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From: [email protected]
Subject: Bored again
Claire,
Another Google suggestion for journal topics is the high and low of your day.
High: I woke up with you curled up against my side. Don’t get weird about it, I’m not. I’ve just always liked sharing my bed with someone else. Women, preferably, but I won’t lie and say Nathan, Noah, and I never cuddled for body heat when camping in the winter. Anyway, it was nice, and I’d like to make a motion we keep that up even when I get my voice back.
Yes, I realize I’ll need to bring that up IRL at some point, because you’ll never read this.
Low: You left for work. Again, don’t get weird. I’m just bored and I hate being here alone. Gertrude is lovely company but she sleeps too much.
Oh, you want to hear what I’ve done today? K.
After you left I gave myself a sponge bath (if that mental image doesn’t turn you on, I don’t know what will) and stole some of your dry shampoo. THAT STUFF IS FUCKING AWESOME. Do they make it for guys? I may never wash my hair again.
You’re always welcome to do it for me, though.
Then I “worked out.” I don’t think I’m supposed to, but I did push-ups and sit-ups today in addition to weights. It didn’t bother my leg in that behemoth cast so it’s probably fine, right? By the time this is over I’ll look like an ostrich. Huge on the top with tiny little toothpick legs completely devoid of muscle tone. But hairy. (Strike the sponge bath comment—that mental image should be what turns you on.)
K, so then I started some creepy show on Netflix and freaked myself out and turned it off. Then I sat on the porch for a while to get some vitamin D. I saw a Subaru coming down the street and for a second I thought maybe you got off early, but it wasn’t you.
Obviously.
But then I was thinking about what I’d tell you if you were home, and here we are.
Some of my buddies from the station wanted to stop by this afternoon, but I said (er, texted) no. I feel weird not being able to talk to them. Come to think of it, I wasn’t comfortable when Reagan was here, either. But with you and Noah I couldn’t care less. Mia, too, probably. And maybe Chris.
Does that mean you’re my people? Nathan was the first friend I ever had like that. He and I were so similar it was almost scary, and I knew within five minutes of talking to him he was different than the guys I grew up with (assholes, mostly). I got lucky that his brother was cool, too, and then got lucky again that a friendship with Noah meant I got to know you and Mia, too.
Whoa. OK, well, I didn’t mean to get all sappy there. I think that’s my cue to sign off.
Hope you have a good day today and we can make out when you get home. I really like kissing you.
Graham
13
Today was June 18.
Her dad’s birthday.
Other than the recurring nightmare Claire often had about his death, she’d successfully avoided thinking about it the three days leading up to today. She worked three twelves in a row, and even though the heavy make-out session with Graham in bed that first night was incredible, she’d been too exhausted the next two nights for a repeat.
Today was her first day off, which would have been nice...
...if it weren’t June 18.
Luckily, she had plans to take Graham to the otolaryngologist later, and as long as speaking was possible, he might be given the green light to use his voice again.
But first, she’d call her mom. They spoke every other week or so, but always talked on her dad’s birthday. Claire figured her mom could use a friend on days like these, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t benefit from it, as well.
Graham was in his room lifting weights and she used the phone call as an excuse to get out of the house. She grabbed her phone, a doggy bag, and Gertrude’s leash, and the tiny dog came running.
“Is that a tail wag I see?”
