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later, not even that was certain.

       Chapter Five

      From: Eira Larson

      To: Matthew Noble

      Subject: Please Read This Right NOW: I’m Going to be Totally Honest

      Date: October 12, 2004

       Right now I’m terrified.

       Again, I don’t really know how I should be feeling, but terrified is one of the first things that comes to mind.

       I want to be happy.

       I want to be able to take the memory of Friday night and for it to be simple.

      I want to take the memory of your face, your hands, your taste, the ridge of your jaw, your hair in my fingers – the feeling of you so close that all I wanted to do was get closer – I want to be able to think about all of those things without the sickening feeling that it was all a lie.

       Was it?

       Was it just some conjuring of my imagination that’s going to dissipate in the next gust of wind? I feel like I’ve lost my equilibrium, and I have no one to talk to about this except you. Only you know what you were thinking, so please tell me, Matt.

       We crossed the line we’ve been dancing next to for so long, and now I need to know where to go from here. I have no choice but to take your lead. As much as I trust you, I’m afraid of what you could do to me. You already knew you had the upper hand, but now I have nothing. I laid down all of my defenses, and now I feel like I’m waiting for the destroying blow, like I’m playing Battleship with someone who can see my board.

       When will I sink?

       Is this the part where you forget my name?

       Is this the part where our friendship dissolves, and I never hear from you again, or the part where you tell me it was all a mistake?

       Are you simply going to tell me that you were just feeling adventurous and wanted to see how far you could push the limit? I’m not asking this out of anger. I’m asking it with the heart of someone who has been stripped completely bare. I’m aware, as I write this, how cynical this all sounds. It makes me sad, how quickly fear follows on the heels of happiness.

       For one night, I was in a fairy tale.

       But I’m not naive, and you’ve plainly stated so many times how much you don’t want a relationship. With me. So now I’m anticipating something, some explanation of things in the same vein.

       Or maybe I should just expect silence.

       You wouldn’t be the first man in history to decide to throw friendship under the wheels of a bus, giving in to hormonal whims and walking away as though nothing has happened. But I’m hoping you’re above that.

      I’m trusting that you’re above that. Please don’t prove me a fool. You have so much power in your hands right now, and I don’t know if you’re even aware.

       I need to talk to you, I need to be able to look into your eyes and see what’s going on with you. We owe each other that much, I think, because at this point, the most damaging thing we could do to our relationship is to not talk about this.

       Face to face.

       You’ve become my best friend, Matt, and I thought you felt at least that much for me. Please don’t prove me mistaken on that, as well.

       I’m feeling so alone right now in this attempt to sort things out. All of the women’s magazines and relationship books ever published have articles that scream at women over their stupidity in situations like this. All of the evidence, all of the patterns should be enough to keep me on my toes, strapped in to a bullet-proof vest.

       But maybe I really am a fool.

      I wanted to be able to go home and talk about things with someone – my sister, my mom – someone.

       Someone who would listen to me excitedly relay the events of a date and the possibility of more dates in the future.

       I wanted to run up and down your street shouting at the top of my lungs that you had finally kissed me. Instead, I had to go home and try to fall asleep with an excited rush of blood pounding in my ears, all the while trying to keep a firm grip on reality. Because this is the reality: I want there to be a later, and you don’t.

      I’ve heard experts say that couples should expect nothing from each other. That way, when one of them does something – washing the dishes without being asked or putting a load of laundry in the dryer or bringing home a bouquet of roses – it’s a surprise and that much more appreciated.

       I never expect anything from you, and maybe that’s been my problem.

       Having no expectations works within the commitment of marriage, but outside of that, it leaves you terribly vulnerable.

      I never expect anything from you, so when you call – at 4 a.m. in the middle of a hurricane, from California when you’re on your way to a buddy’s wedding, while you’re out having new tires put on your truck – I come running. I come running in the hopes that maybe something will make you change your mind, and I live with the delusion that maybe being your fallback plan will change. I’m worth more than being a fallback plan, just as you are worth more than being some woman’s one-night stand.

       I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wondering how you spent your weekend and if you were thinking about me at all.

       I’d be lying if I said I really didn’t care.

       I don’t know if your kisses were a lie, but mine weren’t, and I won’t say it was a mistake.

      Please talk to me, Matt. We need to talk about this – no phones, no computers, no fumbled explanations in a restaurant parking lot.

       Please.

       Yours,

       Eira

      From: Matthew Noble

       To: Eira Larson

      Subject: RE: Please Read This Right NOW: I’m Going to be Totally Honest

      Date: October 12, 2004

       Eira

       I was out all weekend with friends, so it isn’t that I chose to ignore you.

       All I can say is that I think you’re a great person, and I care about you as a friend. I wanted to feel more, but as I told you before, I don’t.

      I thought maybe Friday night would change things, make me feel something I didn’t already – that it would be different to kiss you and hold you – but it wasn’t.

      I can’t make myself feel something I don’t. That’s the bottom line – I was trying to make myself feel something I don’t; and in retrospect, it was a mistake.

       But I wouldn’t have known, had I not tried.

       I think we should be able to take Friday night,

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