You've Got Mail

Subject: Today

Seems different.

Good morning.

Joshua

And it did. Seem different. He found himself smiling, singing, whistling. He slept well, for the first time in weeks and awoke early, in a good mood. A great mood. A great mood like he'd had sex. Except he hadn't. He'd just talked to her. Like normal. But without the whole weight of a lie on his shoulders, thing.

He ordered 'You've Got Mail' from On Demand, and made her order it, too. It wasn't his kind of movie, so if he had to watch it, so did she. So they watched it together and she was right-- it was them, except they hadn't met in a chat room. And he wasn't putting her out of business. And they weren't at odds but secretly each other's best friends. But other than that, it did remind him of them.

Subject: Re: Today

Really? Seems the same to me. ; )

Good morning. How are you?

Bruno is cracking me up, today. I love him.

We're going to the park and then I'm going to Powell's.

What are you doing?

Shannon

Subject: Re: Re: Today

Wishing I could go to the park with you and Bruno.

Maybe see a movie with my brother. Hang out a little bit. I haven't been social in a minute.

Burn the shit out of some cookies or something.

Have a good day.

Joshua

Each day after, on a scale of 'good' to 'best', wasn't the best but was better than good. He was busier than he'd been in a long time, with press and promotion for the TV show and recording and writing and producing and even some acting. Yes, acting. He was bad at it. He knew he was. Getting better but... still bad. Maybe he needed to get an acting coach. Tyler just said 'sounds good' to everything. Lance was as bad as he was. Shawn didn't care.

Subject: I suck at something

I know, this is shocking, but I've found something I suck at. No, seriously.

Should I get an acting coach?

Do you think it would help?

Joshua

Subject: Re: I suck at something

Uhm. Is there some kind of acting magician or miracle worker?

 Shannon

Subject: Re: Re I suck at something

Oh, you have jokes. Why do I talk to you?

Joshua

Subject: Re: Re: Re I suck at something

I'm real, yo. Acting coach? I think it might do you some good. You're OK, you just seem... over rehearsed. Your lines don't flow naturally, conversationally. You sound like you're trying to remember your lines. And you don't speak clearly. Kinda mumbly.

I'm not trying to insult you. And I know nothing about acting, so take my comments with a grain of salt.

Shannon

Subject: Have I mentioned how nice it is …

To not have to hide anything anymore? It's like I weigh a hundred pounds less, now.

I'm not insulted by your comments. I've heard much worse from people who claim to love me, so thanks. I'm gonna look into it. I have a chance at a couple of small movie roles and I want to do a good job.

So, let's say I wanted to send uhm... Bruno... something. Where might I send that?

Joshua

Subject: Re: Bruno's address

I'll send you our address. I get half of everything!

Shannon

He'd packed a box of things he wanted to send her --a care package of sorts. Some art books he'd picked up along the way and enjoyed, a box of dog treats for Bruno and a bag of her favorite candy- green apple Jolly Ranchers. She was a freak for anything green apple but she LOVED green apple candies. On a recent trip to a warehouse store with Tum he passed the biggest bag of green apple Jolly Ranchers he'd ever seen and had to buy them. He wouldn't tell Tum who they were for-- he wasn't much of a candy buyer-- but she figured it out when he was smug and told her to mind her own business.

People were openly teasing him now, about Shannon. He didn't really care. Something was happening. He wasn't encouraging it, but he wasn't fighting it either.

Subject: You

Are so sweet! We got your package today. You did not have to do that, but thank you so much. We love it.

I'm flipping through the books right now, and I've already had four pieces of candy and Bruno would not rest until I opened the box and gave him a treat.

Thank you! : )

  Shannon

Subject: Re: You

You're welcome. Enjoy.

