Date: Jul 13 11:55 PM
SUBJECT: RE: It’s my birthday so why not?
Thank you for reaching out. It’s always nice to hear from my readers. That sounded narcissistic, didn’t it? I should probably erase this and start over, but it’s late, and to be honest, I usually don’t open my emails. My agent does. God, that sounds terrible too. I swear I’m not a conceited, pompous asshole. I’m new to this published-author thing and the navigation of it all seems overwhelming at times. For example, after reading your message, I figured maybe I should read a few more. Bad idea. There are some things a man will never unsee.
But on a more serious note, I wanted to tell you, I admired your candid words. I’m humbled, actually. It’s easy for me to forget how lucky I am to be able to live out and proud, and I wish, for you, that one day you will be able to as well. Life is too short to live in bubbles. I hope you get to break yours soon.
And, to answer your question, I have seen that movie. The scene in the sewer always makes me gag. I don’t think there’s anything I’d ever want bad enough that I would crawl through miles of shit and piss for it. Also, please, call me Wilder, as Mr. Welles makes me think of my father and his overgrown mustache… and something personal for you since you were so open with me, “Jake” is the only person who’s ever been allowed to call me Wild.
Anyway, I think it’s easier sometimes, talking to a stranger. There’s no history or judgment to deal with, is there? So, thank you for thinking my book is a revelation, and for trusting me with your own story. Hopefully one day you’ll find your own happily ever after.
Happy Birthday, Jordan
Wilder~
P.S. I think, if Tolkien were alive today, I’d ask him why he didn’t allow for an openly gay hobbit relationship. It’s obvious to anyone the feelings these two halflings share for each other.
“Did he email you back?” June was way too excited about my late-night correspondence.
I tore my croissant in half and placed it on June’s plate. “No, why would he?”
“How did you end the letter?” she asked, peeling back the wrapper on a packet of jelly.
“I told him thank you and happy birthday.”
She paused. Her plastic knife, covered with strawberry preserves, hovered over her pastry. “You never told me it was his birthday.”
“Does it matter?” I asked, annoyed with all of her questions. She was making this a bigger deal than it needed to be. “This isn’t a big deal.”
June shrugged. “A complete stranger emails you to say thanks for writing a character he can relate to. Jake being the said character, aka Jax, the guy who obliterated your heart, turned you into the unfeeling manslayer that you are, a stranger who, I might also add, is admittedly in the closet as well, and you don’t feel the least bit triggered by that?”
“Not at all,” I lied, sipping from my coffee cup to hide my facial expression. June was a walking lie detector. “And I am not a manslayer.”
She wiped her hands on a napkin and narrowed her eyes. “What did Anders say?”
Shit. She was like a bloodhound.
“I didn’t tell him about it.”
“Really.” She smiled. “That’s interesting.”
“June, you’re exhausting.” Exhaling, I asked, “Why would I tell Anders I answered some fan mail? It’s not a big deal, so cut the shit. Don’t you have to get to work? Aren’t there some babies that need to be born today?”
“My shift doesn’t start for another half an hour.” She played with the string dangling from her cup of tea.
“Great.” I gave her a wide, fake smile, and she threw a packet of sugar at me. “Jesus, are we twelve now?”
“Wilder, I’ve known you for five years. And I know when something is off.”
“I should have never befriended you. I should have walked right out of the Cup and Quill and never looked back.” I playfully kicked her foot under the table. “You’ve been nothing but a pain in my ass since that day.”
She snorted. “I was your favorite barista, don’t lie.”
“My point exactly. I should have never helped you study during nursing school. I could be drinking my favorite latte right now. You know it always helped me with writer’s block?”
“You can’t distract me with flattery. Tell me what’s going on with you and Anders?” Her humor faded.
I could try to deflect all day, but June was too smart for that. It’s why I loved her. She worked her way through nursing school without asking for any handouts. Her parents, like mine, had decided that they’d rather have no child than a gay one. Sure, I’d helped her with chemistry, but she’d graduated with honors because she’d busted her ass. Now she worked in labor and delivery, and if I could have a baby, I wouldn’t let anyone else in the room but her. She was more than my best friend. She was like a sister to me, and it’s why I knew I could always trust her, even with things I didn’t trust myself with.
“I don’t think I should be with him anymore,” I admitted.
“As an agent or a boyfriend?”
“He’s never been my boyfriend.” She pinned me with an impatient glare. “As a guy I sleep with. I always feel like such an awful person when we’re on again. He wants a white picket fence and I’m not…”
“Over Jax, oh, I know.”
It was my turn to glare. “I’m not ready. I’m not fit for that big of a commitment. Everything is finally happening for me. I want to enjoy it and not have to worry whose feelings might get hurt or about anything else right now.”
“Anders isn’t right for you anyway.”
There was this hollow spot underneath my breastbone that longed to be filled by something other than regret. “What if I never find it again, what I had with Jax before it all fell to shit?”
“You will. It might never be the same as Jax, but who says it has to be. Love who you want, just give yourself a chance to feel it.” She reached across the small table and gave my hand a short squeeze.
“Sorry I treat you like my surrogate parent sometimes.”
“We make our own families, you know that.” June’s expression darkened.
“Are Gwen’s parents still giving you a hard time?”
“I honestly don’t know what bothers them more. That I’m black, or that their daughter is a lesbian.” She pulled her wallet out of her bag and opened it.
She threw a twenty onto the table as I asked, “What does Gwen say?”
June laughed. “She said fuck ’em.”
“Amen.” I raised my cup and she did the same, tapping them together in solidarity.
“I better get going.” June pulled her bag over her shoulder as she stood. “You better tell me if that guy emails you back.”
“He’s not going to email me back.”
“But you want him to?”
“Go to work.”
She hummed. “Mm-hmm.”
“You really are a pain in the ass…”