You've Got Mail

Ch. 7

The week that Shannon stayed with him in LA, the week that she brought a smile to his face and seemed to brighten the air in the house by just being there, the week that his friends fell in love with her, the week that he fell in love with her, too, turned out much better than he thought it would- and he thought it might turn out pretty great. 

He spent the week showing her the best and worst of Los Angeles and Hollywood. His favorite hangouts and shopping areas, where he saw movies, where he ate lunch and dinner a lot, where he and Tyler sat and had beers and reflected on life and love. She met everyone who insisted on meeting her with a bright smile and ready laughter. She seemed comfortable with him, friendly and outgoing with his friends, already a part of his life. He could just barely remember a time when he didn't know her... and now he had to put her on a plane and send her home. 

He drove, slowly, to the airport, watched Tyler escort her and Bruno inside, then come back out and slide back into the passenger seat.

“She's on her way. I left her at the security gate and they were coming to get Bruno when I walked off. She said to tell you thanks and she'll call you when she gets home. She kinda was tearing up. She gave me a hug.”

He nodded and pulled away from the curb. Quiet. Pensive. He missed her, already.

After a few minutes of silence, not even the radio playing, no inane chatter that had become the usual for the two of them, Tyler asked, “So, you think you like her?”

A few more minutes of silence, deep contemplation, musing, and then he answered matter-of-factly. “I think I love her.”

Tyler studied him, to see if he was serious. Surely, he was joking, about being in love with the woman from email. “Like, love her? Like in love with her?”

He nodded. “Love her, like in love with her. Yeah." He drove with one hand and hung the other out the window, feeling the breeze blow through his fingers. Yeah. He loved her.

"You gonna tell her?" Tyler asked, watching the landscape speed by.

"Eventually. " His hand rode the wind like a surfer on a wave as he sped down the freeway

"You think she feels the same?"

"I don't know. I think so but... I don't know."

It took a few days for it to really sink in, that he loved her. He didn't necessarily WANT to be in love with her, this woman he met on accident one day. It would certainly be easier to fall for someone he hadn't met over email and who didn't live so far away. He wasn't sure how to tell her or if he should tell her or if she would even want to hear it, but if or when he did, it damn sure wasn't going to be over the email.

They decided, over the week, to see each other more often. The beauty of her job was that she didn't punch a time clock, or have a steady schedule. As long as she had her laptop and Internet access, she could work from anywhere. She could move things around and spend time wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted to-- a perk they both wanted to take advantage of. Working, for her, meant sitting at the computer, but she could also be watching a movie with him, or listening to music with him, or talking to him, so even if she was working, he could hang out. If he was working, she could do the same-- or find a quiet corner and plug in and...well.. work. He wasn't seeing anyone else, and neither was she, but if they were going to go through the trouble of rearranging schedules, then they were more than email buddies by that point, and each wanted to treat it as such. At some point during one of their visits, he was sure the right moment to tell her would come up. And then he could say it. And maybe hear it back.

But it didn't. It didn't happen on his next trip up to Oregon. Nor on her next trip down to California. Nor on the trips after that-- not the weekend they met in Seattle and stood in the wind off of the Puget Sound, when he wanted to shout it over the water and into the mountains;  not the week in New York that he spent recording and brought her with him so she could see a 'real live Broadway show', when he wanted to stand in Times Square and tell everyone he saw that he loved the woman he was with; not in Vegas, standing with her in front of the Bellagio, watching the Water Works show, when he wanted to take her in his arms and whisper in her ear over and over and over 'I love you'; not the camping trip at the Gorge or the weekend he tipped the kayak at the Falls and she laughed so hard she cried, and he wanted to just take that quiet minute when they stared at each other, surrounded by water crashing down from up above and a lush green forest, to say it. To finally say it. But didn't. 

For months, he kept his secret, let it grow. It was almost suffocating, the words always sitting at the top of his throat, on the tip of his tongue. Maybe she was waiting on him to say something? Maybe she didn't think it needed to be said?  He tried to treat her like he felt it, and he felt like if he said it, he would hear it back, but at the end of every trip, those words hung in the air, neither of them willing to say it.

His album was dropping soon--  all hell was about to break loose. He wanted her to know, before things got stupid, before things changed, before a lot of people would find out, that even though they wouldn't be able to see each other very often, that he loved her and he would be thinking about her. He couldn't delay it much longer. He needed her to know. He wanted time with her, while she knew, and no one else did. He was just going to have to make the move and be the first to say it.

Subject: I need to come up.

Maybe this weekend. That okay?

Joshua

Subject: Re: I need to come up.

No problem. Anything wrong?