Joshua

A few days later a box for him arrived. When he saw the return address, he smiled. Portland, Oregon. He sat at his kitchen table with his coffee and his notebook PC and the morning paper and cut the box open and laughed when he looked inside. Peanut Butter cups, and large prints of Bruno at the park from the week before, a book of paintings and a few books on acting. On the top book, in neat cursive she had left a note:

“Not saying you need any help, but I saw these at Powell's and thought you might like to flip through them. They got great reviews from people who study. And some treats to enjoy while you read. “

Love, S&B

He stared for a minute at the note, ran his fingers where she'd written, feeling very strangely sentimental about it all. She'd touched all of these things before she packed them into the box. They'd all been in her apartment, in her hands. She'd hand written the labels and the note, in her neat, straight cursive scrawl. He picked up the note, removing it from the book where it was stuck. A faint scent wafted past his nose and he sniffed it. It smelled, very lightly, of perfume.

“Does she spray her sticky notes to you with perfume?” Tyler asked from behind him.

“Shut up,” he said, grinning and sniffing.

“Does that shit actually work? No girl has every sprayed paper with perfume for me,” Tyler said.

“I don't know if it works, but... it's awfully nice,” he said, gathering up the books and the candy and the photos and placing them back in the box before Tyler could get his grubby hands on them. 

Subject: You

Are sweet, yourself. Thank you so much!

I got your box today. I've already had to hide the candy from Tyler. He's a little pig.

Thank you for the books. I'll look through them and try some of the exercises. That means you have to let me know if I improve, OK?

Did you spray that sticky note with perfume?

Joshua

Subject: Re: You

You're welcome. Enjoy!

And maybe.

Shannon

Subject: Re: Re: You

No no no. You don't get off that easy.

Maybe, or yes?

Joshua

Subject: Yes. Sort of.

I have a pad of sticky notes that are already perfumed. I just used one of those instead of a plain one. I thought it was a nice touch.

Now I'm embarrassed.

Did you see the pictures of my boy?

Shannon

Subject: Re: Yes. Sort of.

Yeah, I saw them-- really nice shots of him. He's beautiful. Is he getting bigger?

I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just wondering. It was a nice touch.

I'm not spraying anything with cologne. Just so you know. I'm way too lazy for that.

Joshua

Subject: Re: Re: Yes. Sort of.

I would think you were weird if you did. Yeah Bruno is about 67 lbs now.

So. I have to be a Debbie Downer. I have to leave, but I'll be back later.

Shannon

Subject: Talk to me

What's up? You can talk to me. Now that I have these awesome acting books, I can appear to be sensitive and caring in a convincing manner.

I'm serious. What?

Joshua

He didn't get an email for awhile. A long while. It worried him but he thought maybe she just needed some time. For the first time in a long time he had an day like he'd had before-- the old routine-- but didn't really mind it. It was sort of a relief to follow the old schedule. The only problem was that she wasn't there to distract him from the monotony. Hours later, a new email finally arrived.

Subject: My Grandma is sick

I'm kind of not okay about it. My mom called me, while I was emailing you, to tell me she was taking her to the hospital. She's having trouble breathing. They think she has pneumonia and don't know if she'll come out.

My mom and my Grandma are all I've ever had. I'm terrified we will lose her. I don't even know what to think. I just got back from the hospital. She just looks so small.

I don't think she's okay. I don't think I'm okay.

I'm a drag, today. I'm sorry.

Shannon

Subject: Re: My Grandma is sick

Honey, seriously, I've been a drag for like, a year. You can lean on me for once.

I know you're scared... I would be, too.

But you're a strong person and you'll make it through.

That rhymed. : )

Please say that made you smile.

Joshua

Subject: You

Are the sweetest goof I have ever accidentally met.

It did make me smile. Laugh, even. You say you write songs for a living? Hummmmmmmmmmm.

I guess no amount of worrying or crying will make it better. Just wait and see. I'm gonna head back up to the hospital in a bit and relieve my mom. She's been there most of the day and she needs to go to work.

Shannon

Subject: Re: You

Do you maybe want my phone number? You could call me or text me while you're up there, if you want to talk. I don't mind, really.

 Joshua
 

Subject.: Yes.

