Page 49 of Yours, For Good

Happy New Year, Mr. B.!

My time here at Lock Willow has been great. Javier has been great company. I think we'll spend the evening together, but I'm not sure what the plan is. I'll report back!

His company has been good in a few different ways. On one hand, it's just nice to spend time with someone more or less my age and feel like I'm actually on holiday. You know, the type where you have time to be lazy and chill and go with the flow; usually, breaks were a time to catch up with work. Now I get someone asking me, "What do you feel like doing?" and if I answer, "Wanna read a book at the beach?" he doesn't question it. He just grabs a blanket and off we go! I don't think I'd ever been on holidays like this before.

On the other hand, it helped me understand something crucial about my social skills.

(This pause is to build suspense. Welcome to my evil side.)

Okay, okay, I'll tell you.

It's much easier to feel like there are no issues with my social skills when I'm spending time with someone I click with.

In other words, maybe the problem wasn't me to start with. Maybe the whole point is to find someone you fit with, and understand you'll have to meet a lot of people before you find the right ones.

There is so much I could say about Javier, but he just came into the library room I'm in, and it would be weird to keep talking about him to you while he's sitting nearby. I'll be back in San Francisco soon; I'll finish my thoughts then. Maybe waiting until then makes more sense too, because I'll have the time and distance to process it all more. You'll get better

thoughts that way! I bet you're letting out a big sigh of relief, that you don't have to read my stream of consciousness, unfiltered.

You're welcome to reply back if you don't want me to tell you more about this discovery. You're welcome to send me an email and tell me if you know Javier, since you run in the same circles and sometimes I panic when I think maybe you know him. Maybe reading my thoughts about him feels too weird to you! Alternatively, you can also go right ahead and tell me if you'd feel awkward if I talked about feelings a lot more than I usually do.

You have about three days. And that's a threat! Mwuahaha.

Nora

Javier

I DIDN'T READ THE email she sent me from the library until I was back home in New York. Of course, I didn't reply. It would have gone against the program rules… and, in the quiet of the night, I admitted to myself I would love to know what she thought about me. If she went ahead with it and wrote her thoughts down.

I wasn't proud of it. I didn't want to deceive her… but that's exactly what I was doing. It gnawed at me. It showed a weakness of character that made me uncomfortable. And yet, I couldn't actually stop her from sharing.

Could I stop reading? Fuck, that didn't seem right either. What if she needed something and I never knew she asked?

Things were so complex already and, in a whirlpool of conflicting, confusing emotions, I was left immobile not knowing what to do.

She did tell me her thoughts, in a follow up letter that arrived a few days later… and which tore me in two.

Date: January 5th

To: Mr. Smith

From: Eleanora

Subject: confessional

Dear Mr. B.,

I haven't received a response from you (shocker?), but rest assured, I'm in a much more philosophical mood today, so you won't have to deal with Playful Nora. I hope you like both versions of me, regardless.

I'm back to reality and in your condo again. My time in Lock Willow was so different to Real Life that it's hard to believe it happened at all. It makes me wonder if maybe I made it up…

Which brings me right back to what I said I would write about. Javier.

First, I'll ask for your understanding and empathy as you read the rest of this letter. Use all of the wisdom you've gained through the many years you've been on this earth to give me some grace. It's hard for me to talk about this. I'm afraid you'll judge me for it somehow. Still, I'm going to cross my fingers and send it, even if I have to scream while doing it.

You're the only person on earth that knows enough about me that I can take this risk with. Ready?

(AAAAH, if you know him do NOT tell him of this letter or I'll die. My epitaph would say, she died too young of abject embarrassment. You wouldn't want to be responsible for that, right?)