So here I am. I sit at my desk. I type and proofread and format. I answer my phone. And when I get hungry, I open my snack drawer to see if I have anything in there to save me a trip to the vending machine and possible interaction with my co-workers. I’m not hopeful, because I haven’t stocked it in months and haven’t looked in here in at least several weeks. My appetite hasn’t been what it used to be. But I seem to remember putting a can of peanuts in here. Peanuts don’t go bad, do they?
As the drawer slides out, I see something strange. Sitting on top of the peanuts is a square gift of some sort, wrapped in a piece of old blueprint. When I turn it over, I see there’s a yellow sticky note on the back of it.
In case you ever change your mind… J
I look around, feeling like I might be on camera. I stare at the precise block lettering on the sticky note. It’s his handwriting, all right. I tear the blueprint away carefully, so that a strip of bright orange peeks out from underneath it. When the rest of the wrapping falls away, the Kit Kat is revealed.
I smile and take a breath when I realize this must have been in my desk for months, waiting for me to find it. Since our fight about my brother. Or maybe he found the candy bar when he was packing up his office, wrapped it, and stuck it in my drawer. Kind of a going-away present from him. After I speculate about it for a while, I bite my lip and stare at my computer.
What would it hurt? I finally decide, opening an instant message window.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4, 10:21 A.M.
Libby.Foster:
Thank you
Jude.Weatherington:
??
Libby.Foster:
I just found the present you left me
Kit Kat
My favorite
Jude.Weatherington:
Yre wlcme. Tht was donkeys ages ago, tho
Libby.Foster:
Clever packaging
Jude.Weatherington:
Tht’s me… cleevr
Libby.Foster:
Still a great typist, I see
Jude.Weatherington:
V
Libby.Foster:
Not nice
Jude.Weatherington:
How r u?
Libby.Foster:
Okay. You?
Jude.Weatherington:
Busy. TTYL?
Libby.Foster:
Sure
TTYL
THURSDAY, MARCH 5, 11:47 A.M.
Jude.Weatherington:
What did u hurt?
I stare at my computer screen for several seconds, first making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, that Jude really is initiating communication with me. Then I try to figure out what he means. Finally, I give up.
Libby.Foster:
??
Jude.Weatherington:
N the accdient
Oh. Hm.
Libby.Foster:
I thought I said no follow-up questions
Jude.Weatherington:
Dont anwer then
I cup my hands over my nose and mouth, my middle fingers stroking my eyebrows as I deliberate.
Jude.Weatherington:
U there?
Libby.Foster:
Shattered tibia, cracked ribs, broken hip, fractured skull. Various other broken bones in hands and feet. Bruises, cuts, and abrasions
Jude.Weatherington says:
Shit
U brke ur head?
I laugh out loud and cover my mouth so I don’t draw any attention to myself while I’m slacking off.
Libby.Foster:
Yes. Metal plate up there
Jude.Weatherington:
Tht explians a lot
Libby.Foster:
Doesn’t it?
Jude.Weatherington:
I’m still angry with you
Libby.Foster:
Understandable
I’m still a little mad at you, too
Jude.Weatherington:
Did I gve u blu-balls and break ur heart?
The smile dies on my face as my heart starts beating a little harder.
Libby.Foster:
No. Not the first part, anyway
Jude.Weatherington:
I dnt remember doing either
But I’ve tried to forget a lot
maybe I’m misremembering
It’s a lot easier to end an IM conversation that’s not going the way I want it to go. I simply don’t respond.
My morning chats with Jude are becoming a regular thing. If I don’t hear from him by noon, I feel compelled to send him a message, knowing that it’s 6 p.m. there, and he’s probably getting ready to go home. Or not. Once he IMed me at 4:00, which is 10:00 his time. When I asked him about it, he said, “Oh, is this weird? I hardly ever leave work before 11.” Of course, he didn’t type that neatly, and it took me a while to translate it, but that was the gist.
Since the day he asked about my accident, we haven’t discussed anything important or serious. But I’ve learned a lot about him and his life there. He still plays rugby, only with a “better group of blokes.” He visits his parents nearly every weekend, because “I have fuck-all else to do.” And he hates his “flat,” because it’s not his style at all, but he’s hardly ever there, anyway.
It’s fascinating stuff. Seriously. I have a hard time imagining him in any setting besides Chicago, even though I know he was a complete fish out of water here. But it sounds like he’s not really any more in his element over there, which is befuddling to me. I wish I could rig up a Jude Cam to follow him around and get a better idea of what’s going on in his life.
Today I get the next best thing. I get to set up a videoconference call between him and Gary. For the privilege, I have to arrive at work at 7:30, but it’s worth it. It was originally Lisa’s responsibility, but she had a conflict with her step-daughter’s school carpool, so I readily volunteered to step in.
“Are you sure?” she’d asked. “I can ask Zoe. Or Leslie.”
“No! I’m all over it!” I’d replied. “Really. As a matter of fact, I’d be glad to always be in charge of early meeting set-ups.” Because I know the earliest meetings are scheduled for Jude’s benefit.
“O…kay,” she said, but I walked off before she could ask any questions.
I’ve been here this morning since 7:15, awake since 4:30. I couldn’t sleep, knowing I was actually going to lay eyes on him for the first time in months. And he’s going to see me. But I didn’t spend a lot of time getting ready this morning. (Yeah, by this morning, I only had a few things left to do. I’d done all the other stuff last night before I went to bed.) Turns
