I sense flickers of my old self, the desire to lash out at him for waiting so long to tell me this, the urge to call and heap part of the blame for this mess back onto him. I’m willing to bear the weight of your words, but not the burden of 28 years of silence. That’s on you, Lucas.
But now I can see that my normal inclinations—attack, criticize, insult—they’re actually all defense mechanisms, ways to hide feelings from myself that hurt too much to acknowledge. I’ve reached a point now where it hurts more to leave the truth unspoken.
So instead of continuing a war I’m no longer interested in fighting, I hit reply and hope to God it’s not too late.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: You’re wrong, but for the right reasons.
Please come home so we can talk. You think you have everything figured out, but you’re wrong. I wasn’t ever going to take that job. Yes, I considered it—would you have respected me if I hadn’t? You know it has always been my dream to own my own practice. For years, I worked for that goal, so when it was delivered to me on a silver platter, I had to take a second to think about it.
Would you believe that someone you’ve known your whole life is capable of change? I hope so, because I think that’s what is happening here. To us. Don’t you see? Your email wasn’t the 352nd of something, it was the first.
Please let there be a second.
Love,
Daisy
___
My night is spent hitting the refresh button on my browser over and over and over. I hover over my inbox, waiting for a new email to pop up from Lucas, but I’m not shocked that he never replies. The next day, when I go into the office with puffy eyes and droopy shoulders, Dr. McCormick informs me that Lucas has requested the rest of the week off. The anger I’d hoped would dissipate overnight has only grown stronger, and I don’t blame him. What seemed like petulant behavior yesterday now seems wholly justified. I had all night to think over my actions and I don’t blame Lucas for his anger. I don’t blame him for walking out. No wonder he looked defeated. No wonder he didn’t put a fight. How tired must he be after 28 years of the same routine? Him putting himself on the line, me completely bulldozing over his feelings. Oblivious. Na?ve. Selfish. To think that I might have taken that job is the true lesson in all this. I might have provoked Lucas into action over the years, but he was never really the bad guy.
I was.
I have no clue where Lucas is or how long he intends to ignore me, but I’m not going to give up.
If I want to reach him, I’m going to have to try a little harder. And I will. Because for 28 years, Lucas tried hard for me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hey
Work sucks without you. I had an itch under my cast and now one of your chopsticks is stuck in there. Please call me back, I need a doctor.
___
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Emails
I’m sorry, that was a bad attempt at humor, which is me trying to avoid being honest. Do you still have the other 351 emails? I’d like to read them. Even if you want nothing to do with me, the least you can do is send me those emails. Or are you going to make me write 350 more of these before you respond? It might take a while—I’m having to hit the keyboard with the end of that chopstick to type.
___
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Emails
I’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRYI’MSORRY I’MSORRYI’MSORRY.
PS Are you reading these?
___
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hi
Hi, this is uhm, Macy. I’m a sexy single in your area, and I was wondering
Okay, it actually is me. Can we talk? PLEASE? I made this email address in case you blocked my other one. You are so stubborn. Who doesn’t reply to emails and phone calls for DAYS?! Are you trying to punish me? I get it, I deserve it, but I want to move past this, and we can’t do that if we can’t talk.
Also, that chopstick wound is probably infected now, so if we don’t talk soon, we’ll have to schedule my apology tour around my amputation and recovery.
Daisy
___
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Emails
I’m not giving up.
Daisy
___
I know it will take drastic measures to win Lucas over. Emails and phone calls aren’t enough; I’ll have to get creative. I dial Madeleine.
“I need your help getting Lucas somewhere on Saturday night.”
“Really? It’s been too long since you’ve tormented him. Are you going to pull a prank because—”