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From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Truce
How long are we going to go without talking, Ginger? We need a truce. Three weeks is too long. I miss you. And I know you miss me. Don’t make me beg. Besides, I’ve got stuff to tell you.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Hurray!
Happy friendiversary! Even if right now I don’t know whether you want to be my friend. Come on, Ginger. I might have been a jerk on New Year’s Eve, but you and I need to patch things up. Dragging it on will just make things worse. Say something.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Truth
You say you might have been an idiot. Because you can’t even remember, right? Of course I miss you, Rhys. You already know that. The same way you knew mentioning our friendiversary would make me go soft. But I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt me to see where your life is leading you. I don’t get it. You have everything you need to be happy.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: Truth
Ginger, don’t be like that. This has nothing to do with happiness. What happened was just a moment, like lots of others. Let’s forget about it, okay? If it makes you less angry, I should let you know I haven’t gone out partying in weeks and haven’t hooked up with anyone at all. I’m busy with something way more important. I’ve been talking to Logan again. You were right. When you asked me about him last month, I realized he was a good guy and I’d just left him hanging. So it turns out he’s going to come see me for a few days in a couple of weeks. He says he needs to clear his head, and this way we can spend some time together.
Are you happy? I hope so.
Because I have this feeling I keep fucking things up. And I feel like shit, Ginger, but when I’m doing it, I don’t know, it’s like I don’t realize it. Or maybe I do. But not in the moment. In the moment, I don’t feel anything. Then all at once, it comes up on me. The guilt. And I can barely breathe.
What’s happening to us? Why can’t we stop arguing?
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Okay…
Fine, Rhys. I’m tired of us being mad all the time lately too, but you know, you matter to me, and I can’t just keep my mouth shut when I feel like you’re running in the wrong direction.
I’m glad Logan’s going to see you; it’s always good to catch up with old friends. Don’t leave me hanging. I want to know what you’re busy with right now. I have a lot to tell you too. A lot. But you first.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Here goes
Fine, I won’t beat around the bush.
I’m going to record an album!
That’s right. I got an offer, and I think it’s a good idea. Something that’s all mine. I wasn’t sure at first, but then I thought, Why not? I’ve got tons of material, and plus, what I like best is creating, composing, mixing…
I’m psyched, but I want to stay calm about it. I don’t like the idea of just putting whatever out, so I asked them for time. I’m excited, though, to shut myself up in my studio at the apartment for hours and hours, forgetting I’ve missed lunch and just boiling some cup noodles. I like how I feel when I’m deep in a project; it’s like my brain reactivates after being asleep a long time. Or dazed, if not asleep. You get me.
What do you think? I was feeling weird about you not knowing, can you believe that? Saying yes without checking with you first. So crazy, Ginger.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: Here goes
What do you mean, what do I think? My God, Rhys! I’m jumping for joy! It’s amazing! Huge! Just imagine! I’ll be able to go online and download your album with your name right there on the front. I’m so happy. Especially because I know working on things like this is what you really like most. Creating, communicating, giving form to something.
It’s the same for me though. We’re idiots!
When the THING to do with my launch first occurred to me, my first instinct was: Shit! I can’t tell Rhys because I’m so pissed at him for being an idiot, and allegedly we’re not talking now! So I get what you’re saying.
Anyway, it’s time to talk about the THING. I don’t know why I’m calling it that, so don’t ask. I’m going to try to sum it up, okay? Does the name Anne Cabot ring a bell to you by any chance? My guess is no, but she’s the wife of one of the most influential men in England. Or better said, was the wife, because their divorce was finalized this week. So Cameron Reed is a well-known finance guy involved in all kinds of feminist causes, pro-equality etc., plus he has a ton of political contacts. You’re probably asking yourself, So what? but the thing is, he was abusing his wife. It’s a major scandal, and he doesn’t want it to get out. He was also frequenting high-class hookers. A real peach.
