Page 39 of Dear Mr. Knightley
Dear Mr. Knightley,
What’s wrong with me?
I paced this apartment for two hours and I have no answers. No sleep and no answers. I planned to stay downtown tonight. I did. I told Josh as soon as I met him at the restaurant. I convinced myself it was right.
“That’s perfect, sweetheart. It’s about time.” He leaned over and gently kissed me, lingering too long with all his friends watching, but they do that too—so I guess it’s not a big deal.
The evening went great. Josh spent most of the night with his arm around my chair, acting more affectionate than I’ve ever seen him. It was wonderful. I’ve worried about telling him my past, but I felt so loved all night that the worries dissolved. It couldn’t have been a better evening.
Then Josh’s friend Logan stepped in. There’s a nastiness about him that repels me.
I think if Logan ever decided to go after someone, there would be no end to his depravity.
He may actually be a Dorian Gray. While looking over the dessert menu, Logan made a big show of yawning and checking his watch—a slick gold and silver thing he’s inordinately obsessed with.
“How’d it get so late? Sam, you’d better head to the Metra or catch a cab.
Josh, I know you get tired of always walking her, but a lady shouldn’t go alone.
I’ll stretch my legs and provide a proper escort.
Ready, Sam?” He stood up and leaned over the girl next to him.
“Lucy, be a love and keep Josh company.”
Josh’s arm tightened around my shoulder. “Sam’s staying with me tonight.”
“Is she?” Logan sat and let the question linger until he’d gotten everyone’s attention. He draped his arm across Lucy’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “This is a big night. Perhaps we shouldn’t have dessert. Wouldn’t want to get too full.” He stared straight at me. No blinking, just a hard smile.
“Let’s order. My treat.” Josh called over the waiter.
Logan hiked one corner of his mouth and continued to stare.
He was challenging me, undressing me, and dismissing me simultaneously—right across the table, while holding Lucy tight.
She looked equally uncomfortable. Josh caught none of it as he continued to jostle with his other friends, talking about their ad campaigns and trashing the competition’s upcoming Super Bowl commercials.
We sat for another half hour, then as we grabbed our coats, Josh’s hand brushed under my arm. He whispered in my ear, “Are you ready?” He wasn’t talking about hailing a cab. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Logan followed us out the door and waited with us, even though he lives only a few blocks from Café Ba-Ba-Reeba. He waited and watched. As I climbed into the cab, Logan elbowed Josh. “Have a great night, big man. See you at the office. I’ll bring the cigarettes—I mean doughnuts.”
Josh laughed and climbed in behind me. I didn’t know if he was offended and laughed to cover his embarrassment or he thought Logan was funny.
We all laugh at inappropriate things—I get that.
You don’t want to feel left out. But this was too far.
I felt like a piece of meat. It wasn’t Josh’s fault, but he didn’t stop it.
I told the cabdriver Josh’s address and sat silent. Josh took my hand. I didn’t pull away. I waited. When the cab pulled to a stop, Josh moved to get out.
“Josh, I’m heading back north tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He dropped back into the car. “Sam, that’s just Logan. You know him. He doesn’t mean anything.”
You knew Logan was out of line. “Yes, he does. He made me feel cheap, and you didn’t call him on it.”
“You’re overreacting, honey. Just forget about him and come inside. It’s cold.” He leaned in and kissed my neck. Then he pushed himself out of the car as if all was settled.
“Not tonight, Josh.” I reached for his door.
“You’re kidding. Right?” He was irritated now.
“No. Good night.” I tried to shut the door, but he held it open.
“You can’t keep doing this, Sam.”
“What?”
“This. Whatever this is to you.” And he slammed the door.
I turned to the cabdriver. “Sorry about that.” I gave him my address. “Do you mind driving all the way to Evanston?”
“Not at all, miss. Let’s get you home.” He sounded like he was glad to be rid of Josh too. He didn’t say another word, and I was grateful for that. My thoughts were loud enough. Was Josh right? Had I overreacted? Was I a prude? Or worse, a tease? Was Josh a jerk? We know what Logan was.
Now that I’ve cooled down, I admit that I took my anger with Logan out on Josh.
Or should Josh have shut him up? That’s where I’m still confused.
And there’s something else—something hard to explain.
Logan’s comment tonight saved me from a tough decision—and part of me is grateful for that.
His insult made it easy for me to leave.
It gave me courage. Next time, I’ll need to decide where I stand—on my own.
I tried to call Josh to explain, but he wouldn’t answer.
He says he sleeps with his cell phone next to his bed, so I assume he’s mad at me.
Any insights, Mr. Knightley? (That’s rhetorical, by the way.
I’ll explain after I finish this thought.) As I said, I don’t have enough experience for this, and I don’t want to ask my friends.
It’s tiresome to always be clueless, and this one’s a little more personal and embarrassing than my usual blunders.
I will let it rest for now. I’m sure I’ll have to pick this up again tomorrow and talk to Josh.
I’m sorry I launched into tonight’s events without addressing your letter.
It arrived today and made one thing very clear: I need these letters—as they are, with no changes to our agreement.
Thank you for the final chance to come to my senses.
Don’t write me. Never write me. I can’t believe I asked you.
The moment I opened your letter and saw your signature, I panicked.
I recalled all I’d told you, all you knew, and all I feared.
I felt more exposed than in the article Kyle and I wrote. You know my heart.
And tonight confirmed it. When I got home, I paced for a while, then knew I’d find comfort if I turned to you.
I’m not ready to give you up—just the way you are—a safe place in which to share my life and my dreams. Thank you for this.
I may keep asking questions—I can’t seem to help myself—but please, never supply the answers.
Time to sleep,
Sam