(no subject)

Dear Evan:

I was in your apartment this evening, ostensibly to help Ingrid out with her paper and to start writing mine, for a different subject. I did the former. I was one sentence into the latter when the phone rang.

It was my girlfriend. I was of course delighted, and I know how plainly that shows on my face. After some back and forth about me needing to call her because her minutes were nearly out, I went into the kitchen to chat because it was quieter there.

And oh, she sounded so happy! And she said that she was happy and that eased my worry for her. And then she asked me if I was happy, and I said "...yeah, I'm okay." And she told me to make sure I was and to tell the boys (you, Evan, and James) to keep an eye on me and treat me right.

My voice was starting to shake at this point, from missing her and because, as many of you know, I feel lonely and lost sometimes and had actually spent much of my day in an unhappy mood. I love Sarah, but her timing could have been better. As she told me what she'd be doing for the next few months and what her homestay was like, I was sniffling. I had myself pretty well under control, because I didn't want to worry her when she's already got so much to deal with. She told me that I was doing well and to remember that I was strong, and then she told me she loved me and had to go.

We said goodbye.

Ten seconds later I was trying desperately to stop crying so that you boys wouldn't see. But the kitchen was next to the living room with no divider and so you - Evan - you heard me. I was trying so hard to be okay. But I can only pretend so long before it becomes too much.

And when you put your arms around me and held me close it was too much and I sobbed into your chest. And you held me. And within a few seconds James was there too, James who played across from me in Curse of the Werewolf, so that on either side there was strength and comfort, and so I let the tears come.

You held me until I was breathing calmly, and then reached out for me again when I found out that I wasn't quite done. And James, when you found out that it was my girlfriend that I was talking to, you told me how strong I was, and that you couldn't manage leaving home and living alone in a strange country. And told me that you admired me for doing it, and that you thought I was doing it with flair.

I needed to hear that.

And then, "Hey, you want to go do something?" said you, and I nodded because I couldn't face my work anymore, and "You like gelato? or cake?" you asked and I nodded again, and you said, "Then let's take a walk."

So, with me still fighting tears, we walked out into the night, just Evan and me, and got my jacket. And you let me talk, let me spill words out into the darkness, let out my pain the only way I will ever know how to. And my tears eased.

We walked all the way to Lygon Street, and you bought me chocolate cake, and I told you about my pony, and about Melissa, and about how she probably saved my life way back when. And you told me about Jackson, who you love more than anything, and about being (in your words) "a little bit bipolar but thank god not as bad as my crazy aunt").

And then you took me home, settled me on the couch, made me tea and showed me an episode of "Jekyll", which made me laugh and smile and be utterly delighted.

You saw my weakness, saw my lowest point and my pain, and you opened your arms and held me close.

Evan. James. Fuck. "Thank you" seems like such a weak thing to say here.

But thank you. Thank you from the depths of my soul and with all my heart. What I needed most, comfort, you gave so freely.

(no subject)

If for some reason you have grievously wronged me in the past and feel the need to make it up to me, I would totally forgive everything if you got me the option on the far right for my birthday. Or even the one in the middle. For, you know, less grievous wrongs.