—my friend I lived with in Los Angeles before Sarah got here. He did finish his law degree, and he has a small firm on the edge of town. Nothing fancy. Sometimes I look at him and think to myself that I could have had a life like that. But I don’t know. There’s something missing. Even now I don’t know what it is. I think I still need more time to understand myself. I hope, as always, you’ll be able to figure out what I mean here and see the logic in it.
What I’m trying to tell you, Ginger, is that you shouldn’t do anything that makes you unhappy. That sounds like one of those motivational phrases they print on T-shirts or coffee cups, but really, life’s too short not to take advantage of every second of it.
I’m not so sure what to do right now. I think I’ll stay here a few more months and then maybe go to San Francisco. No reason to stray too far.