deep breath.
Now
.
I turned around with one last look at the words, so boldly scrawled there for all the world to see, yet written solely for me. My steps, so unsure and unfocused as I had wandered this way, were now deliberate as I retraced them to make my way back to the office.
Yes, I would have to go back. For now. But there was a swell of hope in my chest as I walked, a feeling of promise.
Things were going to be different now. Things were going to change, and I was going to be the author of that change. I had a story to write, a life to live—and a passion to pursue.
I walked back with a small smile playing on my lips, the seeds of an idea beginning to germinate.
To: Neil Epstein
From: Zoë Trent
Subject: We meet at last!
Dear Neil—
It’s so nice to finally meet you.
Sort of.
I’d have preferred an in-person meeting, but this is definitely a step up from not being able to communicate at all. I’d ask you where you are, but I’m not sure that’s allowed. Ray seems to be hazy on the details of your exact location, so I’m guessing that not even he knows. So I’ll just say that I hope you’re doing well and that the time you’re spending over there, wherever “there” may be, is going quickly for you. The last two months here seem to have flown by.
So. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Zoë Trent, a fact that I’m sure you already knew, if Ray really did run all of this by you. I must admit, I was beginning to wonder.
I’m a single, non-smoking, non-partying twenty-four-year-old bookkeeper who generally lives a very boring life and tends to keep to herself, so you needn’t worry that you’ll come home to a destroyed house that reeks of an ashtray and stale beer.
I want to thank you for being so generous in trusting me with your home. The situation may not be the most ideal, since we don’t know each other; but I have to tell you that your home has been a sanctuary to me over the past two months.
Thank you for that.
Well, I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much to read, so I’m going to sign off and hope that I hear back from you soon.
Take care and stay safe!
Zoë
To: Zoë Trent
From: Neil Epstein
Subject: RE: We meet at last!
Zoë:
I’m glad to “meet” you, too. And you’re welcome—but I think I should be the one thanking you. I’m glad to know that my house is in capable hands (Ray tells me he would trust you with his children—which might mean a little more if he actually had any, but still). As I said in my letter, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with any questions about the house.
Yes, the last two months have gone by quickly; and I’m hoping the next few do, as well.
Neil
I read the e-mail with a mix of curiosity and disappointment. There wasn’t any hint of personality; and to me, the exchange felt unsatisfying.
I took a sip of coffee and leaned back in my chair, still staring at the screen. I reread the last two lines and wondered if he was indirectly trying to tell me that he didn’t really want me to contact him unless it was absolutely necessary. He’d said basically the same thing in the letter he’d mailed.
I chewed my upper lip and swiveled back and forth, back and forth.
Was he really so detached?
I had imagined him to be somewhat charming, yet nothing in either the letter or the e-mail gave any hint of that. In fact, he seemed a bit flat.
If someone was staying in my house, and I’d finally gotten in contact with them, I’d want to know everything. But that was just me. The only explanation I could come up with for my need for information, for something other than cool anonymity, was the fact that I was here, in his home, among his things. Who could blame me for obsessing? It was a little like having an incomplete description of someone, and I hated to leave things incomplete.
I picked up my phone and dialed Ray. There were three rings, and then his voicemail picked up.
“Hey, this is Ray. Now it’s your
Now
.
I turned around with one last look at the words, so boldly scrawled there for all the world to see, yet written solely for me. My steps, so unsure and unfocused as I had wandered this way, were now deliberate as I retraced them to make my way back to the office.
Yes, I would have to go back. For now. But there was a swell of hope in my chest as I walked, a feeling of promise.
Things were going to be different now. Things were going to change, and I was going to be the author of that change. I had a story to write, a life to live—and a passion to pursue.
I walked back with a small smile playing on my lips, the seeds of an idea beginning to germinate.
To: Neil Epstein
From: Zoë Trent
Subject: We meet at last!
Dear Neil—
It’s so nice to finally meet you.
Sort of.
I’d have preferred an in-person meeting, but this is definitely a step up from not being able to communicate at all. I’d ask you where you are, but I’m not sure that’s allowed. Ray seems to be hazy on the details of your exact location, so I’m guessing that not even he knows. So I’ll just say that I hope you’re doing well and that the time you’re spending over there, wherever “there” may be, is going quickly for you. The last two months here seem to have flown by.
So. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Zoë Trent, a fact that I’m sure you already knew, if Ray really did run all of this by you. I must admit, I was beginning to wonder.
I’m a single, non-smoking, non-partying twenty-four-year-old bookkeeper who generally lives a very boring life and tends to keep to herself, so you needn’t worry that you’ll come home to a destroyed house that reeks of an ashtray and stale beer.
I want to thank you for being so generous in trusting me with your home. The situation may not be the most ideal, since we don’t know each other; but I have to tell you that your home has been a sanctuary to me over the past two months.
Thank you for that.
Well, I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much to read, so I’m going to sign off and hope that I hear back from you soon.
Take care and stay safe!
Zoë
To: Zoë Trent
From: Neil Epstein
Subject: RE: We meet at last!
Zoë:
I’m glad to “meet” you, too. And you’re welcome—but I think I should be the one thanking you. I’m glad to know that my house is in capable hands (Ray tells me he would trust you with his children—which might mean a little more if he actually had any, but still). As I said in my letter, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with any questions about the house.
Yes, the last two months have gone by quickly; and I’m hoping the next few do, as well.
Neil
I read the e-mail with a mix of curiosity and disappointment. There wasn’t any hint of personality; and to me, the exchange felt unsatisfying.
I took a sip of coffee and leaned back in my chair, still staring at the screen. I reread the last two lines and wondered if he was indirectly trying to tell me that he didn’t really want me to contact him unless it was absolutely necessary. He’d said basically the same thing in the letter he’d mailed.
I chewed my upper lip and swiveled back and forth, back and forth.
Was he really so detached?
I had imagined him to be somewhat charming, yet nothing in either the letter or the e-mail gave any hint of that. In fact, he seemed a bit flat.
If someone was staying in my house, and I’d finally gotten in contact with them, I’d want to know everything. But that was just me. The only explanation I could come up with for my need for information, for something other than cool anonymity, was the fact that I was here, in his home, among his things. Who could blame me for obsessing? It was a little like having an incomplete description of someone, and I hated to leave things incomplete.
I picked up my phone and dialed Ray. There were three rings, and then his voicemail picked up.
“Hey, this is Ray. Now it’s your
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