Please. I'll probably text, they're kind of anti cell phone up there. If that's okay.

Thank you. Just... just thank you. I can't tell you what it means that you offered that. 

I want to get schmaltzy, but I will spare you.

Shannon

He was as nervous and scared for her as if it was his own Grandma in Intensive Care. From their conversations, it seemed her Grandma was the cornerstone of the family. She'd been a single mom who raised a single mom and Shannon was the light of her life. It didn't sound like she was doing too well and the sparse text messages he got from Shannon every few hours reinforced that. Then, after a long, long, LONG span of silence, he got the two word text he'd been dreading: “She's gone.”

He was devastated for her, as he read the text, the two words that said so much. He wasn't a crier but dammit if he didn't feel like shedding a tear. He messaged her back that she could contact him any time, but he understood if she was going to be out of communication for awhile. She said she'd be in touch in a few days.

He felt... helpless. Like words on a screen were going to make her feel better, feel like he wanted her to feel, like he was there for her. Times like these made him wish they really knew each other. Had really seen each other face to face. Had actually met, and weren't just email buddies trying to pretend they were more than that. If he was a real friend, wouldn't be on a plane, or by her side? Wouldn't he find a way to comfort her and be there for her? What was he doing? Playing a game on the Wii, waiting for her to send a sad email or a short, forlorn text, so he could type out some comforting words and go back to his life? He felt like he did just enough to make sure she stayed friends with him, so he'd have someone to talk to, and she went out of her way, uncomfortably so at times, to show she cared about him.

There was a reason, of course, he was avoiding doing anything irrational. And it would be completely irrational to just jump on a plane and fly up there. They hadn't met-- they had yet to even speak on the phone-- but he was going to just fly up there and come to her rescue? And do what? It wouldn't make any sense for him, being who he was, to fly up there to see a girl he'd never met.

If it was any indication, Tyler didn't bat an eye when he said he was flying up to Portland, because Shannon's Grandma died, and offered to drive him to the airport. Lance had sad eyes as he packed, and said he was doing a good thing by going up there. Shawn didn't care, but didn't say he thought it was weird. And Shawn would say it, if he thought it.

He didn't want to tell her that he was coming. She would say 'no, don't come up here' and she'd refuse any help and she'd be the strong woman she'd always been, in pain and hurting and devastated, but worried about how HE was doing. When he thought about how much his life had changed in a short year and how much she had to do with that, he just couldn't see sitting there, playing games on the Wii, and being a rock star, and 'sending good thoughts' when his life afforded him such luxuries as the ability to just get on a fucking plane and give a girl a hug.

It was raining at the Portland Airport. Four hours after reading her text, he was on a flight and two hours later, he'd landed. It was late... or early... after 2 am when he gave the cab driver the address that he'd copied off of her email and as they got closer, he got more and more nervous. He hoped it wasn't a mistake to do this.

He thought back to one of their conversations, back in the early days, about how he wasn't one to jump through hoops or lose his mind for a girl. How he hadn't met someone that he wanted to go through all the motions with. Or for. And yet he hardly thought twice about getting on a fucking plane to give a girl a hug.

 The cab stopped in front of her building. He paid the driver and stood in front of the multiple doors, trying to decide which way to go. He stared at the piece of paper in his hand, counting the numbers. He was shaking... not from the cold. From nerves. He climbed the single flight of stairs, noting that the lamp in that apartment was on and if it was hers, she was probably awake. He stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath before pressing the doorbell.

 A deep bark could be heard from inside. He smiled to himself. He hadn't even thought about meeting Bruno. He heard a voice shush him and then the slapslapslap of slippers against floor. And then three locks turning. And then the door opened. And there stood Shannon, in flannel pajama pants and a thin white t-shirt, sucking on a green apple sucker. She pulled it out of her mouth with a 'pop', her pink lips still pursed. She swallowed and a slow smile spread across her face.

 “I just sent you an email,” she said. Her eyes were red-- bloodshot-- her voice was ragged and she had bags under her weary brown eyes. She looked very tired. But so beautiful.

