You've Got Mail
Pt 1
Fiction

 It was a day like any other day, which were mostly all the same.

Wake up around 8. Check email, find nothing exciting. Have some coffee. Read the paper. Talk to Tyler. Head down to the studio for a few hours, work  on music, like anyone will hear it. Then after a few hours, eat-- sometimes with a girl that bored him.  Sometimes see a movie--sometimes with a girl that bored him (and sometimes have sex with her but most times not). Make phone calls. Check email. Shower. Sleep.  It was the same routine, everyday.  He went the same places. Did the same things. And while his schedule frequently varied, more often than not, he had nothing planned and that was his day. Sometimes the routine is comforting. Sometimes the monotony made his brain fuzzy and tired. He felt unchallenged, and his life lacked passion.  Excitement. He felt jealous of others who woke up excited and went to bed excited and felt fulfilled and had CAREERS.

Sure, he'd built something for himself. He worked steadily, just to have something to do, mostly. More out of habit than anything else, and because... well, because yes.  It wasn't such a bad exchange for so long lived in a fishbowl, with no privacy, no space to call your own and looking at the same faces for seven years straight. Still, it was nothing compared to what he'd tasted, and wanted to taste again-- but seemed just beyond his grasp. Just beyond what he was willing to do to taste again. “I mean, I have my standards,” he always told himself. “I'm not gonna sell myself out just to make a buck and have some people scream my name. Fuck that.”

So, it was just a day, like any other. Like all the others. He'd showered, and as usual, picked up the light notebook PC and logged into his email. He made another note to himself to check his junk mail filter. He didn't need any Viagra. He need a Nigerian to make him a multi millionaire for just doing him one small favor. He was pretty sure he knew how to 'please her with his fuckstick'. “Maybe if I did less surfing for porn, I would get fewer pornographic emails,” he told himself.

He sifted through the junk, moved the forwards from his mom, and Tum, and Tyler and various friends into his 'read when I'm so bored I want to shoot myself' folder and glanced through the rest to see if there was anything he should keep.

He kept skipping a particular email. It looked like junk, but it sort of didn't look like junk. He knew spammers had these tricks where it looked like the email was something a friend would send to you, and this one could have been one of those... except it just didn't seem like it was. He opened it, scanned it, and was confused.  

Subject: Your mom gave me your email address-- It's Shannon.
 

Hey, stranger! I ran into your mom the other night. I haven't seen you in FOR. EVER. Seeing her made me miss you.

What are you doing these days? I'd love to catch up with you! How's Saucy Rossy? Is he still stupid??? Haha! I miss you guys... write me back. That whole… thing isn't worth all these years we've lost. Let's just put it behind us, OK?

Hope to hear from you,

Shannon

The confusing part--he didn't know a Shannon. His mom wouldn't give out his email address. And who was Saucy Rossy? He decided it must have been a misfire and deleted it. Finding nothing more of interest in his inbox-- like anything he could get excited over-- he logged out and set the notebook on his nightstand and rolled over, falling asleep easily.

More days that were the same, but different. It was Groundhog Day, except some days he actually had 'things' to do. Truthfully he invented 'things' to do otherwise he started to go stir crazy. He asked girls out, not because he really liked them, but because he wanted someone to talk to. Some of them were actually nice and he felt bad about not calling them back-- but he just wanted company, not really a lifetime commitment. “It's selfish, I know, but I just don't have time or energy to devote to a girl right now. Not the right way,” he told himself.

A few days later, he’d finished his usual day-just-like-any-other-day and picked up his notebook, and dug through his email, and deleted the porn and spam, and filtered the forwards, and then checked through anything new. Another email from Shannon was in his inbox. How do you send two emails to the wrong address? He felt a little like he was eavesdropping on a private conversation, but he was curious, so he opened it. It read:

Subject: So I guess you're still really mad at me?
 

 OK, I didn't hear from you. Not that I thought the appearance of my name in your inbox would make you do cartwheels or anything. I just thought... well... I guess I thought you'd want to be friends again. Your mom made it sound like maybe you were ready to forgive me. And I hoped I would have the chance to tell you that what you thought happened, didn't.

