And it Will Feel Like Truth — Day Six
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Ignoring Russ proves harder than I would imagine. He picks me up like we planned and the entire time roommate and I talk about my boyfriend, who just recently surprised me at the campus for Valentine’s Day. I’m still reeling from it all. I was so thrown by him coming down I completely forgot about a shift I had at the library and almost lost my job.
He also stayed with Russ.
Now, we feel as if we have a connection. A common ground. Something to talk about and fill the air with so I’m not freaking out because I am going to be talking to teenagers about sex or being in this strange boy’s car.
The strange boy that I am so curious about….I blink and shake my head.
“Did you get my note?” I ask, turning toward him for a brief moment before looking back down at the hem of my shirt. I wrote him a thank you note for letting my boyfriend stay with him at such quick notice. My heart skyrockets up to my throat and I try to clear it without being obvious. I’m always choking or coughing with this guy. The words clamor to get out and I am forcing them down, afraid of what I might say if they had the chance to breathe. He’s going to think I have tuberculosis or something.
Russ nods his head.
“I did.” He focuses on the road, not looking at me. “I’m glad he was able to come down. Did you guys have fun?”
I mirror his nod. It’s about the only thing I can think to do.
“I was…I was really surprised.”
He hides a grin and shrugs. “I guess it was successful then?”
My roommate interrupts from the backseat and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Has Elora told you about the time….”
My roommate is the real MVP that night, keeping the conversation languid and focused. It helps that we’ve known each other since grade school so the stories are so numerous there’s no way we’ll lack anything to talk about on the way there. I’m forever grateful for her filling in the quiet spaces because I’m sitting in the front seat losing my shit.
We get to the church and I give my talk, complete with Jessica Simpson’s song about waiting before she married Nick Lachey. I know. We all know how that turned out, but in the moment, it was sweet and fit within my evangelical mindset. I have the kids write letters to their future spouses, and like any good facilitator, I join them.
I sit down across from my roommate and grab a pen. She looks at me in confusion.
“Are you just writing a letter to your boyfriend?”
We both laugh. We’ve already had that conversation multiple times: I’m pretty sure he’s the one, but I don’t want to jinx anything so I try not to focus on it. But that’s pretty much what I’m thinking about when I put pen to paper — I’m writing to him.
Hey love,
I write. I think nothing of it. I don’t call boyfriend “love” — I don’t call him anything other than his name. Whatever. He won’t mind.
You could be anywhere in the world right now. You could even be in this room….
Now there’s something.
My hand starts to shake a little bit and I tap the pen against the table before moving forward. I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe it’s just because of the emotion. This past month has moved at break-neck speed and I’m just feeling a little topsy turvy, that’s all. It doesn’t mean doubt. Not at all. I think back to my boyfriend and conjure the moments we had by the lake, at the diner, in his car, and suddenly Jessica Simpson is replaced with Lifehouse and I’m blushing because those moments were not so innocent. My pen starts gliding across the paper again and soon, I’m finished.
My roommate tries to glance at my paper but I hide the words with my hand.
This note has just turned sacred. I fold it multiple times and drop it into my pocket. No one is seeing this one.
I’m quiet on the way home. Russ and my roommate fill the air with conversation and I laugh where I need to and moan appreciatively when Russ buys me a coke at a local gas station. I don’t want to deal with the feelings I’m experiencing, and so I go inward and look out the window at the wheat fields rushing by, my arm curled against my stomach so I avoid any accidental contact with Russ.
I think I throw the note away when I get back to the dorm. I’m not sure what happens to it. I don’t give it to anyone, and four years later when I need it, it’s nowhere to be found. I never forget those first few lines though. To this day I believe it was a mixture of my intuition and the Universe trying to get my attention.
See that boy over there in the corner? The one with the frosted tips? Pay attention to how you feel when you’re around him. It’s a lot like being rooted. And his smile and touch will send you flying through the air.
