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256 pages, Paperback
First published August 28, 2013
She waited until Thursday after work to call him, figuring that was the latest she could call to ensure a date for the weekend without looking too eager.
Here was a new medium. Now she would get to hear his voice again. And yet she appreciated that they had relied solely on the written word over [the] past two weeks. It struck her as something quaint and Romantic, especially because they had avoided the choppy, casual style of writing so often seen in emails and texts. They had used complete sentences and semicolons. If a noun deserved a capital, it was granted that honor.
So this was what it had come to. Annoying him, annoying herself, just so she could make it unambiguously clear what she thought, and then say it once more for good measure. And it was not for his benefit - it was for her own. Lately the mere thought of him would suddenly engender a dizzying fear of loss. The loss of her beliefs, her opinions, her identity. This was the only way she could reconcile her feelings toward him. For every positive feeling he elicited in her, she had to counter it with something that felt true to herself. She had to purge the pleasure she took in his smile with SUV crash statistics and fuel economy projections.
But there was another possibility that she considered as she sat there in the wake of those words. They might not be simply a reminder of her political views. Those sentences could very well be barriers that she was throwing down, like someone strewing any available object - a chair, a wastebasket - in their path, hoping at least one of those items would trip the pursuer.
Would she ever stop with the blockades? If she could never let down her guard, then what exactly was the point of continuing this?
His lifting her up like that - scooping her up like the proverbial bride. She was not supposed to take such pleasure in that. Nor was she supposed to enjoy it so much when he put his arm around her and pulled her into the nook of his shoulder, and she became a small part of him under there, hiding. And being his little one - that was the most shameful one of all. It was her new guilty pleasure. How distraught she would be if he stopped calling her that. Don't betray yourself, Emily. Don't forget who you were before you met him. She could tell herself that all she wanted, but the truth was, if he asked her to live with him and be his dutiful wife, not that he would but if he did ask her to change her name and settle down and learn how to make a good pot roast, she suspected she would not react with immediate outrage. The battle would come eventually - she knew she would never be able to do it. But he dulled the outrage, and that scared her half to death.
"Carson, have you ever though we could just be wasting our time? Do you really think that my scooter is going to counteract all of those North Prospect housewives in their Hurons? Or that my lonely little boycott of Dynamo Burger is going to save the rainforest? Rachel's stupid prank basically convinced the whole town to donate their own money to buy another Hummer. And even Andy's grants and GeoForce's efforts are drops in the bucket. Compare my rally to 8.8 million acres of land ruined with a signature. We can't win that fight. We could probably make more of a difference if we sold out and took high-paying corporate jobs and then used our money to make big changes, like Bill Gates does. Maybe we only work at a nonprofit because it makes us feel better. There is a very good chance that what we're doing is not making any difference and we're just wasting our time. Think globally, act locally may just be a big scam, and we've all been duped."
"So give me your thesis statement on yourself," he said.
She looked off to the side for a few moments, trying to decide how to play it. Obviously with some humor, but perhaps laced with a bit of truth for good measure.
"Emily is a warm soul who is passionate about protecting the environment, and she acts on that passion. Essentially, she is close to perfection without going over."
He laughed. "OK, now give me your thesis statement on me."
She barely paused before answering.
"Although Robert has a sharp intelligence and very strict work ethic, his ideas and intentions are oftentimes misguided."
"Now I'll give you my thesis statement about you.
"What about your thesis on yourself?
"No, I want to give one about you. But I'll definitely include myself in it, how's that?"
"All right."
"Even though my blood pressure tells me not to, even though every tree-hugging, granola-eating, bleeding-heart liberal I've ever met reminds me why I shouldn't, I can't help but like Emily Crossley."
"So do you still want to get a movie?" she said.
"Hmm."
"Maybe a short one?"
He smiled. "A short one is good."
"The video store is halfway across town."
"Well, drive fast then."
She laughed, but did drive fast. They were back at her house, movie in hadn, in less than fifteen minutes. They had practiacally grabbed the first one they saw.
The take-out menus were in her desk in the other room, but they only got as far as the couch.
"I told you to drive faster," he said into her neck.
"I tried."
"I told you that I dealt with how everything turned out with us just fine. I accepted it as just one of those things."
"So give me your thesis statement on yourself," he said.
She looked off to the side for a few moments, trying to decide how to play it. Obviously with some humor, but perhaps laced with a bit of truth for good measure.
"Emily is a warm soul who is passionate about protecting the environment, and she acts on that passion. Essentially, she is close to perfection without going over."
He laughed. "OK, now give me your thesis statement on me."
She barely paused before answering.
"Although Robert has a sharp intelligence and very strict work ethic, his ideas and intentions are oftentimes misguided."
"Now I'll give you my thesis statement about you.
"What about your thesis on yourself?
"No, I want to give one about you. But I'll definitely include myself in it, how's that?"
"All right."
"Even though my blood pressure tells me not to, even though every tree-hugging, granola-eating, bleeding-heart liberal I've ever met reminds me why I shouldn't, I can't help but like Emily Crossley."
"So do you still want to get a movie?" she said.
"Hmm."
"Maybe a short one?"
He smiled. "A short one is good."
"The video store is halfway across town."
"Well, drive fast then."
She laughed, but did drive fast. They were back at her house, movie in hadn, in less than fifteen minutes. They had practiacally grabbed the first one they saw.
The take-out menus were in her desk in the other room, but they only got as far as the couch.
"I told you to drive faster," he said into her neck.
"I tried."
"I told you that I dealt with how everything turned out with us just fine. I accepted it as just one of those things."