The · Letter · Game

Em,

Sorry for being so terrible with communication and all. My life has been so insane. My parents say no way is it possible for them to come down, and we don't want her to have to be in a nursing home, so what it comes down to is that I need to be here to take care of her. We have a woman come in while I'm at school, but I'm responsible for nights. Don't ask me how she's doing, it's depressing. There was this whole ordeal with getting me registered for school here, too. It was awful. Junior year is the worst time to switch schools, I swear. I feel totally cut off and stressed and with no-one who might understand any of it. In truth, you're the only person I feel any sort of connection with right now. I can't really relate to Grandma anymore, and the kids at school aren't even really to me. They're like phantoms, I swear. When I think back to any conversation I had or heard at school, it's just buzz. I can't remember anything I've said today. Buzzbuzzbuzz. I hate it. After everything with Grandpa last year, and now Grandma, the idea of forgetfulness terrifies me. Maybe that's why writing to you feels so good--because no matter what, I still have a memory. The only question is whether it's in my head or in a pile in the back of your dresser.

I miss you, Emery. I can't bear to think how this will sound. I miss your lips. And the way they sort of pocket at the corners when I say something you find both irritating and endearing. I miss how softly you used to kiss my neck. I miss the way you held my hand when we first started dating. I remember thinking that's how I would hold a malnourished sparrow, with that much delicacy. That's the first time you told my fortune--do you remember?

I think you should forgive Elise. For real, this time. You're usually so good at letting things go, Em. Why is she different? She's not. I think maybe that's what you forget about her--that she's not perfect and considerate and well thought-out and rational. She's human, just like the rest of us.

I miss my home. Tell me a story about home, Em, so I don't forget.

The L-word,
Elaine.

P.S. I've been bruising really easily of late. What is that? Potassium deficiency? I hate bananas.

Em,

My grandmother had a stroke. A little over a week ago. I can't leave her, she's not functional. My parents can't afford to fly down, it was only as a birthday present from Grandma that I'm here at all. I'm sorry. You probably expected I'd be home by now. I should've been home all this week. I'm not coming home. I can't. I'm sorry. Don't let anyone forget me. Don't let me forget any of them.

Love, El

El,

I think I know what you're getting at with the Jonathan thing, at least somewhat. Or at least, I've heard that no one you don't love can truly anger or upset you often enough to believe it, so I understand that it was nice to know that you cared. But there are other, better ways to do that. You know, ways that don't hurt so much.

Today, here, now, I don't really know about you and I. The other day I missed you so much it hurt, and I wanted you back more than anything. But here I am reading that you don't think we should go out, and I totally agree. I think you're right that there's something left, but I don't know exactly what it is or what it's pulling me to do. And you're right, maybe seeing you will help. But I wonder- I think maybe, the thing about me is, I find it harder to open up when someone's right next to me, and I can see their face and watch their reaction. It's easier in letters, when all you're doing is writing on a sheet of paper that isn't a person at all and you can pretend that no one will ever see it. I'm not sure I could say the things I say in these letters to anyone in person, no matter how much I trusted them. Because then I'd have to see their face.

So, Marie and I did rent Waking Life, and she was very into the animation style, although I found it distracting- although I guess it fit the movie pretty well.

The whole thing was kind of intense, you know? I kept getting interrupted, and I missed a few bits and pieces, but even with that, it was still a lot. but I definitely liked it.

So... this Jacob guy. You have to tell me more about him. He sounds exciting.

And me. Well, first off, Jamie did call, and we talked for quite a while, and he's actually a really great guy. He's sweet and funny and he reads Heinlein . . . do you think there's something wrong with becoming interested in your ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend? Because I don't know that I am, (and everything's too confused for it to be a good idea in any case) but . . . just maybe. I'll have to see. We're going out for lunch on Tuesday, maybe that will help clarify things.

I've been avoiding Elisa again. You can probably guess why. But I thought I'd mention it. I always feel better when I know these types of things, just so I don't say anything awkward, so I thought you might feel the same way.

You asked about Nore, but there isn't really that much more to tell. I still talk to her, of course, and often. But being interested almost feels like a dream now.

I miss you and hope to hear from you soon.

Em-

The thing about me and Jonathan was that... okay, you're going to tell me I'm crazy, or masochistic or something. But I liked that he had the power to make me cry. Sort of as a measure of how much I cared. And with him it was really straightforward, you know? Like, even when we were on the rocks, we both understood the situation and how we felt. With you... when you made me feel shitty, it was like I was subsidizing in some ways, you know? Because it was all sort of under the blanket of I love you. It wasn't easy, and i didn't know where I stood. It was complicated. Which, I don't know, maybe means it was more real or something. But it wasn't happy and easy, you know?

