Page 42 of Wish You Were Her
“And he crafted the most amazing things for the Olympians,” Jonah added. “Even though they cast him out. He made beautiful items they couldn’t go without. Shoes with wings. I always liked that. The idea that, even though the people around you want to exclude you for what you are, you can be better. You can rise above. You can do things they can’t do for themselves.”
Allegra suddenly felt short of breath. “I think we should go back inside.”
A wave of guilt followed her as they both silently went back into the bar, Jonah radiating disappointment at the slight rejection. But she needed the banality of the group. The bland normality of casual conversation and drinking games.
Everything she had just seen in Jonah was far too overwhelming. It raised questions she did not want to answer. It offered an alternative to a comfortable assumption and she didn’t want to look directly at it any longer.
Chapter Thirteen
Jonah opened Brooks Books the following day and took advantage of his solitude to check the email.
Subject: Not Myself
Dear Friend and hopefully not so sad bookseller,
I totally know what you mean! I often find myself looking down, or back, at my own behavior and wonder why I sometimes have this massive break of communication between what my brain wants to express and what actually ends up coming out. I wish people could hear and see intentions, as well as actions.
I’m sure you are lovely. I know you are, because of these emails. You’re being too hard on yourself.
I’m also sure the festival will be fine. I would like to meet you there. Maybe near the end of the run? That way, it won’t ruin the whole experience for you if you think I’m not worth all of these emails we’ve been sending. I’ve been loving your pictures of the town; I can’t wait to see it.
Feel better soon.
Friend
Jonah felt a tightness in his chest as he read the objectively kind email. He hurriedly googled the address, hoping it might lead to a social media account or anything he could use to identify this joyous person who brought him relief during a troublesome summer. Nothing turned up so he began to draft another response.
RE: Who Are You?
Dear Friend,
Your email pulled me out of a bit of a shame spiral. Even though you don’t know who I am, and I don’t know you, thank you for making me feel a bit human again. I’ve made so many stupid errors lately, I’ve not been my best self, and this was something I really needed.
Who are you? Are you an eighty-five-year-old lady who emailed the shop one day? Are you my age? Are you as great as you seem over email? As kind? I know we’re both really enjoying this anonymity thing but I’d love to put a name to my friend. Who, right now, feels like the only friend I have left.
God, that sounds pathetic. I’m not actually that sad. Please let’s meet. The festival is so soon, I could never be disappointed in you. There’s always a party to celebrate the program launch. It’s next Friday. Pete’s Cafe in Lake Pristine is very pretty. We could grab a drink there at seven and then head to the launch?
No pressure. Seriously. And if I’m too intense, that’s fine. Ignore me. But don’t stop writing. Your emails are the one thing I have to look forward to these days.
Wish you were here.
Bookseller
He sent it before he could start to doubt himself and as it swept from the outbox into the sent folder, Simon flew through the door.
“I’m doing the boring computer stuff this morning,” Jonah told him quickly. “Can you do the click-and-collects?”
“Ah, yes, my favorite,” Simon said loftily. “Trying to find that one copy ofMrs. Dallowaythat the online system is adamant we have, yet I can’t find anywhere.”
Jonah ignored him, printing off the orders and handing them unceremoniously to Simon.
