Dear Adam (5 page)

Mmm, plum risotto. Yum.

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From: Adam -

Date: Thu, Aug 2, at 3:19 PM

To: Eden E

You're trying to get a rise out of me. It's
devoid because I can see what you're doing. Though I know it's in
good humour.

Anyway, dear, I find it rather amusing you
mentioned that, because while you were writing that mail, I read
your review of that book and thought that the book sounded so
ridiculous, I ordered it to confirm this theory. I think a lot of
intellectuals, who are somehow branded scientists nowadays, talk a
lot of shit, and get paid for it. Ha, frankly.

I admire your attempt at putting words into
my mouth. You're a cute one aren't you?

Ultimately, the men who allow themselves to
be emasculated deserve to be. I don't believe that the world is in
that state, but I think the mainstream media likes to portray this
notion and ram it down the throats of the young in some kind of
twisted effort to manipulate the development of their views. It's
all propaganda. Though if I were to tackle some of the problems I
see in this world, I'd start with something more pressing than
gender roles.

Support my claim? Bossy little lady aren't
you? The new? I am tolerant. I own an iPad. I am concerned about
the environment. Satisfied? (Though wind turbines all need knocking
down and hybrid cars need crushing).

I've had a colourful life. I am not the
person I used to be although fear is something that lingers. When
people have feared you, reputation is not something that is easily
amended. I am not mean-spirited. I try to do good for other people
in fact, without this endless quest for recognition that people
deny they want when they do charitable endeavours, yet they are
always there, lingering around the limelight.

There is an incurable darkness behind my
eyes, but I am its commander, not the other way around.

I am responsible for people and that
involves control. Because of my professional life, it means a lot
of control. Though that will all come to an end in two years. My
real aim is simplicity.

I'm not toning down my confidence, more how
I project it, because this medium we are using to communicate, even
though we are both skilled at using the pen, often leads to things
being misconstrued, especially when you are not well acquainted
with the recipient of your words.

Respect, loyalty, and honesty are the three
most important ethics in my life.

I don't think you'd dislike me for my
egomaniacal ways, perhaps other things.

I'm glad we stumbled upon each other,
Eden.

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From: Eden E

Date: Thu, Aug 2, at 3:45 PM

To: Adam -

Was I putting words in your mouth? All I
have are the words you give me, so I have to read into them. Or
should I just consume your words without question?

Incurable darkness. You do know how to get
me wondering. I'd ask you to explain but perhaps for next time.

It's past midnight in Sicily so I will let
you rest. That smoky after-dinner picture you painted for me is
blending into scenes from The Godfather.

Stumbled upon each other ... I don't know
quite what to make of all this. So I'll pretend I'm reading a book
and just keep turning the pages. Curiouser and curiouser.

Good night.

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From: Adam -

Date: Thu, Aug 2, at 3:48 PM

To: Eden E

I was pulling your leg. I enjoy your
opposition. It's intelligent.

OK, ask me to explain next time.

Il Padrino, a classic film, the only one I
know that was 100% true to the book.

It's certainly an unexpected page
turner.

Good night (standard definition).

p.s. If you keep sending me to bed, I'll
start calling you mother.

Did they just stumble upon one another, as
Adam claimed?

After work, Eden went home and pored over
their e-mails, word for word. She still couldn't believe he was
only 28. His tastes were too old-fashioned.

Was he as sexist as he seemed to be - calling
feminists "silly creatures" or was he just trying to bait her? Why
didn't it repel her as it should have?

Perhaps she was too flattered by the fact he
had been reading her blog entries. Her review of the book on
evolutionary psychology was from a month ago.

She can't deny that she was more than curious
about him. The day had passed so quickly, too quickly, while she
had been engrossed in their exchange. The more he revealed about
himself, the more fascinated she became.

She Googled images of Agrigento. There were
pictures of a sunny area, with lots of green fields, near the
sea.

She checked the time he said he was eating
dinner - with the time difference, around 9:00 p.m. It was the
appropriate time for dining in Southern Italy, as she recalled. The
sprinkling of Italian words and dishes, the reference to being on
an island seemed to indicate that he could be in Sicily.

She noted his spelling of certain words -
"colour", "neighbour" - all British spellings. He might be the
Englishman he claimed.

He answered all her questions, which she
threw out like challenges, waiting for him to evade. He seemed as
straightforward as a stranger could be. At least on paper.

What if he was really Troy in disguise,
luring her into starting their relationship anew?

Or an attorney in the office, the one who
delighted in playing pranks on people and had goaded her for months
before her obstinate refusal to engage finally discouraged him?

Or one of the cops, the type who mistakenly
thought a single mother would be grateful for any type of male
attention, even from a married man?