And even now I don't really know what the right thing for us is. I can't deny there's still and attraction, a... commitment, almost. But dating doesn't feel right, either. I'll be home in a couple of weeks, which ought to help. I feel like seeing you, hearing your voice, should resolve this feeling. Just your words aren't enough.

I think you don't need to be afraid of your own uncertainty. And you have to understand that you've never really shown me any of it. I don't know if I should have understood it anyways, but... god, you didn't make it easy! I know you better from a couple of letters than I did after dating you for five months. I almost feel that, in light of that, it would have been impossible for us to work. It probably didn't feel to you like you didn't trust me enough to to talk to me about what's important, but I don't know what else to think. This isn't you being stoic, or mature or anything. You aren't dealing with it, you're making it impossible for anyone to know you. God. Um, I'm going to stop now.

Jacob, one of these boys I me on the beach, showed me a movie I think you should might like. It's called Waking Life, and it's basically about... people. And their personal philosophies, and what they think about. It's really cool. Jacob keeps surprising me with these really intelligent, thoughtful sorts of things--Waking Life is his favorite movie. At first I thought it was an affectation, but he seems genuine. Watch it with Marie, there's a cool animation she might appreciate.

Hey, but what about you? You can't expect me to gossip and not reciprocate. :) Tell me more about the Nore thing, and the Jamie thing, and whichever things you aren't even mentioning.

Love,
Elaine

P.S. Sorry it took me so long to send this off. By the time the day os over, I've been so tired I haven't been able to think straight.

El,

First, Nore and I broke up (gasp!). But really, we were never as into each other as we seemed/should have been. I mean, I was getting over you, and she was getting over Jamie, and we were friends, and it kind of just happened. And a couple of days ago it unhappened. And that was that.

Second, you ask me these questions like you think I'll know the answer. People (and especially you, I sometimes think, though you know me better than anyone) seem to assume that I know exactly what I want, and just toy with and manipulate people because I think it's fun. I don't. If I'm sending you mixed signals, it's because I have no idea what I want. And maybe it's unfair of me to put you through my mood swings and changes in attitude, but I don't know what else to do.

I'm as confused as you are. I mean, we broke up for a reason, I know that. I also know, however it may have appeared, I was happier when I was with you than I ever have been. I think I'm at that stage where every little thing changes me radically. I don't know how to deal with that, and I don't know how to deal with you. An dI suppose you know me well enough to know that I would always choose the subtle, round-a-bout, manipulative path over asking for help.

Third, (and I know I should just drop this, because I don't want to fight with you, but I can't) do you remember that time at the movies when started crying and spent half an hour locked in a bathroom stall, waiting for him to leave? It wasn't the only time he made you cry, or the first. The two of you probably had good times too, but I think you're forgetting things. But maybe I should just drop it, since we clearly don't agree.

I'm happy you're enjoying California, and flirting with guys (I'm a little jealous, but I'll get over it). It sounds marvelous. Ann Arbor is the same as it always is, and filled with art fair tourists. I've realized that I like not being a tourist at times like these- knowing where everything is, and such. At the same time, if I was only visiting, there would be a smaller chance that I would run into someone I didn't want to talk to, as nearly happened the other day (I feel bad for avoiding things, but there are some people I just can't bear right now).

The nice part was when I ran into Jamie and didn't feel guilty at all for not being jealous. We talked for a while, and I think he might call me- which would be awkward, but possibly rather nice as well. You never know.

Anyway, I should probably wrap this up so I can get it in the mail.

Best,

Em

Em,

California things first.

It's shockingly hot here. I think it's one of the hotter summers they've had, and after our Michigan summers, I'm positively baking. I burned pretty badly the first few days, but i actually have the beginnings of a tan! It's nothing compared to some of these guys you see on the beach, though. They are... just unbelievably brown. Because I don't know anyone here, I spend a lot of time alone on the beach, and since these guys are the kind of people who like to know everyone, a couple have introduced themselves. They're so friendly! And funny and interesting in an incredibly masculine way--which is weird, seeing as how most of my friends back home are sort of thin, snarky, intellectual boys. I never thought I'd be drawn to the surfer boy persona, but being with them is an oddly liberating experience. Sort of like how Peter's always talking about "living in the moment," except instead of angsting about it, these guys just do it.

