Page 60 of Wish You Were Her
RE: Hello
Hi. I hope this isn’t alarming. It’s me. Disgruntled bookseller, or [email protected]. I thought I would email from my personal account—even though you didn’t show. If this is unwanted, please tell me or just block accordingly. I just felt like being brave because I’ve been a bit of a coward tonight.
I wish you had come. I don’t really know what you told Allegra when she answered the phone at the shop and took your message. Did you know you were leaving a message with a supernova? Probably not.
“Why didn’t you ask Allegra?” I hear you ask.
Because I can barely speak to Allegra. And that inability to speak in her presence eventually comes out as meanness. And I hate meanness. I hate people who try to make others feel small, but I tell myself that I’m not doing that with her. It’s self-defense, it’s protection, whatever. She can give as good as she gets, but she’s entitled to hate me. I’m an embarrassment around her. She takes away all of my sensible qualities and puts me in fight or flight mode. And I always pick fight because flight would mean no longer being around her.
Anyway. I was alone, waiting for you, when she delivered your message. It’s me. I’m Jonah. The bookseller you’ve been emailing. I hope we can meet one day. I hope I’m not a huge disappointment.
I hope, I hope, I hope.
Have a great evening. Wish you were her.
Jonah
Allegra stared at the last sentence before his name and then a PS suddenly appeared in the thread.
PS SORRY ABOUT THAT, STUPID FINGERS, WISH YOU WERE HERE. HERE. I WISH YOU WERE HERE.
JONAH.
She was typing before reason could take hold.
Subject: Hello
I’m so sorry, Jonah. I should have been there.
She pressedSENDon her phone but before the small notification sound was even over, a knock on the bookshop window jolted her out of her reverie. She looked up to see Jonah and for one mortified moment, she foolishly wondered if he had worked out what she was doing. She shoved her phone away. He nodded to the door and she nodded back, silently telling him that it was unlocked.
He moved inside and she finally allowed herself to concede that he was extremely handsome, tall as he was with his dark curls and long lashes. She felt the tension in the room settle into something serious. It was the same way, sometimes, with a scene partner. Sometimes, just sometimes, the arduous setup, the rewrites, the blocking and the rehearsal were all finalized and then they dissipated to leave her and another actor with nothing but the beauty of making art together.
When Jonah walked toward her with an intensely focused expression, she knew that this was not their usual play. He eyed her appearance with a hint of hunger and Allegra didn’ttrust herself to speak. They were terrible and full of bluster when they spoke to each other. Two eighteen-year-olds who were ahead of their peers in so many ways, and so guarded and afraid of adulthood in so many other ways.
She slid off the desk and he came to stand in front of her, the two of them surrounded by tables of books in a dimly lit shop with no one else around. He was still in his suit and she in her dress, which suddenly felt like liquid that could be pulled away very easily.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, before she could think of a thing to say.
“What are you sorry for, Jonah?” she asked, barely a whisper.
“Everything. The way I spoke to you when you first came into the shop. And every day since.”
Allegra had kicked off her heels on reaching the front desk and so he had a few inches of height on her. She looked up into his face, marking the tiny dark circles under his eyes and the beauty of his mouth.
“It’s okay,” she said. “People get… weird around me.”
He was very close now. If anyone walked by the shop window they wouldn’t be able to see her. She was eclipsed by him.
“I know they do,” he said. “But I don’t want to be one of those people to you. The strange weirdos who want the interaction to be over so they can go and call someone about it. I want…”
His fingers were lightly brushing her forearms and he was almost pressed up against her. He smelled incredible.
“What do you want, Jonah?” she asked, mimicking the formal way he always spoke, that formality she had strangely started to crave. “What everyone else wants, right?” It wasn’t bitterness, really, it was regret.
