The Record of My Heart (Words #3.5) (11 page)

My darling girl,

I open tonight with a few words from Gustave Flaubert (who, I’ve decided, may be my emotional doppelgänger):

“I am entirely UNDONE since your departure; it seems to me as if I had not seen you for ten years…We separated at the moment when many things were on the point of coming to our lips. All the doors between us two are not yet open.”

When I stumbled across this letter, it struck a chord with me. The line about all the doors not being open yet makes me think of our dual isolation and the circumstances which have kept us apart, and yet not
driven
us apart. For almost a week now, we’ve shared only phone calls, texts and emails, and the coming days promise more of the same. We’re not giving up, though, and I, for one, feel more determined than ever to dedicate myself entirely to loving you deeply and faithfully and
sharing everything
, a notion which leads quite nicely into my next point…

I spoke to Penny this evening. She’s back, and full of excitement about the plans and arrangements she was able to take care of for the wedding, but obviously extremely happy to be back with Brad. She mentioned something during our chat—well, dug for information, I suppose is a better way of putting it—about whether I might consider bringing you to England for the wedding. I told her you’ll already be over there visiting family, and that I hadn’t broached the topic of you joining me, for a couple of reasons. First of all, I didn’t want to be presumptuous—Penny hadn’t invited you—but furthermore, you’ll be with your family, and I’d hate to interfere with your holiday plans and impose my family’s events on you. I’m leery of putting you on the spot.

Having said that, I’d love nothing more than to have you on my arm at Penny and Brad’s wedding. It’s sure to be an amazing day, and one I’d dearly love to share with you. Anyway, Penny’s decided she’s quite happy to put you on the spot (no surprise there), so she’s going to contact you at some point to invite you, and I’ll wait on tenterhooks for her to get her shit together, hoping that in the meantime your relatives in the UK don’t create an airtight itinerary with no escape clauses.

Well, my beauty, five more sleeps and we will be together. We can do this. In the week ahead, you’ll be preoccupied with finishing your exams, and I’ve been roped into helping Penny and Brad finish painting their main floor and spare room. Counting days will give way to counting hours, and before you know it, our reunion will be upon us. We will look back on this separation and laugh. One day we will say, “Remember when…”

One day, my love. One day soon.

Until then, I remain faithfully, yours. My heart and I are keeping your precious love, which consoles me daily, safely tucked away.

~Daniel

xoxoxo…

My gorgeous, sexy girl,

How ridiculous, forcing my fingers to tap out this mundane message after the journey they took today. What a divine expedition—from your lovely face to your neck, then lower, across the gloriously creamy expanse of skin lying in wait behind those five tiny buttons, and beyond…

It was so amazingly unexpected, spending those few stolen hours together. I can’t seem to stop sifting through the details, reliving the tiniest moments, all precursors to our weekend away and what, I now know (as if I didn’t before), will culminate in perfect bliss.

Do you want to know what I love, Aubrey? I’ll tell you. In no particular order—neither chronological nor “most to least” (nor vice versa, for that matter. Don’t look for logic, for there is none.)—these are the things I love:

Your lips.

Your hands.

Polka dots—yellow polka dots, in particular I adore.

Your breasts. God, don’t get me started…

Your touch.

Your kisses. There are never enough. Ten is not enough. A hundred wouldn’t be enough…a thousand…never enough. Etc.

Your incredible ass.

Did I mention your breasts? Ah yes, I see I did. Moving on.

The tiny silk bow at the top of your panties.

Your tongue.

YOUR YOGA PANTS.

The way your eyelashes fluttered this afternoon in the heat of the moment…in the heat of those few wonderful moments.

Your hair, tumbling across my chest as you slept. (I’m looking at a picture of this on my phone as I type. You don’t know I took this picture, but you’ll find out on Friday.)

Your lovely nipples, which I realize brings the topic around to your breasts again, but I hate to speak in vague generalities. Allow me to elucidate: you have the most perfectly delicious, pink nipples…

The arch of your back as I kissed your breasts for the first time, and the way you slipped your fingers through my hair, tugging hard.

Your lips forming my name as I touched you.

Your eyes.

The way your breath tickled my neck as you gasped with pleasure.

Your nails! I’ll never tire of the feel of your nails on my back. Exquisite.

Your arms. Your legs. Your feet. Your toes. Your cheeks. Your ears. Your perky nose… (That rhyme was entirely unintended, by the way, albeit terribly “adorable,” as you’re fond of calling me…)

All of this. All of this and more, I love.

You.

I love you, my beautiful Aubrey.

