Page 26 of Only After We Met
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: You were right…
I like the subject line of your email, but it was only a matter of time until you learned what I already know: I’m always right. That goes for your love/sex life too. (Can we call it that from now on? I like the sound of that.) Anyway, Ginger, I’m glad you had fun and you’ve kissed that second person. You deserve it. I’m also glad you’re realizing there’s a whole world out there beyond Dean and his excess slobber. (I can’t get it out of my mind. Why did you tell me?) Talk to me about this James.
I just got to LA a few hours ago. I’m at a motel, but tomorrow I’ll go stay with my good friend Logan. He’ll have his guest room free then. This carpet looks like it might come alive. It’s got stains on it from 1920, if not earlier. An archaeologist could make a study of it. And it smells weird. But apart from that, it’s not bad.
Yeah, I saw my mother…
It wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d imagined. You know how you can recreate a situation in your head so many times, and then it happens, and you’re surprised how it’s way less of a big deal than you expected? Well, that’s pretty much how it was. She showed up, I hugged her, we had lunch, we took a walk, and then she went back to her hotel. We barely talked about Dad. It was good, really good.
I hope your stomach’s better.
Good luck with it. (Yeah, I’m laughing.)
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: RE: You were right…
Is there something funny about my stomach being like a washing machine spinning round and round right now? Seriously, twenty-four hours have gone by, and it’s still holding the night against me.
But let’s get to the important thing: your mother.
You don’t know how happy I am, Rhys. For you. And I hope you don’t let so much time pass until you see her again. As foryour dad…you never told me why you got so mad at each other. What happened? I’d prefer not to ask you directly like this, but I’ll probably die of old age if I have to wait until you tell me on your own. You’re like a snail, all curled up in your shell, and even when it’s sunny, you don’t stick your head out. (I’m trying to make a joke here.)
I’m so envious of you right now. I imagine you walking down one of those beaches in LA full of people playing volleyball and surfing, and you’re wearing sunglasses and a sleeveless shirt and eating a burrito from a stand or something like that. In case you care, it’s still cold here and—big surprise—the sky’s gray. I’m wearing a sweater and two pairs of socks. (Laugh if you want, but I still think it’s super romantic for someone to want to warm up my feet.) Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I’ve got finals next week, so it’s not like I’d see the sunlight anyway.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: Los Angeles
You’ve perfectly described what I was thinking of doing today.
I admit it—calling me a snail makes sense. I don’t know, Ginger. The truth is, it’s hard for me to talk sometimes, even to myself, let alone other people. And you’re the person who knows the most about my day-to-day life now… It’s just complicated. I mean, maybeit’snot complicated; maybeI’mthe one who’s complicated. I think I started to realize at age sixteen that something wasn’t right with me, that I like being with people,but at the same time it wigs me out and I need solitude, that opening myself up makes me feel empty afterward, and emptiness scares the shit out of me.
Good luck with your exams, Ginger.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: [No subject]
I have no right to ask you to understand me, so I’m not going to. I think it’s enough if you’re just there on the other side of the screen, even if you don’t like me as much as you used to.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: Sorry
Shit. I’m sorry, Rhys. Last night I didn’t respond because I was in the library super late, and I came back home so tired that I fell into bed and went straight to sleep. I hope you don’t think I was mad because you didn’t want to tell me the thing about your dad. I still like you as much as I used to! Snail and all. A snail’s a fascinating—what is it? An insect? Anyway, the way they carry their home on their back, it’s just like you, ha ha ha. (I know, I’m not funny; I’ve memorized so much stuff for my test tomorrow that my brain won’t hold anything else.) I understand you, Rhys, even if I don’t exactly. You know what I mean? I hope so, because I’m being serious. That’s the feeling I had the night wewere in Paris, that you understood me even if you didn’t, and that you just listening to me was enough.