Shannon

Subject: Re: Re: I need to come up

No, nothing wrong.

I just need to see you before my world goes crazy. Make sure you know some stuff.

 Joshua

Subject: Well, come on up!

Just let me know what time to pick you up.

Shannon

Right there would be where he'd say 'I love you, see you soon'. But he couldn't, because he hadn't said the words yet and didn't want to type them to her for the first time. He wanted her to hear the words come out of his mouth. He wanted to see her face when he said it. And he wanted to hear the words back-- I love you, too.

So he'd flown up to Oregon, and they'd had a great, relaxing dinner and walked Bruno and laughed and talked and hugged and kissed and had very enjoyable and satisfying sex, the kind that would keep him in a good mood the next day and probably a few days after, and still he hadn't said anything. Then they'd hung out and watched movies and shopped and he'd helped her hang a shelf and amused her with funny songs while she waited for the oil to be changed in her car, and then ordered Chinese, and had the kind of sex you brag about, except he wouldn't, but he'd remember for a long time, or for at least a few weeks, and he still hadn't said anything.

It seemed ironic to him that if he didn't want this, that he wouldn't have been able to avoid it. That had happened once, or twice. When he really liked someone but didn't exactly love her, and she'd been disappointed to see his blank stare after she mustered up the courage to say it, and how she usually stormed off, hurt, and despite wanting to go after her, he didn't, because it wasn't like he could say he loved her back. If he'd didn't want this with Shannon, so very badly-- if she'd been the kind of woman he spent time with because she was a warm body, and he was lonely, and he wanted it, she'd have been all over him and falling in love with him too soon and too much and would have been smothering him with 'I Love You' for months. But since he did want this with Shannon, so very badly, he couldn't make it happen. He could not leave Portland without saying it. He wouldn't let himself.

“Joshua, can I ask you something?” Her fingernails traced a pattern in the hair on his chest as they laid next to each other, enjoying the after glow.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you... do you have something you want to tell me? You've been looking like you want to say something all weekend and I've been scared to ask because I thought maybe you wanted to stop dating, because of your album coming out and your schedule getting really busy. Is that what you want to say? ”

This was it. An opening if he ever wished for one, and he had wished for one. Several times.

“Uhm,” he started, pushing himself up to a sitting position. She sat up as well, pulling the sheet up around her, concern-- no, fear-- in her eyes. He hated to make her look at him like that, so he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, get on the other side of saying the words and get back to living life and loving her.

“I don't... I'm not breaking up or anything. Don't look so scared. Just uhm... I'm about to get really busy, and I'm gonna do my best to still see you and talk to you when I can. But uhm. There's something I want you to know before things go all... stupid. Uhm....”

She reached over to him, took a hand and held it tightly, but didn't say a word. Whatever he had to say, she had the patience to wait it out.

“Uhm. So. I love you. A lot. I have for awhile. Since the first time you came to California. So. There it is. What I wanted to say. What I've wanted to say and haven't and I'm sorry for waiting so long but... well there it is.”

She didn't say anything. She just stared, wide-eyed. He stared back.  For a long time. Minutes. Minutes are long, when there's silence, but instead of silence you expected to hear 'oh my God, I love you, too.' Except he wasn't hearing that. He was looking at her and she wasn't saying anything. She was getting up. Out of the bed and walking out of the room. And he sat there, wondering if he shouldn't have said anything. And if he should go after her. Because he most certainly loved her and this time he could say it. He had said it.

She came back into the room, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a pair of slip on sandals and walked back out. He heard her open the door and take Bruno out. He sat in the bed, in the same spot and looked around the room, thinking. So... maybe she didn't love him. Or... maybe she didn't know what to say? But why not just say 'wow, I don't know what to say'? Why leave?

He decided to go after her. He got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and shoes and walked out of the apartment, down the stairs to the back where she knew he would find her and Bruno. He found her, her brown hair still in a tangled mess from earlier, staring at the ground, limply holding onto the leash while Bruno rooted around her. When he finished, he nudged her hand with his nose, and she gripped the leash and turned back toward the building. Then she saw him, and stopped, but Bruno kept going. The leash flew out of her hands but she didn't seem to notice. Bruno bounded toward him and he stopped him, picking up the leash.

They stood, staring at each other, the flat amber shine from the breezeway and the illuminating glow of the full moon offering the only lighting. The night air was soundless and crisp, not even the crickets were out. A light breeze blew across his neck, and he wondered how long they would stand there before one of them made a move.

Then, in the first deja vu moment he'd had in a very long time, she ran toward him, into his open arms. He wrapped both arms around her, tightly, held her as tight as he could. He didn't know how long they stood there... he didn't care. He'd stand there all night if she needed him to. Except it was cold, freezing cold, and he wanted to talk.