Yes, after four years, I'm still singing the same song, because it's true. I didn't sleep with him. I let you think I did. But I didn't. And that was wrong and I am sorry about that.

Well anyway, your silence speaks volumes. Either you didn't read my email or you read it and don't care. Either way... I guess I'll leave the ball in your court.

Take care, say hi to Rossy. 
 

Shannon

He shrugged, and pressed 'reply'.

Subject: Re: So I guess you're really mad at me?
 

Hi, Shannon. Uh, I don't know how to say this but I have no idea who you are or who you're supposed to be writing to. I don't know a Shannon from four years ago and I know a Ross but if I called him Saucy Rossy, he'd knock me out.

I didn't want you to go on thinking that this guy was ignoring you... but for what it's worth if this guy wanted to be friends with you, I hardly think he'd wait four years to contact you. But then again, you didn't ask me, so... ignore that.

Anyway, check the email address again.
 

 Take care.
 

He pressed send, logged out, set the notebook on his nightstand and rolled over.

His first email of the next day was a surprise-- a response from Shannon. It read:

Subject: I'm a dork.
 

Hi, whoever you are. I'm sorry about the typo in the email address. I checked again and I got it wrong. I meant jsc080875 and I typed 76.
 

Sorry again to bother you. Have a nice day.
 

 Shannon

“See, now,” he told himself, “good for you, being a nice person.” And to top it off, he had 'things' to do! It would be a good day.

A week went by. And then another and another, of mostly the same day but some were different, and he forgot about Shannon and the misdirected emails until a few weeks later, when he got another email from her. The familiar address sat in his inbox and he tilted his head. Surely she wasn't dense enough to do this again? It read:

 Subject: Hi there
 

So I'm sitting here and I'm emailing with my friend, who DID, after four years, want to be friends with me again and I can't help but wonder who the hell I was emailing for a week?

I wanted to thank you for telling me I had the wrong email address. Jake thinks the story is funny-- and so does Saucy Rossy. :) 

Anyway, thanks. My friend and I are making amends. I appreciate you redirecting me.

Shannon

How nice of her, to send a followup. He tapped out a brief reply:

Subject: Re: Hi there
 

Good to know I was completely wrong. Cool that you and your friend reconnected; glad I had a hand in that.

Can I ask who the HELL is Saucy Rossy? And why does he let you call him that?

He wanted to sign it but didn't know what to sign. JC? No. Josh? Joshua? Joshua. “Joshua, it is,” he said to himself. He pressed send, then sat and stared at his screen, as if she would write back immediately. Realizing she wouldn't, he logged off, and went about his day.

It was the same day as always, but he didn't feel like it was such a drag, today. He was actually in a good mood. Maybe because he'd had sex the night before. He made a note to himself to ask that girl out again. She seemed like she actually understood what he was talking about-- when he could get a word in. Well...maybe he wouldn't ask her out again. She babbled nonstop about... makeup or something. He couldn't remember. And didn't care.

That night, there was a new email from Shannon. It read:
 

 Subject: Re: Re: Hi there
 

Haha. Saucy Rossy is a dog. : ) Four years ago he was a stupid, clueless puppy. Four years later, he's the same, just older. I also have a friend named Ross, who would not let me call him Saucy Rossy if it was my last day on Earth so... I totally get you on that.
 

I hope you had a terrific day.
 

Shannon

He laughed, and before he could stop himself, he pressed reply.
 

Subject: Of course
 

Of course, Saucy Rossy is a dog. Because, seriously, what human would let himself be called that and be able to hold his head up in public?
 

My day WAS terrific, thank you. I hope yours was, too.
 

Joshua

He deleted, sorted, checked and filed email. He really needed to get a junk mail filter. He already had Adobe Photoshop. He had no need for Cialis. He was fine with his long distance service and didn't have bad credit. Before he could log off, a faint 'ding' told him he had a new email. Well, well, well. Shannon was online. He opened her email and laughed so hard he almost tipped out of the bed. She'd attached a photo of an orange, fuzzy, goofy looking puppy. It was... well it was an ugly little thing but it looked like it had lots of character.

