“You know I’ve sort of met your agent too,” Elliot shares, a smile gracing his lips casually. “After I read your book, I emailed her and asked where to find you.”
“You did?” I ask, shocked by his creativity and his equally stalker-like behavior that I once exhibited.
I guess trying to find each other really didn’t bring out the best in us and now that we’re here, it all feels very over the top. Something that the outside world screamed at us, something people told us was stupid, now does feel like that in some way. With how easily my book brought us together, it’s something I wish I’d thought of earlier rather than traipsing around the United States in search of him.
“I did and I also emailed your publishing company too, but I drew the line at showing up at their office and deciding to harass the admin at the front desk. Something about that felt like bordering on…”
“Stalking?” I say, finishing his thought and smirking at him playfully.
“I was trying to think of a better word, but yeah.” He teases me, shooting a wink my way as he holds the door open and I step through.
As soon as we walk through the door, Melanie, the front desk admin, doesn’t immediately look up. I know she’s waiting for us to walk up to her and explain what we’re here for, but I don’t need to do that. I usually walk straight through to the bank of elevators and hit the button for the third floor that will take me to my agent Sara’s office. But today I stop at the front desk, because there’s no way Melanie is going to let us get by without meeting Elliot.
Like everyone else in this office, she was obsessed with my story, with mine and Elliot’s story, and would probably be pretty pissed if I walked on by without introducing her. Even though my book is billed as fiction, people wanted to know where my inspiration came from and I’ve shared it many times. It felt as if that real life connection only added to people’s love for the book.
The trouble with working for a big publisher is that everyone wants their books published by them and the amount of people off the street who show up here with their book in hand is extensive. Melanie still doesn’t look up despite us standing directly in front of her and I clear my throat loudly.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, an air of annoyance flitting out of her words. I get it. Most of the people who come in here don’t have an appointment.
“I don’t, but I would like to speak to Sara Waters. I wrote this book.” I intentionally stop short of finishing my sentence because I’ve seen her in action and I can’t wait for her to start her spiel. I’m already grinning knowing I’m totally screwing with her.
“If you are interested in having Miss Waters review your manuscript please refer to the submission guidelines listed on our website. We do not respond to in-person inqu—” She stops short of finishing her thought when she looks up and sees me standing in front of her. “Nora, seriously? Do you enjoy annoying me? Just go up. Sara’s in her office.” She shakes her head letting out an exasperated sigh, but also accompanies it with a sweet smile.
“You’re getting pretty good at that script. You didn’t even look up till you got to ‘inquiry’. You used to look up at ‘submission guidelines’. See, it’s good that I stopped today. Keeps you on your toes.”
She now looks over at Elliot and it takes her a second to register that it’s not Ryan. Everyone here knew Ryan. They knew I had chosen to stop searching, so to see me standing here with someone else has to send up a few red flags.
Melanie looks back at me, an almost questioning look on her face, coupled with an awkward confusion. She doesn’t want to ask the question. She’s not like my dad who demanded to know what happened to Ryan.
“So, I stopped by today because I wanted to introduce everyone to Elliot,” I say, letting my words sink in and it takes Melanie a few seconds to process what I’ve just told her. She’s silent, looking at me with eyes slightly wider, her mouth open just a little and when she finally catches up, the squeal she lets out causes everyone in the lobby to look at us.
She flies out from around the desk, shrieking and hopping around. Her excitement is contagious and I’m grinning from ear to ear. When she flings herself into my arms, she catches me off guard nearly knocking me over, but I don’t care.
This is the reaction I hoped most people would have even if they thought my exhaustive search was stupid, even if they didn’t think I’d find him. I wanted people to believe in the power of love, in the efforts of fate and hold out that hope. I wanted them to see that sometimes the universe works with you even if it takes thirteen years.
“Oh my god!” she screeches, flapping her hands in front of her. “You’re Elliot? The real Elliot? I totally fell in love with you after reading Nora’s book. Like seriously, perfection. You’re amazing!”
He seems taken aback which is what I expected. While he’s confident and carries himself with control, this is overwhelming and this will all be strange for him.
Everyone we meet will think they know him and in a way they do, but it’s not real life they’ve found him in. It’s the romanticized version I created in a book, in a character. He’s without flaws and without anxiety or worries, he’s without the fear of being judged and questioned. He’s a deeply woven character of the guy I met on the beach thirteen years ago mixed with qualities of perfection.
I never intended to create something that was unattainable. It was just the way the story flowed, the way the words came to me in a cathartic and comforting manner even if they weren’t the reality. It was fiction, fact-based fiction, but it was still fiction and I have to remind people of that. I even have to remind myself, too.
“Thanks,” he replies, but the word comes out stilted and I step closer to him, sliding my hand into his. I squeeze, trying to provide him with the comfort he provides me.
“We know you love the story,” I reply to Melanie, rolling my eyes as I try to slip away without much more excitement. I need to be cognizant that us being together will cause people to react this way, and as much as I’m thrilled by it, it will take Elliot some time to get used to it.
I’ve spent the better part of the year interacting with readers about their love of Elliot, so it’s easy for me to separate the fiction from the reality, but this is Elliot’s first exposure.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have more time to swoon over Elliot later. We don’t want to scare him off right away.” I wrinkle up my nose and nod my head a little, encouraging her to head back behind her desk all aloof and annoyed.
Again I squeeze Elliot’s hand, but I can tell this interaction is making him uncomfortable, so I begin to make my way over to the elevators. I can feel the eyes of the lobby on us, watching us and either wondering who we are or already knowing who Elliot is.
If I can feel this, I know it’s magnified for him and I hate that he wasn’t prepared for this, that I didn’t prepare him for this. But I don’t know what to say now or how to move forward from here. So we both step into the elevator, silent and awkward, not speaking.
“Are you okay?” I ask when the doors close, realizing I should’ve done more to prepare him for this. It’s like any form of art, people fall in love with it. They fall in love with the characters, they see themselves in the characters, they want the life they live and they want the simplicity of existing in a world where realism is suspended.