You know, it's a funny thing. After... you, I always expected that aside from maybe the occasional hook-up, I would basically be dating girls. But flirting with boys is so comfortable. I don't have to put as much effort in, I can read them. You know? I mean, when I was with you and especially just before I was with you, half the time I was completely terrified. I mean, exhilarated, but... terrified.

        So that's California.

Which... I don't really know how to segway into this gracefully, but basically what it boils down to is this: you have no right whatsoever to tell me how I feel or felt. I was happy with Jonathan. I don't know what it will take for you to believe that, but it's true. He and I weren't perfect, but we were happy. When you say that I wasn't happy, what you mean is that you couldn't have been happy. But you and I are not as similar as you seem to think.

God. I can't think at all. There's this awful dynamic here of you sweet-talking me, and me feeling shitty about it. It almost makes me forget, sometimes, all the reasons we broke up. I mean, you know I'm still having some trouble with the whole situation, and yet you're reminiscing to me about the "good times", talking about loving me. What do you want, Em? Because what it really sounds like is that you're looking for us to get back together, but it's easier to seduce me (again) than to be straightforward. What happened to everything you felt for Nore? I mean, okay, I guess I could be misinterpreting. But you're coming on pretty strong. And, I think, part of me wants very badly for that to be the case. But it's a smaller part than I would have expected.

I don't know. I just... feel like there's a lot here that's going over my head. You'll have to be patient with me. I'm still trying to figure the both of us out--because both of us are surprisingly different than we were.

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie-

Friends I can deal with. You not trusting me, even that I can deal with. You pushing me as far away as I thought you were- you know I never could.

I'm glad you're happy there. You're right, I don't understand, and I am probably incapable of understanding. But I'm glad that it means something to you. I'm not quite the bitch you make me out to be, El. I want you to be happy. Maybe you can believe that, even if you can't believe that I care. Have always cared.

And El- (you're going to take this the wrong way, I know, but I can't help myself) you and Jonathan were not lovely. Frankly, you were almost abusive. I don't know if we were ever much better, but I loved you, El, and I wouldn't have even thought of trying to pull you apart if you had been remotely happy. But you weren't. Just so you know.

I thought of you today. I think of you a lot (I hope you don't mind. Sometimes I feel violated when people think of me). Anyway, I saw these two people in the diag, and one of them was wearing this hideous orange shirt, and I thought of that day- do you still remember?- back when I barely knew you, and we both wore those terrible orange shirts to school (I thought at least it would be unique, since no one else has that bad taste, but I was wrong) and we laughed about it so hard.

And I'm sitting here with my nails drying, and up until today I hadn't painted my nails since we broke up. So that's reminding me of you too, except that everything reminds me of you when I let it.

I think I just won't think about you anymore. Isn't that silly? Not thinking about the person you're writing to? I think it's silly. I'm going to do it anyway. I'm in a silly mood. I was very serious after I read your last letter, but the mood dissipated quickly.

I feel like I could fly. It's also 4 in the morning, if that explains anything. Then again, it's summer. I feel entitled to write my letters at 4 in the morning if I want to.

Anyway, you should tell me about California. Still happy there? Met any interesting people? Been to new places? Anecdotes?

I should stop writing before I become even less coherent.

I miss you and wish you well.

Yours,

Emery

P.S. I've never read Nore's palm.

Em-
Careful. Better not let Nore catch you talking to me like that.

Okay, I'll stop. In truth, I'm a little embarrassed about that last letter. I hate that you get to me like that. But- you can't just assume that I'm going to be okay with you all of a sudden seeking me out again.

Truthfully, I don't really trust what you say you're feeling. You have never been so interested in me as when I am unattainable. Whether it's being in a lovely heterosexual relationship or being in California, it seems that the way for me to get you, so to speak, is not to care about you. But I'm not capable of that. I need honesty, Em, and trust, and reliability. Not just when you need me, or even when I tell you I need you, but always. Please don't make me any more promises or ask any more forgiveness. I'm exhausted and I can't trust or forgive you anymore. I told you I wanted to remain friends and that's still true, but you have to realize that we can't just slip back into our old roles. I need to get over you and you need to stop taking me for granted. Before you argue with that last bit, because I know you're going to, I don't mean you dislike or don't care for me, just that my presence has become a given, and that's bad for me.