Subject: Re: Of course
 

I give you Saucy Rossy in all his puppy dog glory. Imagine that ugly thing, but fully grown. Gawd, if he wasn't so sweet he'd be disgusting. I wanted you to know what we were talking about.
 

If you actually cared, I'd describe the kind of day I had. Since you're some guy I errantly sent two emails to, I'll spare you and pretend my day was terrific so I can say,
 

My day was terrific, thanks. Have a terrific TOMORROW. Beat that!
 

Shannon

He HAD to reply. After all, she went through all the trouble of digging up a picture to send him.

Subject: Re: Re: Of course
 

That is the ugliest thing I've ever seen. Thanks for sharing. I love dogs, but seriously... that's ugly. What IS it?

Re: your day-- humor me.

I doubt tomorrow will be terrific, but I'll see what I can muster up, if you'll do the same.
 

Joshua

It took a few days. A few long, boring groundhog days of the same shit, different day, before he received a reply from Shannon. Seeing her name in his inbox excited him, for some reason. It was something different. Her response read:

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Of course
 

 Sorry. The internets took my email hostage and I just got this.

I don't know what it is. It's a mutt. Jake got him from the pound four years ago. We picked him out together. Well, Jake picked him and I didn't argue.

Re: my day? It's over. It's been over, and I don't really want to go backward and rehash it. It just wasn't terrific. The next day was, though, so thanks for that. And today topped yesterday, so all is well here.
 

Hope the same can be said for you!
 

Shannon.

He wonder how long they could do this before she decided he was weird, or the thing women said the most about him, that he was boring. He shrugged and typed back:

Subject: Where...
 

…is here? You said 'all is well here'. Just wondering where that is.
 

Today was boring. Yesterday was boring. Same day but different. I hate it. The day before that was pretty good, though. But I think it was because you sent me a picture of that ugly dog. :)
 

Joshua

He pressed send and waited. And waited and waited. And almost gave up before the 'ding' told him she'd replied:

Subject: Re: Where...
 

Here is Portland, Oregon. Where is here, for you?
 

If you're bored, you're boring. Someone said that to me, once. I almost punched her. I’ll show you boring!
 

Shannon

He laughed at her rapid-fire sense of humor. Mostly he liked that she didn't ramble on and on about nothing. Maybe because he didn't know her? And she didn't know him. He started to feel weird about writing to her. Why was he emailing some random woman in Oregon? Did he think she really cared about his boring life of days that were the same, every day? “Get a hold of yourself, man. Don't waste her time,” he told himself. So he didn't reply; instead, he logged off, closed the notebook, and rolled over.

Days and days and days went by. At first, he felt bad about just dropping the conversation. He was the one who'd kept it going, but he didn't have a reason, really, to keep talking to someone he met on accident.

She could be a serial killer. She could be gossip blogger posing as some random chick, reposting their emails to each other for people online to read and snicker at. He was paranoid enough to do a Google search and see if anything familiar popped up, but nothing except the multiple random mentions, snippets from message boards and fan sites. Those amused him. When he was feeling ugly and plain and talentless, there was nothing like lurking a message board to read about the girls that swooned over him and wanted to sleep with him and have his babies. That didn't even make sense, to him. “What would having my kid do for them? I don't get it,” he thought to himself.

Several weeks later, that familiar email address popped up in his mailbox. He was pleasantly surprised to hear from her. The guilt had faded and he'd filed her emails away. Out of sight, out of mind, and it worked. He hadn't thought of her in weeks, but now he had an email from her.

Subject: Was it something I said?
 

You DID ask me where ‘here’ was and I guess I just asked you because it seemed rude to not return the question. Or maybe your location is like, Top Secret and you'd tell me, but you'd have to kill me or something like that. I could understand that.

But something tells me your location isn't Top Secret and I somehow offended you, or even worse, bored you. Or maybe you just don't feel like talking to a random girl from Oregon.

