Revenge of the Nerd Ch. 31byrpsuch©
I was tired and jet lagged and just dumped my stuff and went to sleep when we arrived at our home outside London.
In the morning, I fired off an email to let Jeff know I had arrived safely. He apparently thought it required no response, because he didn't reply.
We visited with friends, made plans to attend parties and relaxed around the pool for the first few days. I wasn't quite so relaxed.
I sent off a few chatty emails to let Jeff know what I was doing, but he didn't reply to any of them.
It was one thing to have the opportunity to find myself in his absence; quite another to have to go cold turkey.
I wasn't becoming concerned, I was becoming unhappy.
Why didn't he contact me, if only to say hello? Had being with me constantly been so difficult that he needed a vacation? Had he realized I needed time to figure some things out and decided to give me the necessary space?
Quite unexpectedly, I received a letter on our fifth day there. There was no return address and my name and address were hand-written. I opened it to find a hand-written letter, readable, but with decidedly inferior penmanship.
My Dearest Miss Fine,
You have only just departed, and yet I find myself overtaken by melancholy at your absence. You well know of my great esteem for you and it is my fondest wish that my discomfort at your absence cause you no distress. The delectation of your companionship these many months has surfeited my current state of disquietude.
It is my fondest wish that your current travels provide all the rewards you desire for such a significant enterprise.
I anxiously, yet patiently, await your return, when I can again bask in the warmth of your presence as a rose resumes its growth when revived from the chill of the night by the morning sun, and be nourished by the sound of your sweet voice.
Until then, I am ever,
Your humble servant,
W. J. Goldberg
What? No email and then this, what is it?
I read it again.
It clicked. This must be like those letters Thomas Jefferson wrote to that French chick. Or maybe Benjamin Franklin. I wondered if there was a direct quote in here. I whipped open my dictionary to be sure I understood everything he was saying.
This was so much more thoughtful and personal than an email or IM. This was his way of saying we weren't getting divorced when I got back.
The time and effort he put into creating this letter was far more valuable to me than any gift he could have purchased.
And the poetry of it. He might be a nerd in the 21st Century, but in the 18th, the ladies would have been lining up for a piece of him.
"Bask in the warmth of your presence as a rose resumes its growth when revived from the chill of the night by the morning sun, and be nourished by the sound of your sweet voice."
It made me weak in the knees. If I found out he had stolen that phrase from somebody else, I would make him weak in the knees with a baseball bat. If it was his, I would do anything he asked.
My God, what would have happened if my parents had intercepted this letter?
Probably nothing. They would have thought I had a deranged stalker.
I would have to keep this letter to show to them when I told them my intentions with Jeff, if he shared them.
I would have to keep this letter to read to myself when I grew old, to relive the love of my life.
I lacked the resources to respond to this letter in the manner it deserved. Well, I lacked the resources to write him back in the appropriate style and vernacular. But I would find a way to personally respond to the writer in a manner he deserved.
For now, I contented myself with a brief email. "Thank you."
We took a weekend trip near Paris to visit friends and attend a party. I was astonished that my parents didn't ask about the smile on my face and the joy with which I approached everything we did and everyone we saw.
I hadn't taken his InTime shirt to France with me so, unfortunately, I wouldn't get to inhale his aroma until I returned to England.
It didn't matter. However much time it would be that I could not touch him or smell him or taste him, he would be there when I returned home.
When I got back to England, there was another letter waiting for me.
My Dearest Miss Fine,
The days pass in the sweltering heat of the summer, but the halls of my heart grow dank and chilly from the poverty of your presence. I have no fear that is a fatal condition, for I have basked sufficiently in the kindness of your spirit and the generosity of your heart that I will never lack for sustenance however lengthy our separation. Whatever my circumstances, I will eternally be envied by other men for the affluence I have attained from your affection.
I know the mails are an uncertain proposition at best these days; I have no expectation of receiving a response to my missives. Yet I feel, somehow, an electricity in the air that tells me they have reached you and you have not found them displeasing.
I shall for ever claim an esteem which continues to be very precious to me, and hope to be, in the future, indulged with the mutual expression of it.
As I sit here writing this, I am a canvass in grey and white, awaiting the return of your palette to make me a masterpiece ablaze with color, vibrant, a creation that cannot be experienced without transforming the viewer.
Your humble servant,
W. J. Goldberg
I felt chills and it wasn't the flu.
Electricity in the air: email?
Had he already received my reply or had he assumed from my earlier emails that it would come? It didn't matter.
Again I replied with a two word email. "Oh, my."
This time I was sure he had taken something from the Jefferson letter. He had very carefully written, "for ever" as two separate words, lifting the pen from the paper to create the spacing.
As profound as the effect these letters were having on me, I knew they would be meaningless to my father. When he asked me about them, I simply replied, "A gift from a friend."
Assuming we went there, and I was assuming it by now even if I was having trouble believing it, when it became necessary to tell my parents I wanted to spend my life with Jeff, I thought the best time would be after we had already eloped and I was pregnant, very pregnant.
There were some parties scheduled for the upcoming weekends and I thought I would take a shot at discussing it with Jeff through email.
"Italy this wknd. Riviera nxt. Just want to stay home. Any ideas humble servant?"
To this one, Jeff replied with an IM.
"I was working on another letter, but I'm not sure I can top, 'Oh, my,' so I think I'll retire. Ur going 2 the parties, enjoy them. If ur going 2 b thr anyway, y not have the best time u can? BTW, these abbrev are making me dizzy. I may switch back 2 English from here on in. Have I mentioned at any point that I miss you?"
He had a new handle, JekyllnHyde. I had been right: he found it endearing and not offensive.
"Miss u 2. Did u plagiarize anything in those letters?"
He sent: "I confess, even though there is little chance you would ever find it. Jefferson actually wrote, 'I shall for ever claim an esteem which continues to be very precious to me, and hope to be, at times, indulged with the mutual expression of it.' Everything else was mine. Did you like it?"