Hmm. The tone is rather somber (fittingly) and matter-of-fact. Still, it’s nice to hear from him.
I have absolutely no need for an intern, but I suppose I could scrounge up some tasks to help out his friend. I remember how desperate I was for any foothold in the business in college. If I’m your best inroad to fame and fortune in film I worry for you, of course, but still. I’m better than nothing.
I click reply.
From: mollymarks@netmail.co
To: sethrubes@mail.me
Date: Mon, June 22, 2020 at 11:20am
Re: Subject: Whale hello
Hey!
I’m okay! It’s kinda lonely out here for a spinster, but I’m enormously grateful that my loved ones are okay so far. And on the bright side, I never imagined I’d be blessed with such a varied and glamorous collection of face masks.
How’s your family? Isn’t your sister-in-law an emergency room doctor? I hope she’s okay. Can’t imagine the stress of that.
I’m happy to help out your friend’s sister. Things are quiet on the film front right now, as you might imagine, but I’m sure I can find some stuff for her to do for a few hours a week. Give her my email if she’s interested.
By the way, I saw the news about your engagement! Congratulations!
Cheers—
Molls
I click send before I can second-guess myself or labor over line edits, and draft the note to my reps.
By the time it’s sent, I hear the ding of a new message.
From: sethrubes@mail.me
To: mollymarks@netmail.co
Date: Mon, June 22, 2020 at 11:51am
Re: Re: Subject: Whale hello
I’m sure you look very glamorous in a face mask. I just look like a bank robber.
But in all seriousness, I’m so sorry you’re lonely. I’ve been having the opposite problem—feeling trapped with not enough space. I’m pretty sure quarantine is awful any way you slice it. I know it’s not a feeling unique to me in any way, but I hate this so much.
Thanks for asking about Clara. She is indeed an ER doctor. She’s been quarantining in a hotel for two months to keep the kids and Dave safe. Miserable situation—working like crazy, missing the boys, seeing horrible shit day in and day out. But at least she hasn’t gotten sick. She’s hoping that now that there’s more proper PPE it will be safe to go home soon.
As for the internship, thank you so much. Her name is Becky Anatolian and she is going to be so pumped to work for such a rock star. I’ll connect you by email.
And thanks for your kind words on the engagement. But actually … Sarah Louise and I just broke up. (Like, she moved out yesterday.) So I’m still processing …
Anyway, I’m so glad you’re doing okay, and thanks again!
Oh my God.
Shit.
I shouldn’t have said anything about the engagement. It’s not helpful to know this. I feel horrible that it makes me feel … joy?
Ugh, Molly.
But it does. It makes me feel joy.
The joy is not borne out of schadenfreude. No part of me wants Seth to be heartbroken.
It’s the part of me—the immediate, lizard-brain, pure id part of me—that wants Seth to be … available. That wants him to be held in reserve in case I decide that I want him for myself.
Or, perhaps the better word is “admit.” “Admit” that I want him for myself.
Not that it’s any more possible than it ever has been. I mentally repeat the reasons why I should not care about this foolish yen: we are separated by the better part of a continent in an unending pandemic in which it is not safe to take a commercial flight; he’s one day into a breakup; he’s wholesome and nice and I’m … the kind of person who feels joy when someone tells me they just broke off an engagement.
So I don’t reply.
I step away from the computer, fill up my water bottle, grab a mask, and go outside for a walk.
Usually, I hate walking in my neighborhood, as the hills make my calves burn, but I can’t sit in my house. I need to move around to force out the adrenaline. I feel like I just did three grams of cocaine. (I’ve never actually done cocaine because I’m convinced I would like it so much that I’d instantly get addicted, but my understanding is that three grams is, like, enough to kill an elephant.)
Mercifully, it’s a breezy June day in LA—high of seventy-four. The kind of perfect weather we were promised in Southern California before global warming began to turn it into an uninhabitable fireball. I speed-walk up and down the street, dodging groups of children and unleashed dogs, plotting out what to write back to Seth.
Obviously, I cannot in any way express my relief or communicate romantic interest. Aside from the fact that it would make me seem insensitive, selfish, and possibly batshit insane, I’m not trying to be a rebound. And anyway, that’s not what anyone wants to hear in the immediate aftermath of a failed relationship.
