When he found me on the hood of Maddie’s car, Stuart just said, “Hey-y-y,” and started laughing, and I started laughing. The echolocation was overwhelming.
“Maddie wanted me to make sure you were okay,” he finally said.
“Yes. I’m okay,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said.
Before he finished asking, I blurted, “Because I just dropped, like, an emotional grenade on you. I just took out the clip and threw it and let it explode.”
I realized I wasn’t looking him in the eyes, just staring a hole straight through his broad gray chest.
“Yeah, you could have at least yelled, cover! Or something.” He made exploding sounds with his mouth. I giggled, which I try never to do except within the comfort of my own home, which is saying something about Stuart and how he made me feel.
“Yeah,” I said. “I should have.”
Then we were quiet. And the full weight of what I had done started to sink in, like for instance, the fact that I probably stared at him a lot, not just when we were in high school together, but a lot over this evening, without saying much more than telling him (a) that I was obsessed with him and (b) that we would be in the same city next year.
I said, “Sorry if that was creepy.”
Stuart said, “No! No, don’t worry about it,” and by then, thankfully, we could hear Dale and Maddie and Stacia coming down the driveway after us, so we stopped having to talk.
I purposefully sat in the front, trying to shrug the whole thing off. Trying to forget what I said, believe it or not. I remember thinking, damn, I might just erase the whole night from your memory, Future Sam.
When we got to my house, I called, “This is me!”
As I shut the door, Stuart called from the backseat open window. “Sammie!”
And of course I answered, “What?”
“Come here!” he said.
I turned around, thinking I had forgotten something, probably a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich in a Baggie that fell out from my bag or something.
Then he took my arm—that’s right, you read correctly—he took my arm, and turned it over, as if he were administering a shot. He brought a pen out of his pocket, uncapped it with his teeth, and wrote his email. Each curve of each letter of his name was like, I don’t know, having sex. I have never had sex, but have you ever had someone write on you? Have you ever had a writer write on you? He might as well have been doing it with his fingertip.
“I’m not a great texter,” he said.
It’s been a day since the party and I still have the faded letters of Stuart’s email address written on my arm in marker. I have his email because he gave it to me, and now he has mine because I emailed him.
Holy. Saint. James. Iago. Joan. Of. Fucking. Arc.
I still can’t believe it.
Wait. He’s online now. HE EMAILED ME.
Sammie,
Hey, glad you survived. Like I said last night, don’t worry about it. We were both in weird party mode. It was actually kind of refreshing. I mean, we don’t know each other very well but I will say I always felt this strange connection to you when I was at Hanover. Not a crush per se (ha-ha), because to be honest, I was always too busy acting and writing and doing homework to have much of a crush on anyone. But I remember seeing you in the cafeteria, and when Ms. Cigler read your essay aloud, I really was impressed. Maybe I should have chased after you tonight but it seemed like you wanted to get out of there. I guess I’m just not used to being so upfront with anyone. But I was glad when Maddie asked me to go find you. And I’m glad you told me that.
-Stu
Okay—I wrote back asking if he had a girlfriend. Not going to keep refreshing and checking for a reply. I have plenty of other things to do. I wait for no man. OH WAIT LOOK:
Ha-ha! No, I don’t have a girlfriend. If we’re going to keep playing the frankness game, I said “not really” to Ross because he always used to give me shit for not having a girlfriend. I had one before, in New York, but things ended last year.
Jesus, you really do just dig into it, don’t you? Ha-ha. Um. Why did I give you my email? Because I think you’re cute and smart.
-Stu
PS That book you were pretending to read? It was Anagrams by Lorrie Moore and when you get the chance (maybe when your schedule clears up) you should read it. It’s one of my favorites.
I have just been going back to my email inbox in between doing homework, expecting these emails to disappear, and they never do.
Especially this part: Because I think you’re cute and smart.
Because I think you’re cute and smart.
Because I think you’re cute and smart.
^^^ He said that. Stuart Shah said that!