It's so weird thinking about this again. I spent my first few days sulking in my room (don't look at me like that, Em.), but the sun is beginning to get to me. And the ocean! Amazing. The part of me that still wants to be a photographer is finally satisfied. I've been starving her for so long. The ocean is... I think the most beautiful thing I've ever been witness to. It's size, its dangerousness, its capacity for life, its beauty... you would have to see it to understand. But then again. I have a feeling you wouldn't understand what it means to me. I'm not being catty there, it's just that being here, living near it, is almost a spiritual experience for me. And if you were here I think I'd always have to be explaining that. I suppose that's a good thing I feel that way, though. All things considered.

You know what I just thought of? That time you read my palm. It's funny because I had such butterflies being in such mental + physical closeness with you that I thought I wouldn't be able to focus on what you were saying, but I still remember almost every word. Specifically I remember that there was some major tributary, which you said meant a big decision, and since it intersected the love line I automatically assumed that meant my decision to be with you. I'll admit, I was rather besotted.

And I can't help but wonder if you'll read Nore's palm, too, and if it will be to her what it was to me. I really hate to think of you doing the same cute, silly, romantic things with her as you did with me. As long as we're asking favors: will you hold something sacred for me? Just let there be one thing you only did with me. Please?

You know, I think maybe the tributary isn't my getting together with you. Maybe it's me figuring out how to get over you.

Elaine,

I thought I made it clear why I was writing you: I miss you, and I'm sorry. And if you sit there and burn my letters without reading them I will still write to you. I will write to you because I miss you, I will write to you because I don't want you to forget me, and I will write to you because I want you to write back, even if it's only to tell me not to write. Because then I can still feel the paper, see your handwriting, imagine that you're nearby, that I can see you.

El, you have every right to be mad at me, but I am asking you not to be. Not because I've done anything to deserve it, but because I can't stand it here without you, not knowing how you are and how you're doing. I can't stand thinking that I won't know if you're upset, that I won't know when you're happy.

Maybe I haven't always known how to show it, but I do care. And maybe mentioning Nore and Jonathan wasn't the best idea (I can see why you felt guilty- still, he wasn't perfect either), but, El, Nore will never be you.

Love,
Em

Emery,
Why are you writing me? I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want to hear from you. And in any case, I didn't think you were all too interested in me. Seriously, E, what did you think this would accomplish? Do you think I want to hear about you and Nore? Do you think, perhaps, that I don't feel shitty enough about what I did to Jonathan? Christ. You know, I could ask how this dinner was and you could tell me about your lovely relationship with Nore, how she's being so wonderful helping you deal with my absence, but I DON'T CARE. Please don't write again.

Elaine.

Fuck!

Am I overreacting? I miss you with my entire body. But that's not really any of your business anymore.

Elaine.

Dear Elaine,

I must admit, I wish you were here. I realize that we parted on something other than the best of terms, but these last few days without you have made me think about the fact that, whatever I may have said the day before you left, I miss you and I can't imagine a life without talking to you- or even a summer without doing so.

I have been seeing you everywhere. I went downtown with Nore the other day, and I could have sworn I heard your voice a thousand times and saw you every time I looked around. I even caught myself watching for your reflections in the shop windows before I remembered that you were half-way across the country.

I did see Jonathan, though. He paid no attention whatsoever to Nore, stared at me as if I were a ghost, and finally managed to inquire as to your health and general well-being, by which point I felt aggravated enough to do little more than tell him that you were fine and mention that you were out of town for the summer before excusing myself and dragging Nore away.

I know that you might have wished me to be more polite, but the sight of him still reminds me of too many things I have tried to put in the past. I now almost envy you, being able to leave and forget. Things might be easier for me if I didn't know that it's possible to see him anywhere I go in this damn town.

Other than that, I suppose the days since you left have been as dull as anything. Without you here to urge me into having a social life, I haven't bothered to see anyone but Nore. And I don't even think I've had any particularly interesting thoughts. I just sit around with a book I've read several times before and try to pass the time without thinking at all.

We are going to dinner with some old family friends on Thursday and I haven't seen them in years, so that ought to be fun. They have three kids who are all vaguely around our age and as well as I can remember, reasonably nice, so at the very least I won't be lonely.

Mainly I'm curious to hear what you're doing, though. I understand that perhaps you don't really want to talk to me at the moment, but I am asking your forgiveness, because you mean so much to me, and because- yes, I'll admit it- I'm so dreadfully curious. I want to know everything. The colors, the smells, the feeling of being in a new place! I never really go anywhere or do anything. I need to live through you.

Sincerely,
Emery