Page 97 of Her Goal
There are a few disasters, including a high heel that gets thrown and lands in the cake, prompting a food fight. Of course my family indulged in that kind of unhinged behavior.
My feed gives me wedding-cake-baking videos next.
I tell myself I’m craving chocolate, not Hudson.
I do my best to convince myself that he did not make me blush. I haven’t blushed since … Okay, fine. When he said I’m beautiful, I turned the color of a beet.
As we spend more time together—on and off the ice—I can’t escape the scent of evergreens. Could I be pining?
Maybe the problem is that I’m not listening to what my thoughts are telling me or the answer to my endless questions catches me off guard?
Sitting up in bed, I devise a plan. I’ll take baby steps toward communicating with Hudson. Opening my email app, I debate coming clean about my identity. If I confess that I’m his secret adversary, he’ll probably tell my parents and anyone who will listen that I’m psycho and that neither he nor anyone else should marry me, no less date me.
I table that plan for now, but hate and love are opposite sides of the same coin, so I could just inquire about this situationship.
That’s what I’ll do.
Taking a deep breath, I begin to write.
from:
to: Hudson Roboveitchek
date: October 5, 1:01?AM
subject: Situationships
Dear Soup Sandwich,
Have you ever missed a detour in the road, driven straight into a construction site, and then off the edge of a bridge that had no guardrails? I recall once suggesting that’s a route you take.
If I could take it back, I would.
I’m going to admit something here and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. The note in the yearbook and then the night I sent you the first email, I was using it as a diary of sorts. Kindof like therapy, if you must know. I never meant to presssend.
Despite the fear of guilt and regret, it did feel good to get all of that off my chest. Then, as you know, these messages continued. Anytime I’ve struggled, I turned to emailing you so I didn’t let my claws out and scratch anyone in real life.
Well, today something happened that threw me for a loop. My default setting would’ve been to open this app and let you have it. Tell you all the ways I hoped you suffered when really, I was intending to channel the frustrations I experienced in real life into a healthy outlet.
In fact, I’d been counting on the fact that this email address was long dead and gone. Then you replied.
It was surprising.
Trust me, you don’t want to find out who I am, but if you feel like writing back, I’d like to hear your thoughts on something. Here goes: if, say, you had a friend who was presented with a situation that could lead to a wonderful opportunity or be a total failure, what advice would you give?
Just asking.
And thanks for taking these emails on the chin.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Adversary
I worrythat I revealed too much, but it’s too late. I pressedsendand there are no take-backs.
I was intentionally being vague and didn’t exactly apologize, but this is progress. I think. I mean, I could’ve just not emailed him and destroyed the evidence. However, I once followed a series of posts from someone who was getting bullied online about digital forensics which was fascinating.
I digress.