Anne didn’t say anything for years. She was scared of a scandal and of people not believing her because of how famous he is. But after the most recent beating, she left home and filed for divorce. She’s smart, she’s an incredible woman, but for years she’s been running scared. She studied literature and graduated with honors, but she stopped being a teacher to follow him on all his trips. You get it. She gave up everything for him.
So now the rumor is she’s writing her memoir. I wrote it off as impossible, assuming she already had a contract with a huge publisher, but one night, after thinking it over and talking to Donna and Kate, I found myself unable to sleep, and I decided to do something crazy.
I’m embarrassed to tell you, but here goes:
I showed up on her doorstep. In Notting Hill. I didn’t knock, obviously. I stood there in the freezing cold until she came out midmorning. Then I pounced on her like a textbook stalker, just went for it. But I was tongue-tied, and I’m not even sure what I said. I did manage to tell her I was starting a small publisher and we were in contact with a number of authors but were looking for something big to debut with. She just looked at me, barely even blinking. I got my card out of my bag. I was shaking as I gave it to her. I told her I figured she’d already signed a contract with someone else, but just in case, I didn’t want to let the opportunity go by. I was about to turn and run before she called the cops, when she asked me if I wanted to have coffee with her.
Yep. Just like that. Obviously, I said yes. We went to a place close by and talked a long time. I told her a little about my story: spending my whole life getting ready to work in the family business and then dropping everything to start the publisher. She seemed interested, and the conversation just flowed; it was like we’d known each other for ages. She was charming, honestly. So way after we’d both finished our coffees, she told me she was finishing her first draft, that she already had several offers from publishers I obviously couldn’t compete with, and that she still hadn’t decided anything.
I congratulated her. I realized I didn’t have a chance. But then she asked me what the advantages of working with me would be. I was honest: as for money, there wouldn’t be much, at least not until the book came out, but she’d be totally free to publish her book unedited. I’d be transparent with her, always available, and she wouldn’t have to deal with a bunch of middlemen. I told her the truth, that I’d always wanted to publish something that mattered, get good books into people’s hands, cherish them, polish them, work to make other people’s writings shine. Be their champion.
So then…she smiled.
She said goodbye and told me she’d think it over, and two days later she called me to say YES.
Can you believe it, Rhys? I can’t! Not yet! I’m on a cloud, I can’t get used to it, and we’ve already signed the contract. I don’t know. It’s amazing. Powerful. It’s just what I was looking for. Anne told me that after her divorce, she had more money than she could spend in several lifetimes and that what mattered to her most when she published her memoir was that it shouldn’t be empty, just one more product on a shelf.
Jeez, I’ve been writing forever, I don’t want to bore you to death, but I wanted you to know the situation. Hopefully everything will go well. And then in a few months, you’ll be recording your album. And the publisher will start making money. I hope, I hope, I hope…
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: I’m proud of you
Damn, Ginger. That’s incredible. I can almost imagine you outside the door of her house trembling from head to toe. But you did it! That’s what I like the most about you. You’re scared of so many things and sometimes you need your time to do them, but you always make them happen! Do you realize that? Just like I said the day I met you, you’re complicated. But those complications are lovely; they’re part of what makes you who you are. You grow and grow and get stronger and better all the time.
I can’t wait to have that book in my hands.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Surprise!
I didn’t tell you something important that I think you’re really going to like…
We’ve filed the documents for the publisher. We spent days trying to think of a name, but Kate stressed that it had to be my decision, because she’s technically not a co-owner, and besides, it was my life’s dream. She wanted to let me have that.
So I’m calling it Moon Books.
Because if you think about it, Rhys, reading a book is almost like being on the moon. As you engross yourself in its pages, your feet leave the ground, and you travel, to other places, other worlds, other lives…
Plus, it reminded me of you. Of us.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: Surprise!
I don’t know what to say… It’s perfect.
And thanks for saying it reminds you of me.