Anyway, I thought I'd drop a line and say hey... to some random guy I don't know from ... somewhere. I guess maybe I understand, now why you didn't write back. This IS weird.

Have a terrific LIFE! : )

Shannon

Aw. Well he hadn't meant to make her feel all bad and stuff. “Don't be an asshole,” he told himself. He needed to fix this, if for nothing but karma.

Subject: Re: Was it something I said?
 

I'm sorry. I'm not bored by you. I'm boring. And I didn't feel I should inflict my boringness on you. I thought it was kind of creepy to be writing some woman I don't know and I didn't want to seem creepy, so I stopped writing. But I'll keep writing if you want me to. This IS weird but... whatever.

What else do I have to do?

Here is California. LA, to be exact.

No, YOU have a terrific life!

Joshua

He pressed send, and instead of logging out, and making coffee, and talking to Tyler, and sitting in the studio pressing buttons and working on music no one would hear, ever, he sat there. And waited. He turned on the TV and watched CNN. Flipped through some shows on the DVR. Watched an episode of Saved by the Bell. And just when he was thoroughly bored and thought he should get out of bed, he got an email.

Subject: Wherefore Are Thou?
 

You don't have to keep writing. It's just that when Jake emails me, sometimes I think it's you and then when it's Jake, I'm kind of disappointed, for minute. That's sad. And it's an insult to Jake. But it's true.
 

You're not boring. Misunderstood, perhaps?

Please tell me you're a screenwriter sitting at Starbucks in your trendy shades with your tiny laptop tap-tap-tapping away at your Golden Globe-worthy quirky sitcom treatment about two people who met by accident and don't know each other but randomly email and discuss pictures of an ugly dog. Please.
 

I intend to have the most terrific life ever. So there. Thank you.

Shannon

See, if he had gone about his usual day, he wouldn't have laughed this hard until much later... and he really needed that laugh right now. He hadn't planned any 'things' to do today. He wanted to see a movie but didn't have enough interest to actually get up and go. Instead, he ordered some stupid thing from On Demand and pretended to watch it while replying to Shannon.

Subject: Re: Wherefore Are Thou?
 

I wear trendy shades, but I swear it's just to keep the sun out of my eyes, not to be pretentious. Promise. And I hate Starbucks. Well, I don't hate Starbucks... but for the very reason you named-- pretentious people in there with their laptops tapping away like people need to see them working-- I don't go there. I'm not all anti Starbucks or anything, I just don't go there.
 

So what's in Portland? Seriously, what's in Portland? I think I went there once, but it was a long time ago. I don't remember much.
 

That is sad about mixing up my email with Jake's... but truthfully I get a little happy when I see I have an email from this random chick in Oregon so... if you keep writing, I will.
 

Is there a state of being between excited and bored out of your fucking mind?
 

Joshua

He willed himself to log off. Tyler would send a search party soon if he didn't make an appearance... he hadn't even made any coffee.

He tried to have the same day as always, but he couldn't concentrate on anything. His mind was on his email, wondering if she'd written back. But if he went back up there and logged in, and she hadn't written back, he'd feel like a loser. He fought with himself and tried to keep busy. He made a batch of cookies, but burned them when he wasn't paying attention. The second batch turned out better. They were great with a big mug of coffee with lots of cream. He wanted Tyler to sit and talk to him, but he had a date and couldn't hang out. Tyler had a life to lead. Tyler woke up excited and went to bed excited and was an exciting person. He was boring.

Sometimes he wished he was little bit like Tyler.

He decided avoiding his email was stupid, and went back upstairs and logged in. Waiting for his slow slow SLOW wireless network to connect was torture, but he was rewarded with several new emails. One from his mom and one from Shannon. He'd read the one from his mom later.

Subject: Portland, Oregon
 

What's in Portland? My friend, if you'd ever been here you'd remember. It's nice up here.  It's green.   It's pretty and quiet. It doesn't get very hot and doesn't get very cold. Lots of outdoorsy things to do. And it's cheap, I guess. I attached a picture of the view from my back porch. Pretty amazing, if I say so myself.
 

