To: Erin Walsh
From: Nick Acevedo
Date: February 16
Subject: Sam
Hi, Erin,
Not sure if you're in range yet, but you should touch base with Sam at some point. He's having a rough week.
Nick
*After you check in with Sam, I want a detailed report about life in your bunk. And everything else. I fucking miss you.
To: Erin Walsh
From: Nick Acevedo
Date: February 20
Subject: Happy birthday, lovely
To my wife on her birthday –
I'd make cookie dough for you.
Tell me you're warm and coming home soon.
Nick
To: Nick Acevedo
From: Erin Walsh
Date: February 25
Subject: Finally, finally, finally home
Hey, Strange Boy,
You had me at cookie dough.
I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to you. There was an ice storm in Lapland, up in northern Finland, and the team was delayed in getting back to the station from the new coring site. I just saw your message about Sam, and nine thousand text messages from Riley, and a brief "everything's fine but I thought you should know" email from Matt, too.
Tell me if this is an accurate summary of the events before I yell at him for being a fool: Sam broke up with the girlfriend, got super wasted (like dumb fool wasted, not regular frat bro wasted), and ended up at your hospital.
- e
*My bunk and sleeping bag were unremarkable, though you might have made an appearance or two or ninety-four. How've I been in the shower?
**How's Gastro Girl?
To: Erin Walsh
From: Nick Acevedo
Date: February 25
Subject: SKIP!
Hello, lovely.
I'm forfeiting the asterisk/footnote debate and telling you right now that I've missed the fuck out of you. I want you, anywhere that I can get you, as soon as possible. Name the time and place, and I'll bring the extra-large penis. I'll need an entire day with your dewy petals, and now that I think of it, that's probably not enough. A week. Maybe more.
You know, I'd text you all my filthy thoughts from bed if you let me. Admit it, Skip, that would be fun.
Okay, now that we've covered that: yeah, that's the gist of things with Sam.
Nick
*I want that time and place, lovely.
**Gastro Girl isn't great. Things went sour with the resident.
To: Nick Acevedo
From: Erin Walsh
Date: February 25
Subject: demanding much?
Dude, I haven't been in my apartment in two months and my ass is still partially frozen. Give me a couple of days to sort out my life before you come at me with the grabby hands. Pretend (just for shits and giggles) that you want more than my tits.
Keep me posted if you hear anything on the Sam front, por favor.
*Stop it with the texting. I don't like texting.
To: Erin Walsh
From: Nick Acevedo
Date: February 26
Subject: Very demanding. Totally demanding.
Of course I want more than your tits! Are you fucking kidding me, Skip?
I want to hear some random historical facts, and a detailed accounting of all the things you've researched since the summer. And yeah, I want you naked and underneath me but it's not about sex. It's never been about sex, and I think you know that.
Por supuesto, mamí.
*Why don't you like texting? Isn't that your generation's thing?
To: Nick Acevedo
From: Erin Walsh
Date: February 26
Subject: Confession
Here's my confession for today: I know it's not about sex. I was being bratty when I said that, and I'm sorry.
This expedition has been exhausting and I'm behind on everything, and that's not some bullshit blow-off line. I'm overwhelmed right now, and that's not something I say to people. I avoid and I do unhealthy things. I wait until I'm so far past overwhelmed that I can't remember the origin of it all, and then I get even more unhealthy, and then I beat myself up for letting any of it happen. But I'm telling you and I need you to understand.
So…maybe you could hang tight for a bit? I know I'm asking a lot, and you probably don't want to wait for me much longer. I get it.
*It hasn't escaped my notice that we're now utilizing multiple asterisks on a regular basis. I'm not fond of this.
From: Nick Acevedo
To: Erin Walsh
Date: February 26
Subject: Confession
Erin…
I'll always wait for you. Don't you dare doubt that, Skip.
Churn that data. Write those papers. I'll be right here when you're ready for me.
*It didn't escape my notice that you trust me enough to tell me when you're overwhelmed. Keep doing that, okay?
They said the first year of marriage was the hardest. I believed it, even though I knew conventional wisdom was never meant for marriages with thousands of miles of distance on top like an extra serving of rainbow sprinkles. Those first-year marriage struggles were about household chores and money, where to spend the holidays and remembering to put the toilet seat down. Did it make us stronger to spend our first year hunting free moments for video chats and negotiating with the schedule gods for a few days together? Or was that just more proof that we were playing a fantastical game with no real consequences?
But it didn't feel like a game. That was the least confusing part. It felt like I'd left a chunk of myself with Nick, and while I could steal it away from him, I'd never get it—me—back in the state I gave it. Nick changed me, or maybe I changed while Nick was watching, but I was different now. I wanted things that I didn't understand, and cared for him in a way I didn't believe possible, and I wanted this to work. I didn't want to stop pretending, or whatever I was doing.