“I'll read it later. I'm kinda busy right now,” he said with a smile.

 She stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind him. He rolled his suitcase into the middle of the room and glanced around. The room was warm and cozy. Bruno circled him several times, panting and sniffing and then made himself comfortable on the couch. The books he'd sent her were on her coffee table, among other art and web design books and magazines. She stood at the door, and hadn't moved since she closed it. Her hand was still on the knob.

“What are you doing here? I can't believe you're here. But what are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Well. I was sitting at home. Thinkin'. And I wanted to give you a hug. Because emailing a hug just wasn't gonna cut it. So I got on a plane and I came here to give you one. “

She stared at him, her eyes wide. Unmoving. Then she blinked. And her face fell into a sob. And in a rush of not more than two steps, ran across the room and into arms that opened just in time to catch her.

He had no idea how long they stood there. He didn't care. He would stand there 'till his body was asleep, if that's what she needed. Eventually, she pulled back and let him go and swiped at her face with her hands, still holding her half eaten sucker. She tossed the sucker into the small garbage can near the couch and then glanced up at him shyly.

“So... this is my apartment. Bruno the attack dog doesn't seem to have a problem with you.”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling nervously. “So, tell me what you emailed me. Was it about your Grandma?”

She nodded and pointed toward the couch, where they shooed Bruno and sat and talked. They sat close and talked long, until she was deliriously sleepy. He had his arm around her and she leaned her head on his chest and didn't remember falling asleep. And didn't remember him laying her down. And didn't remember him carefully arranging a blanket over her and turning off the lamp, and laying down on the floor next to her ( and Bruno laying on his feet) and staring up at the ceiling until he was also asleep.

He awoke slowly to the sensation of being watched. One electric blue eye opened to find Shannon still on the couch, on her side, eyes open, watching him sleep. The other eye opened at the sound of panting and hot breath on his face. She and Bruno appeared to have been keeping vigil for awhile.

“This is creepy,” he grumbled, sitting up.

“Sorry. It's not everyday I wake up to some random guy laying on my floor. I had to make sure I wasn't dreaming.” She smiled as she sat up. Bruno thought that meant it was time to play or go or… something, because he got up and whined and circled the post next to the door where his leash hung.

“Do you want me to take him out? He seems to he having some sort of fit.”

“Could you? Down the stairs and around back. He knows where to go, just let him take you,” she said, pointing at the leash. “He has to be on a leash around here.”

“We'll be back,” he said, closing the door behind them.

When they came back, his suitcase was out of the living room and the couch was no longer a makeshift bed. He heard a shower running, so, following Bruno's lead, he filled the dog's bowl with food and removed the leash. He took a seat on the couch again, Bruno coming to lay on his feet when he had finished eating, and that's where she found him when she came out of the shower.

“I put your suitcase in the bedroom and I set out some towels and stuff for you, if you want to shower. It's open,” she said. “Make yourself at home. My house is yours.”

“Thanks. Uhm. You have stuff you have to do today, I assume?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “My mom and I need to go to the Funeral Home.”

“I'll come along, if you want. I don't have to, but it's what I'm here for. Anything you need.”

“I appreciate that,” she said. “I love that you came up here. I really do. I can't... I can't find words...” she started to tear up and he hugged her to him, stroking her hair, trying not to think about how good she smelled. When she calmed, she pulled away and led him to his suitcase so he could shower.  

His heart had never hurt for a girl before. Her pain ran so deep he could feel it from across the room. Her eyes didn't sparkle and her smile didn't seem easy and she wasn't half the girl she seemed to be in her email. He hadn't expected her to be-- it was why he was there, after all. He just hoped his presence helped and didn't stress her out, give her one more person to worry about and someone to entertain. He didn't want to be a drag on her. He wanted to help.

