Oliver taught me traditional Scottish dances, a feat which should’ve earned him a medal. He looked hilarious in his kilt. (I attached a photo to this email.) We danced for a while, and then he persuaded me to eat haggis. Awful stuff. I didn’t like it one bit.
We are mates. That’s all. I know he likes me, but he hasn’t mentioned any non-friend feelings. So I’ll pretend I don’t notice and carry on with our escapades. Maybe I’m wicked to keep my mouth shut. Maybe I should tell him I’m in love with someone who no longer exists.
But I’m afraid he’ll leave once he finds out.
He makes Atteberry seem less dreary with his cowlicked hair and ridiculous smile. We laugh a lot when we’re together. On Wednesdays we drive the motorcycle to knitting club, then stop by the café for dessert. Sometimes we organize Norman and Martha’s living room into a makeshift cinema, and we screen vintage movies.
Faith, I only have a few more letters to read, and I’m nearing the conclusion of Elias’s novel. Part of me needs to know what happens because . . . I still believe I’ll meet Elias somehow. But if I finish the book, all this comes to an end.
FaceTime me when you get the chance.
Josie
P.S. Mum is dating a young bloke. Coincidence?
From: Faith Moretti <[email protected]>
Sent: Saturday, October 2, 8:37 AM
To: Josie De Clare <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: About Elias Roch and Life Stuff
Josie, I’ll begin with the less spectacular news.
My fall semester includes a lot of classes, homework, and midnight trips to the gym. Last night I saw my Mass Media and Society professor on the elliptical and fled to the locker room so I wouldn’t laugh at him. He wore spandex and a sweatband. Total babe magnet.
A new bookstore opened on my block. It has three floors and a spiral staircase. Pretty sure I keep its coffee bar in business. If you ever visit New York, I’ll take you to the shop, and we can sip lattes while perusing the aisles.
Do me a favor and sit down for this next part.
Noah came to my apartment yesterday out of the blue. I answered the door while wearing a nose-peel thingy. Like, the kind used to tear out blackheads.
He apologized for pressuring me about the engagement and presented a peace offering of Starbucks coffee. We chatted for a while. Noah said he’d pushed for marriage because he wanted to spend his life with me and didn’t see the point of waiting.
But he swore he’d wait until I was ready.
At that moment I thought about you and Elias, how you’d give anything for ten minutes with him. I mean, I can go on dates with Noah, talk to him face-to-face. He lives down the block, not two hundred years in the past. Okay . . . so yeah, I kind of broke up with Noah. Don’t freak out. (I’m imagining your expression. Jaw dropped. Brows raised. Eyes all buggy.)
The breakup wasn’t bad like last time. I think we both realized we still have a lot of growing up to do. Believe me. We love each other. And who knows? Maybe we’ll get back together one day, after we do our study abroad trips. Yep. That’s right.
I’m going to Milan for that fashion internship.
Please don’t act grim and sympathetic. This is a good thing, Josie. I’m excited for the first time in months. When I moved back to New York, I struggled to decide what I wanted from life. My family hoped I’d get married and settle into this future they’d dreamed up for me. Noah had wants too. And I felt guilty for loving him but not wanting him.
I broke up with Noah for that reason. He wasn’t my first choice. Each time I think about my future, I picture my own store and clothing line and maybe a family. Maybe Noah. Maybe that house in Jersey. And he does not deserve a maybe life.
Really, I think my happy ending right now isn’t getting the boy. It’s doing what I’m passionate about, moving forward in a direction I choose.
Lots of girls believe they’ll be happier once they find Prince Charming, but marriage isn’t a fairy godmother waving a wand to change a pumpkin into a carriage. It doesn’t instantly transform people into better versions of themselves. Instead, it brings couples together and asks them to use love as a reason to become better. It’s hard. It sure as heck doesn’t make life easier.
Maybe one day I’ll be ready for the challenge.
Not everyone will understand my reasons for breaking up with Noah. (I’ve already received half a dozen calls from our parents, voicemails from his sister, and an opinionated Facebook message from Uncle Sal.) But that’s okay. We each must live our own story, like you said in your email. This story belongs to me.
Despite the breakup, I’m glad Noah and I dated. Our relationship shouldn’t have lasted so long. We met at a middle-school dance. We dated via FaceTime while I was at Stonehill. I must say the miracle wasn’t that we ended up together. It was finding each other in the first place.
We’ll stay friends and see what happens.
There. You have my news. Now I want to talk about you and your boy problems. First off, I’m glad you’re reading the chapters, but your predictions aren’t one hundred percent correct. Keep reading. The book’s conclusion may help you make sense of your situation.
Please don’t hate me for saying this . . .
I want you with Oliver. The fact he knitted you a hat gives me all the feels. Yeah, I know you don’t like him. He deserves to know where you stand, though.
Your