She didn't at all consider her ex-husband -
he didn't even own a computer.

Only Troy knew about her blog, and the man
she was corresponding with didn't write like Troy would write. Troy
was romantic, but more wishy-washy. This man did not seem to have a
dreamy side to him at all.

When she started the blog, she hadn't been
too careful about hiding her real name. Now she was a lot more
private. She had tried to delete every instance where her identity
could be compromised. But everything on the Internet was forever.
If someone who knew her name were to dig long and hard, eventually
they could uncover the existence of her blog. And vice-versa.

None of the cops she knew could possibly
pretend to be so well-read or sophisticated. They were like little
boys with guns. All macho bravado and action. Try as she could, she
couldn't picture any of them writing with Adam's eloquence. The
attorney would be the most likely culprit, but his prankster
personality was at odds with the man who wrote those poems. Unless
it was a cover.

She couldn't imagine anyone she knew as the
man who was writing to her. He was like no one she had ever
met.

Adam wrote
abo
ut honesty
.
Should she believe him?

Chapter 4

Eden tried not to think of the mysterious
Englishman. She tried to tell herself that she must have been so
starved for attention that she had made more of an online
flirtation than it actually was. Yet she woke up the next day much
too excited to go to work to see what the next stage of their
conversation will bring. Another poem? More witty banter? A debate
on gender roles? Or something more serious?

She logged onto her private e-mail first
thing and stayed logged on, intermittently checking it throughout
the day. The morning came and went with nothing from him. She
visited other book blogs and commented perfunctorily, checked her
Twitter, and busied herself with work. The day started to drag.

By early afternoon she felt quite silly. She
had made more out of nothing. A stranger had been bored and started
communicating with her to pass the time - and two days later she
was forlorn when he had moved on to something or someone else. She
had been engaging in online social networking for three years and
should have known better than to become attached to something as
impermanent and inconsequential as an Internet connection. While
she had never been active on Facebook - only owning an account so
that she could view her friends and family's pictures - she had
been very social with other bloggers, much friendlier than she was
in real life. But they were all women, bookish nerds like her. As
in real life, she should have been more reserved when a man paid
her attention, even if it was only over the Internet.

She read his last e-mail to her, where he
threatened to call her "mother" for sending him to bed. Perhaps he
had merely had a change of heart, having reconsidered the age
difference as too great. He should have done so before sending her
a poem, before a whole day of sending e-mails back and forth. He
should have just ended it once he found out. Before she got
attached.

It was Friday afternoon and she had a weekend
of reading and activities on her list of 36 new things to occupy
her. Eden refused to feel sad for herself. There was a pile of
gorgeous new review books waiting at home.

She was trying to decide which one to crack
open that night when an e-mail from Adam arrived. Eden squelched
the treacherous surge of happiness she felt.

Subject: Hello

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From: Adam -

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 4:12 PM

To: Eden E

I have just returned home from a chaotic
day.

How are you my dear?

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From: Eden E

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 4:32 PM

To: Adam -

Finishing up at work. How are you?

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From: Adam -

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 4:33 PM

To: Eden E

I'm dead to the world, and had an exhausting
day, but I had to check in with my muse, ha.

Get home and have a drink woman!

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From: Eden E

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 4:34 PM

To: Adam -

I rarely drink. I'll be leaving in a
minute.

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From: Adam -

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 4:38 PM

To: Eden E

I didn't want you think I had neglected you.
That is to say, I couldn't have forewarned you of my complete
disappearance today, due to it being quite unexpected.

I'm lying on my bed. My mind is completely
active, but my muscles are melting into the mattress, if that makes
sense.

Any plans for this weekend? Perhaps you will
go to your allotment and sit around a fire while someone plays the
guitar and you eat the vegetables you have accumulated from the
day? Ha

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From: Eden E

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 4:56 PM

To: Adam -

My dear Adam,

You sound quite weary and I'm touched that
you thought of me before falling asleep.

Tomorrow night I plan on going to a bonfire
on the beach. Sunday, I will be kicking and punching things,
perhaps people.

I am not sending you to bed because you're
already there!

I have a bunch of burning questions for you
waiting when you have time.

Good night.

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From: Adam -

Date: Fri, Aug 3, at 5:00 PM

To: Eden E

I am ruined this evening.

That's the loophole is it? If I'm already in
bed it doesn't count? Ha

OK. Then I await your questions in the
morrow.

Good night.

Eden exited and logged off her work computer
with satisfaction. She had been reserved but not rude. He seemed
apologetic, even though there had been no need for him to be. They
"met" on Twitter and she should expect nothing of substance from an
event born of transience.