So help, he did. He met her mom, who hugged him tight and cried on his shoulder, and accompanied them both to the Funeral Home. He sat in the chapel while they made arrangements, and enjoyed the peace and quiet. When they came to collect him, he was so deep into the atmosphere that he didn't hear them come behind him. They sat in the back row and waited for him to finish praying or meditating or whatever it was he was doing-- contemplating. And when he was finished they left together. The Funeral would be held the following day, in the same chapel.

Oddly, her mother left for work. Sitting at home was just too much, too much quiet, for her. She had to be busy and occupy her hands and her mind and her time. He and Shannon returned to her apartment, where she made them some dinner and they had more time to talk.

“My mom is so impressed that you came up. Like, really touched.” He shrugged shyly and gave her a smile. “How are your Acting books? Did you try anything yet?”

“No, but I brought a script, because I need to learn some lines. I was reading through them on the plane.”

“You're kidding. Bust out with some lines, then. Show me whatcha workin' with!” she said, laughing for the first time since he arrived.

 He stared at her, at her pretty face and big smile and eyes that disappeared because she was laughing. “Wow, I've never heard you laugh before.”

She tilted her head and blushed. “Is that a good wow, or an 'oh my God, she sounds like that, book me on the next flight outta here', wow?”

He laughed. “It's a 'that's one of the world's most beautiful sounds' wow. I like it,” he said softly.

The next day was long. He was lucky Lance reminded him to toss in a pair of slacks at the last minute, or he'd have had to attend the service in jeans. It was a small, short service, but Shannon and her mom had to be there early, and had to stay after until everyone was gone, and then there was the dinner at her mom's house. By the time they made it back to Shannon's apartment, they were both beat.

“When are you flying back?” she asked. They sat on the couch, Bruno between them. He ran his hands along the shiny caramel coat as the giant animal laid his head in his lap.

“When I'm sure you're okay,” he answered. “Couple days. I'm not in a hurry. Is it okay that I'm here? Do you need me to go, or...?”

“No no no. No, I... I love that you're here. I'm so incredibly touched that you came up here. And I'm glad you're not going back right away. We have some time to like, talk. In person. This is weird.” She grinned.

“I know. You want me to go send you an email?”

“No, silly goof. It's just... it's nice to see you. In the flesh.” She reached out and patted his arm and then his leg. He grabbed her hand and held it. Looked her in the eyes. Those pretty brown eyes.

“How are you? Really.”

“I'm okay. I could be better, but I could be much worse. It just... kind of happened so fast, you know?”

“Yeah. But it's almost worse when you're just sitting around waiting for it to happen.”

“Thankfully we didn't have to do that.” She squeezed his hand. “So, we can go to the park tomorrow, with Bruno. You said you wanted to go with us.”

“Definitely. And then can you take me to Powell's? I gotta see this place.”

She nodded, excitedly bouncing. Bruno huffed, unhappy at the movement.

“And then.... I will take you to lunch. Oh! We have to go down to the art district. There's some great stuff to look at, and some cafes and shops...” she stopped, and deflated. “Oh. You probably can't just hang out, huh?”

He shrugged. “I should be okay. We just won't draw attention to ourselves.” It was his turn to squeeze her hand. He was determined to be there for her. He didn't fly up there to hide in her apartment. If she wanted to go the art district, then dammit he was going to the art district. “We'll be fine.”

And they were. Hardly even a ripple of attention. A few knowing glances and smiles and shy waves, but no crowds and no ridiculous outpourings of bad behavior. He hadn't seen one of those in... gosh... years. “I'm not Justin Timberlake,” he often said. “I can go anywhere I want.”

Tyler sent him a few text messages, wondering how it was going. He sent back messages when he had time, that it was going fine. Shawn wanted to know if he'd slept with her yet. He wasn't even going to dignify that text with a response. It didn't seem like the right time to even be thinking about that-- though she was his 'type', if he had one. She could lean her head on his chest in stocking feet and her hair was the stuff his dreams were made of-- long and shiny and silky and wavy. She had dancer's legs and pretty feet with manicured toes and a silhouette that just wouldn't quit-- but not that he'd noticed.

