54
54
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: It’s a nightmare
I want to die, Rhys. Seriously. It’s awful. Everything. I don’t even know where to start. Remember the Saturday of Dean’s wedding? Well, I had to give a dumb speech, and I spent days preparing it, but… I didn’t think about the possibility that I’d be drunk. You can’t imagine how delicious the cocktails were there. So I wound up making a complete ass of myself in front of all the guests. I wouldn’t be surprised if it went viral on YouTube. But most importantly: I quit my job.
Yep. At my ex’s wedding.
I told him he could have it.
I don’t know what my deal was; I guess I just lost control. Donna said in one minute I let out all the things I’d been repressing for years. I spent all yesterday vomiting and lying on the sofa crying, full of regret. I didn’t even have the strength to write and tell you. You know what’s worse? Today, Monday, I went into the office. Dad wanted me to see him, and he told me it was fine, everyone can have a bad day, and even if he didn’t like being embarrassed in front of all our colleagues at the wedding, we could just pretend nothing happened, and I could go back to work and handle the pending invoices.
So…I told him no.
I didn’t even think about it beforehand. It just came out. I don’t want to work there. I don’t want to get up and go there every morning. That’s it. And it’s the truth. At the end of the day, I put all my stuff in a cardboard box and carried it out, and I left my family’s company, right there before my father’s eyes. (He’s not picking up the phone, but Mom says he’ll get over it.)
I’m lost, Rhys. Lost and depressed.
My future looks very dark right now.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: It’s not a nightmare
Congratulations, Ginger! It was about time. I’m proud of you. Not proud that you got hammered at Dean’s wedding, but proud of all the other things. I have to tell you though, I looked on YouTube for “speech by drunken ex-girlfriend at London wedding,” and nothing showed up. For real though, it doesn’t matter where or when you did it. You were brave. I’ve been hoping this would happen ever since I met you. I always knew that wasn’t where you belonged, even if I never came out and told you. I didn’t want you to be mad at me, and I think there are things people need to figure out and decide for themselves.
Your future’s not dark, Ginger. It’s immense. A big blank page in front of you. And you can write whatever you want there.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: You really think?
I had the feeling you wanted me to do it.
But are you serious? A blank page? I guess… The problem is, I don’t know what to write on it. I spend all day watching TV and eating crackers. I think I’ve got issues. That’s what Donna says.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: I really do
Look, Ginger, what do you want? Probably lots of things. Make a list: What you long for. What you dream of. Crazy things that go through your mind. Let yourself go for once. No limits.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: My list of things to do
I just got home and it’s one in the morning. No, two. Whatever. I spent the whole night in the bar where Donna works because according to her, I “need to get out and get a breath of fresh air.” While I was drinking beer—I’ve realized alcohol does wonderful things for me (irony intended)—I wrote some stuff on this piece of paper.
I’m attaching it. I think I should go to bed.
Go somewhere.
Have a kid. Or two. Or three.
Do something totally crazy.
Sunbathe without thinking about anything at all.
Have a fling. Or a three-way.
Dance with my eyes closed.
Cut my hair. Or dye it pink.
Start a small publisher.
Have a cat (that loves me).
Fall in love for real.
I’m so tired, Rhys…
I thought everything was going to be easier when I finished college, and all I feel is my room spinning round and round…like a Ferris wheel… Remember? The kiss we shared up there. I lied when I told you I did it so you wouldn’t burst into tears, but you must know I just wanted to kiss you.
You tasted so nice…like mint ice cream…
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: How naughty…
Well, well, who’d have ever guessed, Ginger?
A three-way, huh? I don’t know why you crossed it out; it sounds amazing to me. In general, I find the list very reasonable and interesting. Except for the thing about the three kids. That’s a little scary. But I have something very important to tell you: I know how you can fulfill all those wishes. Ready? Here goes:
Spend the summer with me, Ginger Snap.
I’m being one hundred percent serious. I have a free room in the apartment I don’t really use. Put whatever you need in a backpack—just summer clothes and a bathing suit; the rest you can buy here—catch a plane, and that’s that. Don’t think twice. Don’t look for a million excuses the way you always do. What do you say?
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Shit
Shit. I guess acting like a moron is just what I do now. I can’t stand being shut up in this house with nothing to do and no goals on the horizon. But still, spend the summer with you? Have you lost your mind? I can’t do that, Rhys.
And the thing about the three-way was a lie. I was just bullshitting.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: I won’t take no for an answer
Ginger, Ginger…why are you so predictable? I knew you’d say that: Have you lost your mind? It’s the same thing you say every time I propose something totally reasonable to you. So tell me what’s stopping you, and I’ll let it go. What is it? Does the idea of spending the summer alone in the city really appeal to you that much? Come on, Ginger Snap, you haven’t had a real vacation since I met you. That can’t be healthy. I looked at tickets. Next Wednesday there’s a cheap flight that departs in the morning. Don’t overthink it. It’ll be fun. You and me. The island. The sun. No worries.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Madness
Maybe I’ll regret it in five minutes, but I think you’re right. I deserve that vacation. And it’s not that crazy, is it? We are friends. It’s a good excuse to see each other, and I’ve saved some money these past few months, so screw it, Rhys! I’m going!