Page 12 of Yours, For Good

I've opened my heart to you and I regret that I've given you my trust like that. I don't know what's worse; the idea that you're so disinterested in me and my letters that you've never read them… or that you've read them and have been unmoved by them or, worse, careless… perhaps you have judged me harshly and I'm here, still playing the fool.

Moving forward, my vulnerability will remain mine. I will fulfill my side of the agreement, as you have yours. You will receive an executive summary and a report at the end of the month.

Sincerely,

Nora Toledo

Date: September 19

To: Mr. Smith

From: Eleanora

Subject: With regrets

Dear Mr. Smith,

I apologize for the email I sent an hour ago. After thinking it over a nice cup of tea, I recognize the injustice of my words, Mr. Smith.

You never asked me to think of you as a friend or to make up a silly name for you. You did nothing to make me believe I should trust you as a person and see you as someone of personal relevance in my life. You never promised any of it— that was my own desires and fantasies taking shape and I projected it all onto you.

As you see, I regret the words and the emotional tone, but the core of the message is the same. You're not an old family friend. You're my benefactor. I was the one in the wrong, confusing the two. Desperately wanting closeness isn't enough reason to demand that from you.

I promise to be civil moving forward.

Sincerely,

Nora Toledo

Javier

I WALKED AROUND WITH a stone in my stomach these days. Nora's last few emails hammered the point further, that the money and access I provided weren't enough.

She had tried to rely on me for more, and letting her call me a silly name and treat me like an old friend had done fuck all in that regard.

I kept failing Nora, and I didn't know how to fix it.

Chapter 7

Date: September 20

To: Mr. Smith

From: Eleanora

Subject: You care!

Dear Mr. B.,

It's been less than an hour since I received your flowers and, I have to say— I didn't expect the two emails I sent yesterday to result in such a lovely gesture.

I would have written earlier but I had to calm down first. I'm only a little embarrassed to admit I teared up as I put those beautiful pink zinnias in a vase (I had to use an app to know what flowers they were, I hope the app got it right). I also pressed one in a book between tissue paper; I want to keep it forever. I had never gotten flowers before, you see.

I didn't mention it in my last emails, but I've been developing a cold. My body started aching yesterday, and I got some difficult news from the JGH, and I'm exhausted and reeling…

In short, I've been wrapped in a blanket dozing on the sofa, generally feeling pretty low, all day today. When the doorman announced the flowers, at first I didn't believe him— but when I opened the door to see them in his hands I was completely gobsmacked!

I noticed the card as I undid the beautiful wrapping paper. So few words (Dear Nora: I care. Mr. Beanpole = only six words!) but they were powerful to me… and written by hand. I like to imagine you wrote the card yourself but, even if you didn't, you must have chosen the words, right, Mr. B.? And they signify that not only you read my emails, but also don't mind my nickname for you and, most importantly, you care.