I keep thinking about what she said. About finding someone when you’re not looking. I definitely was not looking. I never thought I’d be looking.
Apparently, I’ve done a real one-eighty over here because suddenly, I’m thinking about Rowan’s beautiful face. About her smile. About her laugh. I’m thinking about me making her smile. Making her laugh. About how that would be a great way to break the silence. I’m thinking about kissing her. I’m thinking about doing actual romantic things.
My eyes are blurry from looking at the computer screen for so long, so I blink a few times to try and focus. Squinting, I use the trackpad to hit the delete button on the draft, but a second later, the email disappears, and I hear a swoosh sound accompany it.
Oh no. Oh, fucking no.
Panic sets in, the worst panic than I’ve ever felt in my life. My eyes focus real freaking fast, and my fingers move with astonishing speed. In under a second, I’m staring at my sent messages, and the draft email to Rowan is at the top of the list. I think about all the ways to recall an email, but I figure it’s already too late.
All I can do is set my laptop aside and brace myself for impact—the impact of a giant shit meteor about to hit my stupid-ass self. What the double duty freaking hell was I thinking? How could I have even written that, let alone mistakenly sent it?
This whole thing has really helped me learn about myself. It’s made me realize that it is indeed possible to sink to brand new lows every single day.
Sure enough, less than a minute later, my phone dings. I’ve shut my laptop off and set it aside where it can’t do any more harm, but my phone is sitting on the coffee table. I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth. Hard. Hard enough to do serious damage. But since I don’t like going to the dentist, I let up on it and instead settle for a long, drawn-out sigh that pretty much sums up how screwed I am right now.
Finally, my arm shoots out and grabs my phone. I brace myself as I swipe to my emails. There, at the top, is Rowan’s name in bold. Unread. I know it would be ridiculous and cowardly not to read it, so I force myself to click on the email.
Cliff,
I’m pretty sure that message wasn’t for me. Does that mean your date was a success?
Have a good night,
Rowan
She’s so diplomatic that it nearly kills me. I had made the mistake of a lifetime, but she just dismissed it in the next breath. I could tell her the date was great and that the message was for someone else, but it would be an asshole thing to do. Plus, she’d follow up with Lisa and find out I was lying. Then where would that leave me? I’d prefer not to dig myself into a deeper shit hole filled with shitty excuses and shitty lies and just shit in general. I know I have to come clean.
My phone makes annoying clicking noises as I type a response.
Rowan,
No, that wasn’t meant for someone else. It wasn’t meant to be sent at all. I tried to delete it and sent it by mistake. I think there’s a good chance that mortification might kill me before you do. Unless… unless there’s any chance that you might take pity on me and save me from the oppressive silence of boredom and agree to let me pick you up. I have this place I like to go to. There’s this abandoned barn just outside the city. It’s pretty cool, especially at night. I used to go there with friends all the time in high school. It’s still there. No, we never got shot at. Yes, I’m pretty sure it is on private property. No, I also don’t think anyone actually cares. Yes, we could just sit in the car and stare at it from the back road. Yes, I do promise to get a full tank of gas along the way. Yes, we can talk about my date and about all of that if you want to ignore what I just said and keep everything on the professional level. No, I won’t be disappointed if you tell me to never contact you again because you think I’m extremely creepy.
Cliff
I send that off and wait. I don’t know what made me suggest picking her up. It’s Saturday night, and it’s already late. Like, really late. Inappropriately late. By the time I get to her house and pick her up, it would already be after eleven.
My phone dings in my hand as another email comes in. Of course, it’s from Rowan. I open it without thinking, and my heart speeds up to the point where my pulse nearly rips out of my neck when I read her response.
Cliff,
I haven’t broken the law in a very long time unless you count going five kilometers or so over the speed limit every now and then. If you’re asking for this to be a professional debriefing about your date at a very strange spot, then I guess I can’t refuse. I don’t have work tomorrow, so I guess it doesn’t matter what time it is. If you promise to fill your car up before you pick me up, and also let me inspect it, so we don’t get stranded in the middle of nowhere where there is dubious phone reception, then I guess I have no reason to refuse. After all, I can’t be responsible for the monster of silence in your house, devouring you. I was going to delete that line because it sounds stupid, but I’ll just leave it. Maybe like that, we can
