Page 13 of Book and Ladder
I start typing:
Dear Burning Through the Pages,
Dear? What is this, the 1900s? I delete that line and start over.
Hey!
Hey?Hey? Seriously, Daisy? Delete.
I wish I knew his name. I’ll just skip addressing him and hop right into my message.
I listen to your show every week. It’s my favorite. Tonight I stayed up past my usual bedtime to listen to your episode onA Man Called Ove. Your discussion on loneliness was thoughtful and insightful. I’m not usually lonely, though I do live alone.
I delete that last sentence and keep typing. He doesn’t need to know if I’m ever lonely. I’m just complimenting him on his excellent podcast.
I listen to your show every week. It’smy favorite. Tonight I stayed up past my usual bedtime to listen to your episode onA Man Called Ove. Your discussion on loneliness was thoughtful and insightful. I just wanted to let you know you’re appreciated. Keep up the good work.
- M&M
I sign my note M&M for Moss and Maple. If he’s anonymous, I will be too. Not that he’s even going to be the one to open my email. He probably has a production team or assistant who answers all listener messages.
Before I can second guess myself, I hit send. And then I panic.
“Keep up the good work?” I groan. “What am I, his fourth grade teacher?”
“Stop it, Daisy,” I tell myself. “You sent a nice note to a man who talked about loneliness with a familiarity that says he’s not only drawing from Backman’s story, but his own life experience.”
“Exactly,” I answer myself.
Why does his response matter so much to me? Maybe because of our shared love of books. No. It’s more than that. He talks about books the way I wish someone would talk about me—like I matter.
I’m about to shut down my email when I see a notification pop up in my inbox.
My heart rate picks up just the slightest when I see it’s from Burning Through the Pages. I click the email and read:
Dear M&M,
Thank you for loyally listening to my show. You don’t know what it means to have someone say it’s their favorite. Since you listened past your bedtime, you probably won’t get this until morning. I just wanted to say thank you and to let you know you matter.
What do you think? Should I tackle grief next? Or should I go into my planned content, which is a critique ofPride & Prejudice?
- BTTP (Burning Through the Pages)
Seeing Patrick’s car dominating the front of my duplex woke me up in a not-so-fun way. This email has the same effect, but not because I’m too agitated to sleep. I’m wide awake, buzzing over getting a response from the host ofBurning Through the Pages. Despite my instinct not to bother him with more fan mail, I sit up, composing a response. He did ask me questions. I’m taking that as a green light.
Dear BTTP,
Criticizing P&P? Are you out of your mind?
You do know that’s a classic, right? I’m not saying all classics are automatically amazing. We both know that’s far from true. But P&P? Darcy? You don’t mess with perfection.
- M&M
I hover my cursor over the SEND button, close my eyes, and click the mouse. The email whooshes out of sight and I question my life. Was that too argumentative? Arrogant? Overstepping the boundaries? I just wanted to tell him thanks for the podcast. Now I’m defending Jane Austen and Darcy. Not that Darcy needs a defense attorney.
I stare at the screen, waiting for the next email response to come through. A minute passes and I start to wonder if I went too far. Two minutes and I’m lifting the computer off my lap and setting it on my bed so I can pace. Three minutes and I’m ready to compose an apology. Not retracting my thoughts onPride & Prejudice, but apologizing for coming across so boldly to a total stranger. Only, he doesn’t feel like a stranger. I curl up to his discourses on books once a week. On harder weeks, I revisit favorite episodes. My computer pings with a notification. I click the email.
Dear M&M,
