Page 43 of Delayed Intention
“You okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” My honest answer.
We turn and look at the historic hotel, which may or may not be haunted.
“Shall we?” He smiles at me, and I exhale slowly.
“Sure.” Because what else can I say?
With that, we head in to find the events manager, take our tour, and sit down for lunch. Lunch is delicious but as it goes on, the place seems creepier and creepier. We headed back to drop me off at my place and decided on the ranch after all. After I step inside, I remember the letter I wrote and groan, leaning back against the door of my hotel room.
A Decision?
Josh, Estes Park, February 2025
The note from Lily was burning a hole in my coat pocket the entire way back to my place. As soon as I walked in, Ginger left from the sofa and moved to the floor. I could see how much snow she had tracked through the back door and into the kitchen. It was my fault, since she had been here on her own for so long. With some old towels from the closet, I worked to dry up the kitchen floor before throwing a blanket on the sofa to protect it from snowy paws. Grabbing a beer out of the fridge, I finally opened the envelope and started to read as Ginger snuggled next to me.
Josh,
It’s the middle of the night, and I can’t sleep.
This visit, even though it’s been less than a day, has been unsettling. The truth is I’m having all these feelings. Maybe I have a hero complex? You know, since you rescued me from having to drive through mountains? Was that just on the last day? It feels like it happened a week ago.
I’m terrified, but I need to be honest with you. I’ve decided, just now, that I’m going to write this as if I am never going to give it to you. And knowing me, maybe I won’t.
Here’s the thing—I think you know you were my safe space when we were kids, and you’ve started to become one again. (Despite the 3rd night of Hanukah.)
It’s not just your patience with me and taking the time to drive out to Lyons. Even before that, my perception of you has been evolving, and I think it was because of our letters. There is a history between us, and, for me, complex feelings.
You are attractive and someone I am drawn to… How do I navigate this without falling off a cliff? This feels like the opposite of casual, and what frightens me more than anything is that I don’t feel in control. Like, I don’t have a handle on myself.
What about you? Have you had any new (or old) feelings for me? Have you been thinking of me the way I’m thinking of you? You said I am attractive to you? Is that like I’m not unpleasant to look at? Or are you pulled toward me the way I am toward you?
Something about writing letters and sharing our real thoughts. I guess I’m not saying what I’m thinking, though. I am kind of talking in platitudes without being direct. If you don’t want to know where my mind has been going… maybe stop reading now.
Still here? Okay. You were warned.
First of all, I’m happy we’re friends again, so I hope the rest of this letter does not screw that up.
The truth is, I feel like I’m crushing on you all over again. I feel nervous around you. When my hand touched yours, I didn’t want to pull away. Thatneverhappens to me. I mean—you know this about me. Physical touch is not my love language. Despite that, when I look at you sometimes, I want to throw my arms around you, kiss you, and I think… what the hell is happening to me?
So… anyway, that’s how I’ve been feeling and what I’ve been thinking about.
Yours, apparently,
Lily
I drop the letter on my sofa and head into the kitchen to walk over to get myself something stronger than my beer to drink.Now what?I wanted our friendship to get back on track, but this was everything I needed to avoid. Isn’t it?
Fuck.
No shit I want her, in a way thatcannothappen. Since the day I opened her social media, seeing her as she is now, my inner caveman is feral for her. But the rest? A relationship willneverbe my thing. What I need is to not hurt her again. It is critical that we get physical distance between us, soon. If we hook up, it will only cause her pain. I’m not capable of anything else.
It’s like she hasn’t listened to anything I’ve said. I pour myself a whiskey and skip the ice.
I can see there’s no easy way out of this situation. Throwing back the rest of my drink, I savor the burn of it as I sit down and write a note back.
Dear Lily,