Ok, that's not the view from my back porch. I don't even have a back porch. The view behind my apartment is an auto parts store. I could probably get a picture of a guy freebasing crack back there, if you're interested. Maybe a hooker or two.
 

Is it bad that you have the same reaction to seeing my name in your inbox as I have about seeing yours? Yes?
 

By the way...The state between excited and bored out of your fucking mind is called Normal.

Welcome to it.
 

So what's in LA? I'm being nosy. Are you in “the business”?
 

I'm here for awhile; I have a long, boring project to put together so... write away if you want.
 

Shannon

She'd attached a pretty photo of an Evergreen forest that had downtown Portland as a backdrop. It looked  peaceful, like the kind of place he could retire to when he tired of the world and people and  the routine and business. He remembered Portland, vaguely from concert tours, but they never got to really 'see' cities they traveled, so though he was sure he'd been there, he really wouldn't remember. 

Subject: Re: Portland, Oregon
 

I think I will pass on the hookers and the crack. Nice uhm... backyard there. Yeah I sort of remember passing through Portland.
 

I'm 'in the business' but in the background. Sometimes I like it, sometimes it sucks. Today it's not so bad. Maybe because I have these interesting emails to look forward to.
 

When you say long, boring project to put together, what exactly are you putting together?
 

Would you like a cookie? I only burnt the shit out of them.
 

Joshua

He pressed send and sipped coffee and waited for her to write back. She expressly said she'd be there for awhile. He expected a reply sooner rather than later. He read the email from his mom while he waited. They were coming out to visit in a few weeks. He replied to ask her to bring him some socks. Moms needed to feel useful --and he knew she’d bring more than socks. Shannon replied a few minutes later.

Subject: My damn job
 

My long boring project is a website I've been asked to put together. I design web pages. This site has too many pages, but it's what the client wants and what they're paying for. So I'm doing it, and they better darn appreciate it.
 

Sometimes I like it, sometimes it sucks. The not terrific day I had? That was a day that sucked. It's pretty cool, though, since I can work whenever I want and I work from home. Except that right now I don't want to be working on this because it's boring, but I have to, because it's due in a couple of days.
 

Thanks for the cookie offer. Please save me the least burnt one.
 

Shannon

A web designer. That meant she was smart and creative. He dug smart and creative chicks.

Subject: Re: My damn job
 

Interesting work. I like creative people. They think differently than your average person. Have you done any sites I’ve seen?

Lucky that you can work when you want, from wherever you want, doing work you like to do though, right? After this boring project is over, you have other more exciting ones to look forward to, I hope… or is it all boring these days?

I am in the same situation. I do what I want, when I want, from home. Just… some days the stuff I have to do is boring. Some days I kind of wish I did something else but at this point I can’t imagine doing anything else. I guess I’m meant for it?

Can I ask who Jake is, or am I being too nosy?

Did I mention I burnt the SHIT out of the cookies?
 

Joshua

Subject: Jake
 

I do mostly local and PacNW stuff (Pacific Northwest)… so I doubt you’ve seen any sites I’ve done but when I’m not feeling self conscious I’ll forward a few links to you. I do really enjoy it though. Some people paint, some people sculpt, I design web sites.

Jake is sort of a long story. We started out as roommates. Then became friends. Then we became friends with benefits. Jake sort of wanted to commit. I sort of didn’t. I met a new guy. Really, just seeing him, nothing special. Jake freaked out, said if I slept with him he was out. He was making things complicated-- we were just sort of there for each other, and suddenly he was all... suffocating me.  I thought it would be easier if he just went ahead and stepped out, and then I didn’t have to push him out. I let him think I slept with this guy—Jake assumed it, I just didn’t correct him.

He kept his word. He moved out and other than the occasional relayed message, I never heard from him. I saw his mom at Walgreen's late one night, on a quest for Nyquil. She said he still talked about me all the time and gave me his email address. She told me to drop him a line—so I did. Only I got you instead.

