Page 96 of Only After We Met
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: The Little Prince
Ifdomesticatingmeans creating bonds, then yes.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: RE: The Little Prince
Does that mean you’re the Little Prince then? In a way, that wouldmake sense. You’re a good person, Ginger Davies. And you believe in friendship. Shit! You believe in everything in general; you’re one of those people who still has faith in humanity. That’s something most of us lost long ago. You probably still want to leave cookies out for Santa Claus at Christmastime. There’s a phrase in the book, “Only the children are flattening their noses against the windowpanes.” I’ll bet you do that every time you pass a pastry shop.
I’ve been lucky. No one could have done a better job “domesticating” me, Ginger.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: RE: RE: The Little Prince
You’re an idiot. I leave him milk. Cookies are too high in sugar and saturated fats; I don’t want to give the old man a heart attack. Jokes aside, when I met you, I thought you’d like this book, because I saw you as a big kid, and I still do, someone who refuses to be an adult and looks at the world with a longing to play, make mischief, and discover new things.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: The Little Prince
You think too much of me. But I wish what you said were true.
From: Ginger Davies
To: Rhys Baker
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: The Little Prince
It is. You do have one of the fox’s traits: loyalty. And you’re like the narrator, because you can look inside yourself but also listen to others. And the Prince too: that’s the little boy who still lives inside you. You’ve even kept your pride, like the rose. And you’re the only person I know who’d be happy living alone on an asteroid.
From: Rhys Baker
To: Ginger Davies
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: The Little Prince
Thanks, Ginger.
50
Ginger
Christmas. Instead ofhome sweet home, the first thing I thought when I sat at that table surrounded by people was,God, make this torture end as soon as possible.Because my father was there talking, all proud about my work at the company as if he’d even let me do anything at all that past year and a half except staple papers, check invoices, and stare at the clock. Donna was there too, having to deal with the Wilsons’ questions about whether being a lesbian meant she didn’t want to have kids. And the icing on the cake was Dean sitting with his wonderful girlfriend. She had skin like a model in a cosmetics ad and a smile that made it impossible to hate her even a little (I had tried), and she was also smart, intelligent, and classily dressed.
“Would you pass me the mashed potatoes, Ginger?”
“Sure. Here, Stella.” I handed them over.
“Next year’s going to be amazing, now that we’ve got two geniuses on staff,” Dad said with a smile. “Sorry, Stella, I mean three.”