Page 2 of Authentically, Izzy
Now, the only reason I’m emailing you instead of talking to you face-to-face is because I feel you won’t hear me out. And you have no choice this way because your love for words and your natural curiosity will force you to read my message.
Since you do not seem to be as invested in your romantic future as you ought to be, I have decided, as your loving cousin, to help you pursue what we discussed last week at church. Before you gasp aloud, which I can practically hear all the way down Cherry Blossom Street, you need to understand that you have it all wrong. You think some Prince Charming is going to walk into your library and sweep you off your sneakered feet, but it doesn’t work that way in real life. Not nowadays. And certainly not for someone who spends more time with fictional humans than real ones. You are missing out, Izzy, and I can’t bear it. You are already thirty and not a date in sight.
I must rescue you from yourself.
I don’t say these things to hurt you, but to spur you into action instead of allowing you to keep hiding in your books. Heart-to-Heart is a wonderful online dating community recommended by several of the locals here, and I’ve taken the liberty of setting you up a profile. Currently your profile photo is Minnie Mouse, so unless you want the entire single dating world of Heart-to-Heart to think you’re a Disney Princess–loving high school student, you’d better hop right online and fix it. I feel certain there’s a book-loving man living relatively nearby waiting to speak bookish to you ’til death do you part. You just haven’t met yet. Here is your chance.
Time is running out, dear Izzy.
Your loving cousin,
Josephine
PS: And yes, you still have to love me because that’s what family does.
PPS: Heroines usually are swept off their feet while wearing something much more alluring than sneakers. I just thought you ought to know.
From: Izzy Edgewood
To: Josephine Martin
Date: February14
Subject: Betrayal
Josephine,
I have disowned you and will henceforth refer to you as Josie, both publicly and privately, until the day you die. And I promptly rewrote the horrid bio you set up for me. I amnota recluse. I takeSamwise for walks in the park downtown daily, and sometimes we go on hikes in the mountains. I get a cup of takeout tea from Beans & Things every morning before arriving at the library, plus I attend church on a regular basis. And I do have friends! My regular conversational partners at Beans & Things are excellent company and, while sharing charming and humorous stories as well as upcoming weather patterns, they keep me apprised of local news.
In addition to those facts of my habitual social interactions, I go to the movies with Penelope every time she’s home from school, which is once a month, and have lunch or a bike ride with Luke when he visits or I drive the hour to see him. So, as you can see, I am not, nor have I ever been, a recluse—except for my senior year of high school, but after such an awful perm, who can blame me? I love your mother, but her experiments with color and perms should never befall a high school girl. Ever. Especially one who was still trying to outgrow her pimple apocalypse.
And, how could you even write in that horrid bio that I have a dozen gray hairs or more? Who does that? I haven’t found any, let alone a dozen, nor do I while away my hours weeping over sappy movies. I weep over excellent writing and greeting card commercials. Do you know me at all?
I am perfectly satisfied with my quiet life, and though I won’t deny I’d love to meet someone special with whom I can enjoy long conversations and walks, I seriously doubt my “Prince Charming,” as you call him, will find his way onto an online dating community with a tacky caricature of Cupid as its logo. Once I figure out how to remove my profile from that embarrassing website, I plan to do so, but in the meantime, at least I’ve changed the profile picture and given a more accurateaccount of “the reclusive librarian” in your description. (I am inwardly cringing, I hope you know.)
And, Josie, leave my love life alone.
Sincerely,
Irritated Izzy
PS: Please thank your charming husband for sponsoring three tables at the annual library fundraiser. No one has ever purchased more than one, let alone three, and by our very first local podiatrist. He truly has a foothold in my heart (sneaker-fitted or not).
PPS: With my rather disastrous romantic history, it’s no wonder I wear sneakers. Faster getaway.
From: Josephine Martin
To: Izzy Edgewood
Date: February14
Subject: Reality check
Izzy,
If by “regular conversational partners” you mean the Farmer Four who get coffee every morning before going to their respective farms that they tend in theirretirement, then it’s beyond time to broaden your friend group. Avis Dalton turned a hundred at least fifty years ago and I don’t think the other three are too far behind him.
You need even more help than I realized! Do you even hear yourself?
