Page 72 of For Eva

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? It absolutelyisa date.” I laughed, finally allowing a grin to spread across my face.

I swore I could almost hear his smile through the phone before he spoke. “Believe me when I say I cannot wait.”

THIRTY-TWO

May 1990

May 27, 1990

Denise,

I miss you. I love you. I ADORE you. And I may be buttering you up because you’re going to kill me for not telling you this sooner. But last time I called, I ran up a ridiculously high long-distance phone bill, and I’m but a poor junior marketing associate. Plus, I kinda wanted to wait to see how things played out. So here’s the deal: I met someone. A couple weeks ago. And I know you hate me right now, but I promise I’ll tell you everything!

His name is Aaron. He’s 29 and an attorney with a big law firm in the city. He has short hair, no tattoos, and wears polo shirts. I’ll let you go ahead and freak out now.

(Pause)

OK, hopefully, you’re done. I know he doesn’t sound anything like my type, but I’m into him, Denise. I really am. I rear-ended him on Clark St., and he was so nice about it, and he called me afterward and asked me out. And for some reason—I don’t know if it was his eyes or his smile or what—I saidyes. And we’ve pretty much been hanging out every night since, even though he works a ton. Sometimes we meet for a late dinner out, or he’ll come over and I’ll order takeout or cook. Me cooking—what the hell?! But it all feels so…normal. So…how life is supposed to be…right?

It sounds crazy, like we’re complete opposites, but something about it works. I think. Who knows, it’s only been a few weeks, maybe it’ll fizzle out. Maybe by the time you get this and call to yell at me for not telling you sooner, I’ll be dating some long-suffering musician and hanging out at underground clubs every night, pining away for him while he pines away for his career.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess.

All right, I’m signing off, but I’ll talk to you soon. Use that big, fat finance salary to call me! :)

Love you!

Eva

THIRTY-THREE

June 1990

June 6, 1990

Eric,

So sorry it’s been a while since we’ve talked/I’ve written! Things have been so busy at work I’ve barely had time to breathe. But I’ve been thinking about you and wondering how the solo project is going. You’re probably recording as I’m writing this. Didn’t you say the album was scheduled for a September release?

I know you mentioned on the phone last month that you were looking at a place to rent in Studio City. Just close enough to Hollywood without actually being in Hollywood—smart thinking. :) Have you moved out of Keith’s yet? Or are you still dodging water bullets from his son?

Let me know how you’re doing!

Eva

THIRTY-FOUR

Eva

June 1990

“I’m just saying, Eva,” Aaron explained as he stepped into my apartment, shutting the door behind him. “How hard is it to cook a fucking steak medium rare?”

I sighed and tossed my purse onto the dining table. “I know, babe, but it wasn’t the waiter’s fault.”

Aaron slipped off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, aiming the remote at the television. “Do you want me to go back and apologize?” he asked as the TV sprang to life. “I still left him a decent tip.”

“I just think that—” I yelped as he grabbed my waist and pulled me onto his lap.

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