Page 80 of Delayed Intention
I put the letter in an envelope, clearly printed her name and address. I added an unnecessary number of stamps because one doesn’t seem enough. Grabbing Ginger’s leash, we walk down to the post office to seal my fate, one way or the other. It isn’t open yet, as it isn’t quite dawn, but there is a drop box for posting same day letters.
I close my eyes, nervous but also with something like hope in my mind, and I drop the letter in the slot.
Measured Responses
Lily, Lincoln, End of April 2025
“Damn girl. I thought he might have it in him, but that letter is extra.”
Abbie fans herself while I roll my eyes. She’s staying with Nona and me for the week while she waits for her moving truck to arrive and unpack her place. She moved into a two-bedroom apartment in Lincoln this week, close to the hospital, where she already has a job lined up. She’s still friends with Dana, but things have cooled between them. Abbie says Dana low-key freaked out when she decided to move to Nebraska. Abbie tried to tell her it wasn’t about their “situationship,” but apparently, Dana wasn’t convinced. I think she’ll come around once she realizes Abbie has her own life. I hope so because I think they’re wonderful together.
“I know. It’s… a lot.” I look at the letter on my bed where Abbs has dropped it. “Do you think he really wrote it? Could he have used some AI program or something?”
“Lily,” Abbie narrows her eyes at me. “I was around y’all one day and that was more than enough time to see he has it bad for you. He definitely wrote it… Honestly, sometimes I just want to shake you.”
“Thanks?”
“In a loving, what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you way.”
“Right.”
“And you haven’t responded yet?”
My palms start to itch, so I sit on them.
“Well, I sent him a text. I didn’t want to be rude, so I sent a text saying, I got your letter. I’m thinking.”
“Uh huh.” She folds her arms. “Remind me how long you’ve been thinking?”
“Almost two weeks.”
“That poor man. I can’t believe you kept this from me for almost two weeks?!?” She chucks one of my throw pillows in my general direction. “Did you show it to Roselyn?”
“I did and I talked to Monica. And before you start in on me too, they both already told me I need to give some kind of answer soon, even if the answer is, I’m not sure.”
“Lily. Soon was over a week ago.”
“I know, I know.” I rub my palms on my sweats, and try to ignore the growing itchiness. “It’s just, how can I trust him after he spoke about me with Felicia that way? I don’t think he knows how he feels. How can this—” I point to the letter in question, “be from the same guy that insisted he doesn’t have the capability to love?”
“Lily! He knows exactly how he feels. His letter says it all. You need to stop obsessing and do something. Even if it’s just moving in the direction of staying friends.”
“Well. I could send him a post card when we go to North Platte tomorrow?” Abbie and I are going out to the Buffalo Bill house tomorrow. As a kid, I was obsessed with the Annie Oakley exhibit there, and she wanted to see for herself what captivated the child version of me.
“A post card? Are you high?” She looks like she’s seriously reconsidering shaking me. “I think you should call him.”
“I… don’t know if I’m ready for that. Not yet.” I don’t know how to explain myself in a way that someone as fearless as Abbie will understand.
“Just think about it from his perspective. You are kind of stringing him along, you know?”
“That’s not my intention. I just need to protect myself.” I sigh. “Okay, I‘ll admit I don’t know what I’m doing. But I can’t be like you. You know?”
“I know.” She smiles sympathetically, “Lily, let’s just text him. Let him know you’re still ruminating. That you’re afraid of being hurt. That’s all I’m saying. Otherwise, he will probably assume the worst.”
I sigh. She’s not going to let this go. And she may have a point. The truth is, I’ve been as anxiety-ridden about not contacting him as I’ve been about contacting him, and now I’m stuck. I suppose I could just let him know that I’m still considering what to do. With Abbie here, I can face this.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
I pull out my phone while Abbie looks over my shoulder.