Well, it wasn't like he hadn't thought about it. He had lots of opportunity-- she insisted he sleep in the bed and not on the couch, because she knew from experience that it wasn't comfortable. Her King size bed had plenty of room and she wouldn't hear of him breaking his back on a 3x5 card worth of space on the couch. “Besides,” she said. “You need the Bruno experience.”

So, no. He hadn't slept with her. He watched her sleep and longed to reach out and touch her face, tuck a piece of shiny, silky, wavy hair behind her ear but he resisted. Wanted to intertwine his fingers with hers and walk hand in hand through the art galleries and exhibits and street vendors, through lunch and while they walked through the thick trees and brush with Bruno, but instead stuck his hands in his pocket. Wanted to grab her and hug her to him and kiss her till his lips were raw and chapped but instead stared into the distance as he listened to her talk.

He remembered telling her sometimes that just the right comedy of errors could work in your favor. Or was he telling himself that? Anyway. Sometimes he wondered where he'd be if she hadn't sent that email, on accident. One very innocent mistake, a simple error had changed his life-- what if that had never happened? Would he still be doing the same thing, living the same life, enduring the same monotony of the same day, everyday? It wasn't even as if she'd said 'hey get off your ass and do something different. If you can't do what you want, find something else you want to do.' He'd just... done it. But felt inspired to by her. When he had someone to talk to and work things out with-- someone that listened and didn't just hear and promptly dismiss-- it let him swim through the murkiness and the fuzziness to something that was clear and defined. She hadn't meant to, but she changed his life.

So he figured she deserved more than being treated like a warm body, because she was there and she was hot and he needed it and would enjoy it. When... well more like if... something happened with her, he wanted that moment to be about expressing what he felt for her and not about getting off. She wasn't that kind of girl.

“Okay, one more time,” she said, adjusting the video camera. “But just say it like you're talking to me, not like you're Mr Acting Man. Okay, go.”

He closed his eyes, set down his script, and then opened them. “Mister, I don't know what to tell you,” he recited from memory. “It was... it was right here, and now it's not..” He looked around, confused, frustrated, then held up his hands in defeat. “I can check around for you if you want. But it was right here.” He paused, then glanced at her. “Better?”

She squealed and grinned. “So much better. Wanna watch?”

They sat side by side, watching the playback on the small screen of the camcorder. It was Shannon's idea, from one of the books she'd sent him, to film him rehearsing his lines. It was helping, a lot. He saw where he muttered instead of speaking clearly and how 'wooden' and practiced he sounded. Seeing himself and hearing himself was painful but he could already see improvement.

“We need web cams. I don't know if I can go back to email after, like... seeing you.”

“I know, that would be fun, huh? I have a webcam. Do you want me to download this and send it to you?” He nodded and she hopped up to connect it to her computer. Her screen saver flipped off and he laughed at her desktop photo-- a paparazzi shot of him shopping at The Grove.

“I'm gonna send you a real picture of me,” he said, still laughing.

“What's wrong with that picture. I like it. It's cute. You're cuter in person, though. Much.”

“So are you. Much.”

“Thanks,” she said with a blush, turning around to smile at him, then turning back to the screen. “So, I have to go into the office tomorrow for a meeting around 10. Will you be fine, by yourself, or do you want me to drop you at a coffee shop or something?”

“I'll hang with Bruno. We'll be okay, won't we, boy?” He shifted his feet under Bruno's massive haunches. “He's so weird with this foot thing. But my feet are warm.”

“Yeah I can't figure out what that's about, but... it's just a quirk, I guess. He's usually over here, under my feet, unplugging shit.” She downloaded the video, zipped it into a folder and emailed it to him. “I won't be gone long tomorrow. An hour, maybe two. I'm in between projects, so I don't really have to work tomorrow. I would have spent so much time bothering you over email if you weren't here.”

 “And I would have loved that, if I wasn't here.”

She turned around and smiled at him. A big smile, so her eyes disappeared. She had such a pretty smile.