“It's cold out here. Let's get you inside,” he said, leaving an arm around her and guiding her toward the building. They climbed the stairs, Bruno panting ahead of them, and walked into her apartment. He unleashed Bruno, hung the leash, and sent Bruno to his plus corner of the world.

She still stood in the middle of the living room, dazed. He ran a hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair down. “Where do you want to talk? 'Cause we definitely need to talk.”

She sniffled. “Let's go back to bed,” she said, with a laugh. So they did. They got undressed and took off their shoes and climbed back under the covers. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the tickle of her eyelashes brushing against his skin as she blinked.  He ran his fingers through her wavy hair, untangling it as he went.

“So,” he said quietly, “was that not what you wanted to hear? You can be honest, I can take it.”

She rolled her head to kiss the skin that was under her cheek. “That was so the opposite of anything I was expecting to hear from you. I was SURE you came up here to dump me. And I kept waiting for it and waiting for it, and even though I was sure it was happening, I still wanted like, one last time with you. When you sat up, I was like 'God this is really over.' Then you said 'So, I love you', and I like... my brain broke. It's like 'that's so not what I expected to hear.' I needed to think, and I couldn't just sit there, and stare at you while I thought about it and tried to go from 'shit I don't want to lose this guy' to 'oh yeah, he totally loves me'.

He tucked her hair behind her ear and kept smoothing it down. He almost had all the tangles out, from that side. “Why would I dump you? Like fly up here to dump you? And go to dinner with you and laugh with you and have the world's greatest sex ever with you and then dump you?”

“It's not like that shit doesn't happen, J. The male species doesn't make much sense. You guys are all crazy, remember?”

“No, I think it was girls that were crazy, but don't think they're crazy. Running off to go walk the dog, in the cold, and stand there for like, 10 minutes in 40 degree weather --knowing full well I'm from California and 40 degrees is COLD to me--”

She caught a fold of skin between her thumb and finger and twisted. He cried out in pain and then laughed.“Is there a point coming?”

“Yeah, my point is that could could have just said it, and we could have laid here in the bed together all nice and warm, saying it to each other all night.” He felt her eyelashes flutter on his skin as she blinked a few times. “That is, if you feel that. And you want to. Say it, I mean.”

She sat up, then, looking down on him, her hair now smooth and untangled, cascading down one side. She ran a finger down the center of his chest. "The more I got to know you the more I wanted you to love me, but then you never said anything, so I never said anything..."

“And I never said anything because you never said anything...” He caught her hand and held it close to his chest. “Well, so... do you? I mean... I'm not trying to be pushy here, but...well do you?”

She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and suppressed a nervous giggle, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling fan above them and she seemed to be willing herself to say something.

“Shannon!” he said, lightly smacking her thigh.

She licked her lips and smiled, a big smile, so her eyes disappeared, and then mouthed 'Yeah'.

He sat up, then, and faced her, then rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. “Could you say it?” he whispered.

“I love you, Joshua,” she whispered back.

Then and only then could he let out the breath he was holding, had held so long his chest was tight. The anticipation of hearing those words nearly killed him-- he thought he'd pass out before he got her to say them.

“That's all I wanted to hear. Thank you.”

“I could say it again, if you want.”

“You can say it as many times as you want, sweetheart. As many times as you want. And then you can email it to me.”

“I love you. Bruno loves you, too.” He laughed, then kissed her. Kissed her long and sweet and held onto her like he would never let her go. The sex this time was slow and sensual and different, with whispers of 'I love you' folding into the movements, the embraces, the intimate touches. He made up for all the times he wanted to say it and didn't. Could have said it but chose not to. Now he could say it, over and over and over. And hear it back.

It wasn't the first time he'd heard it. It just somehow meant more, now. This was just different. It felt different. He loved different. He felt loved in a different way.

He liked this. He loved her. 

When he finally rolled over and gathered her to him, closed his arms around her as she drifted off to sleep, visions of his life and what had become of it, since that day he got an email that wasn't meant for him, danced through his head.  It was a day like any other, which were mostly the same, but would change the course of his life so much that now, many many months later, he didn't live the same routine, he didn't have the same mundane schedule. He no longer went the same places and did the same things. There was no more monotony, no droll boringness of his everyday. He woke up excited. He went to bed, excited. He felt fulfilled. He felt loved and like he had a life to lead, and a life to enjoy and a CAREER.

He breathed deeply, smiling. He made it to the other side of I Love You, and held Shannon in his arms, with a brand new everyday to look forward to.