Page 50 of It Couldn't Be You
I took in a deep breath and then breathed out two words, “I guess.”
But I didn’t. I didn’t think about it. I took it as a fine compliment from an interesting man and then tucked it away in my mind, forgetting all about it until now. I opened up my laptop and clicked around until I was deep into my old work inbox. Until there it was, the email from Terrence Pell, open before me.
Hi Emma,
I’m Terrence Pell withHere & Theremagazine. You wrote a piece for your local paper on the camaraderie and community surrounding Sweet River ’s small-town football team recently. I really loved it. I actually bookmarked it and have returned to it a few times. I’m Canadian, but something about it made me relate with my own small-town community growing up. The piece was about high school football, but really it was about the heart of a small town. That’s exactly the kind of writing we’re doing atHere & There. I went and read a bit more of your work, and I’m a huge fan. If you’re open to it, we’re looking for more freelance writers. Most of our opportunities require some travel, but not all of them…
A little miracle flickering into my life, and I had snuffed it right out. Scared Emma and the choices she made. I scrolled down and realized I had replied to him a few days later, but just to send a thank you for his kind words. I closed my laptop, all regret. It was too late now. An opportunity lost. Now it would be far too rude to reach out. Awkward and rude.
I weaved through the coffee shop, picking up used mugs, tossing trash away, checking on customers, and wiping tables. There were people typing on their own laptops, people cozied up to thick books, people chatting over lattes, and I thought to myself,I don’t know this guy. Who cares if he finds me awkward and rude?
He’d probably just ignore me if he did. But if he didn’t find me awkward and rude, he’d probably give me an opportunity to write. I didn’t mind being the awkward, rude girl, but I was so over being the scared girl.
After I finished up my work, I whipped out my phone and typed up an email to Terrence, apologizing for reaching back out over a year later and asking if he was still interested in having me write forHere & There. I wrote boldly, and maybe a little desperately,If there are any opportunities available at all, I’d be interested.I reread it a few times, took a deep, steadying breath, and hit send.
A few hours later, as I was finishing up my shift, my phone pinged and to my surprise, he had replied.
Hi Emma, how nice to hear from you again! I still remember your work. Funny enough I’m visiting Austin this week, and your piece had actually come to mind—what with Texas high school football and all. Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow morning. Send me a place in your town. I’ll drive up and meet you. Write something about your town and send it to me tonight. But put a twist on it. You know we don’t like the basic travel pieces. Give it some feeling. Some love. Let’s see if your style and voice still work forHere & There. I’ll read it before we meet so we can discuss it tomorrow. You can send it to me here. I trust you know format, etc.
I reread the email a few times. I felt like Scared Emma again. I was shocked at his bold offers to not only meet in person, but to also request I write somethingby tonight. I was at a loss for words, so I went and got Katie to see what words she had about all of this.
“Isn’t this weird?” I demanded, leaning over her shoulder after she read his email.
“Yeah, but who cares if it’s a little weird,” she said, turning to me. “It might be weird, but it’s the best offer you got right now.”
“But I don’t want to meet him in person…” I whined. “Doesn’t writing freelance usually mean you can be distant with employers or something?”
“Em, I reiterate, it’s the best offer you got.” She then added, “And don’t most jobs involve meeting with your employer first? It’s really not that weird. He wouldn’t do this if he wasn’t a couple of hours away. It also weirdly makes sense for this travel guy to be spontaneous and adventurous. I think it’s kind of cool. You get to meet someone new in the industry, someone who created a magazine you adore. Honestly, it’s kind of awesome.”
“But, beyond the issue of the meeting, which is maybe cool. Isn’t it weird that I have one night to write this piece for him with the vaguest description ever? Write about your town with a twist… A twist on what? What is this, like an audition?”
“His magazine is known for its quality, sending a sample over seems normal. It’s not like he’s publishing it. He’s just checking your style, like a peer review. And neither of us know if the timeline is weird because neither of us have ever done this.”
I released a big sigh. “I’ll go through with this, but if he’s some creep or if he ghosts me, it’s on you.”
“Here, let’s email him and tell him to meet you here at Coffee & Commas. I’ll hang around. If he’s a creep, I’ll have your back. But what if he’s great? And you get a new industry friend.” Then with a voice all sugary, she said, “Or what if he’s hot and you fall in love?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What if he’s hot?”
“Hey, you’re single, it’s February, and a handsome traveling man wants to meet. And he loves your writing.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “What if your life becomes a Hallmark movie?”
I shrugged, too anxious to joke. What if he was hot and that made this even more nerve-wracking? I could not handle putting my careerandmy heart in someone’s hands at the same time.
“Goodness, calm down, Emma.” She put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “He adored your writing and still remembered it. That’s a good sign. He wouldn’t drive a couple of hours out of his way to meet with you if he wasn’t already assuming he was going to like what you write. These are all good signs. He’s setting you up to knock it out of the park.” She gave me a big sisterly grin. “What if he loves your writing, and you end up getting paid to travel and write about it? This could be wonderful. You do see that, right?”
My heart was racing. I could feel it pulsing beneath my shirt. “I’m just really nervous.” I wondered if I’d ever grow out of finding things other people found exciting, fun and wonderful, absolutely terrifying and dreadful.
“Good,” she said, wiping the counter randomly, as if remembering we were at work. I realized for a second that my shift had probably ended by now.
“Good?” I asked.
“Last time you spoke to him, you were pretty dismissive of a dream opportunity showing up in your inbox like magic. Now you have chased it back down. You finally care again. You are nervous and excited like you should be.” She walked back over to me.
I said nothing, just resting my head on her shoulder
“And it is magic,” she said. “You went from randomly having some magazine show up in your inbox to having him show up on your doorstep.”
“Well, the coffee shop doorstep. Tomorrow. If he actually shows up.”