Jake has three first names—Jacob Steven Christopher. He hated his parents for doing that to him so we called him JC. I’m guessing you have the same initials, looking at your email address. And your birthday is 8/8/76?

Did I answer your question? I’m probably going to have to pass on the cookies. They sound pretty bad. But it’s awesome that you baked some. What kind?

Shannon

He shook his head and sipped his coffee, contemplating his next email. Unlike him, she wasn’t averse to answering questions—which could work to his favor. Not only was he bored with his everyday routine but he found someone interesting to talk to.

Subject: Re: Jake

Isn’t the whole point of a fuck buddy that there is no commitment? What kind of guy throws a tantrum because a fuck buddy is buddies with someone else?

Same initials and yes, that is my birthday.

Walnut chocolate chip are what I burnt. Then I made sugar cookies because those are easier. My brother ate all of those, though. 

Joshua

Subject: Re: re: Jake

Now you understand my position. He just… freaked out on me and I couldn’t take it so... I kind of let him take a dive. And then later when I tried to clear it up and salvage the ‘buddy’ we had before the … well the ‘fuck’… he wouldn’t listen. I gave up and then four years went by.

Are all you guys like this?

Shannon

He literally laughed out loud. He was LIVING Groundhog day. How was he supposed to answer that?

Subject: Re: re: re: Jake

I wish I could say no, but if you mean ‘crazy’, then yes. Sometimes we don’t want something until we’re faced with the possibility that we can’t have it. Then we want it more than anything. Then when we get it, we kind of don’t want it anymore, until it’s gone again.

Aren’t girls the same way?

So how did you get Jake to talk to you again, after four years?

Joshua

Subject: Girls are NOT crazy

Men just don’t understand us. : )

Jake just didn’t care anymore. He met someone a couple years ago and they’re going strong. He was writing a lot when we first reconnected. Now, not so much. I think he feels guilty because of his girlfriend.

What does ‘in the background’ mean? I can’t help it, I’m nosy, dammit.

Shannon

Subject: Re: Girls are NOT crazy

Girls are crazy. Girls just don’t think they’re crazy.

I see, so since Jake isn't writing, you want me to write you? I'm just kidding, in case you can't tell.

“In the background” means I write, nosy dammit.

Do you really live near where people freebase crack and hookers do their business?

Joshua

Not that he really needed to know. He was just curious. And the more she talked the less she asked about him. He wanted to deflect attention as long as possible. He figured she’d get bored before he had to come clean. It was dark outside. He’d really, seriously spent most of the day up in his room, sending emails back and forth to a woman he didn’t know, had never met, but amused him so much that he was actually having fun. Maybe didn’t need to meet someone exciting. Just someone interesting that understood what he was talking about and could hold a conversation.

Subject: I’m a bad liar

No, I don’t really live near crack smokers and hookers. I live in a pretty okay neighborhood, actually. There is an auto parts store down the street, though and I did see a hooker-like lady hanging out around there a lot. That's the most excitement we ever see around these parts.

I’m just curious—did you write anything I’ve seen?

Shannon

He could safely answer this question and not feel like he was lying or being evasive—which he would actually feel bad about—but he was running out of clever ways to avoid really answering the question.

Subject: Re: I’m a bad liar

I doubt I’ve written anything you’ve seen.

How goes the project?

Joshua

Subject: Re: Re: I’m a bad liar

The project is actually almost done. I should be able to finish it up in a few hours. Thank you for your distraction.

But now I have to run some things over to my grandma, and she likes to talk. I’m afraid I won’t be back for awhile. This makes me sad because I’ve enjoyed our little discussion, today.

I hope it won’t be the last. Please have a terrific evening!

Shannon

He shouldn’t really feel disappointed because a random woman he didn’t know and had never met couldn’t send him nosy questions he couldn’t answer. He really shouldn’t. But he kind of did. In the past few months she’d been one of the few bright and exciting spots. The ripple in the calm serene flow that was his life. He finished his cold coffee and stared at the TV, not really watching it, but not wanting to turn it off. He needed sound… voices… company. The TV made him feel less alone.

Sometimes the silence was deafening.