(I’m also a huge fan of Penny. I’m sure you’re with me on that. She gave us a precious gift today, wouldn’t you say?)

As for her finally giving you the wedding invitation, I hope you’re as thrilled as I am at the prospect of being together when she and Brad marry. Frankly, I feel as if I could explode with anticipation. There’s so much ahead of us…so many things to do and see and experience together.

You know, after today, I feel more greedy than ever—wanting to be with you, wanting to keep you all to myself, knowing I can’t possibly do that and desperately wanting to at the same time. There are so many more things that I have to learn about you, so many more undiscovered aspects of you to love. We’ve been in our “ready position” for so long, just waiting for that starter’s pistol. Knowing our journey toward mutual discovery is really in its infancy excites me beyond words.

I’ve decided Julie was right in March, when she said we were lucky to have the time to get to know each other before embarking on an intimate relationship. I see now how much more meaningful our time together will be this weekend, knowing how deeply I care for you. God, that sounds so trite. I am literally beyond words, at this point, to communicate to you how much I love you. I need another medium. What do you think? Dance? No, a dance would render me ridiculous, even to myself. I’ll leave the dancing business to Julie, shall I? How about a song? Now that’s actually an interesting idea…one I think I’ll ponder. In fact, I think I’ll give that some serious thought right away. After I phone you, of course. :)

~Daniel (AKA, the man who loves you from your head to your toes and adores all the delicious stops in between.)

xoxoxo…

Hello, sweetheart,

You know, I’ve come to the conclusion that this weekend will be amazing, but there is one tiny caveat. It can only be amazing if the effort of pulling everything together doesn’t kill me first. It’s a good thing I have so many people in my corner helping me out. Today, I’ve talked on the phone with Patty, my dad, Brad, Penny (twice), Jeremy, Julie, and even Matt, every single phone call revolving around the next four days. It’s absurd.

I called Patty just to let her know we’d be using the cottage this weekend—not that I needed her permission, but I felt compelled to let her know. She’s excited for us and wishes us well, of course. I’ll never be able to explain to her how much I appreciate and value her support. She’s so looking forward to getting to know you better. (I hope the feeling is mutual.)

My talk with my dad didn’t actually have to do with the weekend (with the exception of him reminding me about a few details when it comes to opening and closing the cottage—ever the pragmatist, my father). The reason I called him was to find out if he’d issued you an invitation to his party on Friday night. It turns out he still hasn’t done that. At least he got his shit together and had your invitation printed, but with the way he’s dragging his heels, I’m afraid you’ll have made other plans by the time he invites you. I want to knock his block off sometimes.

Aside from my call to him, every other phone conversation had to do with the logistics of the next few days. Brad’s lending me his truck so I can pick up the boat tomorrow and bring it to the cottage. Penny’s coming with me to keep me company during the journey. She’s also bringing lasagna to store in the fridge at the cottage, so you and I will have a meal ready to eat on the weekend. I’ve also secured her promise to help me “spruce up the place” in preparation for our arrival on Saturday.

As for Jeremy, I’ve decided to follow my grandfather’s footsteps and make sure you have some flowers waiting at home for you when you finish your exam tomorrow, but I’m bound by this damn promise I made, so I can’t buy you flowers. The only alternative is to pick wild ones. Penny is putting a bouquet of spring flowers together from her garden and Jeremy has agreed to deliver them, along with one final card, to your residence for me while Penny and I are up north. Of course, this arrangement necessitated a call to Matt to make sure he’ll be around when Jeremy drops by.

Finally, there’s Miss Harper. I’ve been thinking about what I wrote in last night’s letter. Though I was speaking in jest, I thought it might be kind of cool to write you a song, but given everything else I have going on over the next couple of days, I don’t have the time. Between the trek up north tomorrow and then marking through the evening and getting through all the chaos of Friday—and somehow working in a trip to La Vie en Rose and to Swarovski to pick up a couple of surprises—there aren’t enough hours in the day.

Instead of starting from scratch and writing you a song, I’m cheating a little. I decided to find one of your favorite poems and put that to music instead. I called Julie to pick her brain, and she told me about your fondness for Pablo Neruda. Needless to say, I did a little research, and I’ve found one of his poems that would perfectly suit a sunset cruise on Sunday. It’s called “In My Sky at Twilight,” and I’ve already worked out the melody.

I hope you’ll like it. Despite the melancholy tone, the words are very compelling. I’m particularly taken by the third stanza. I can’t wait to sing those words to you, though to be honest, I may have to shout that stanza. I think it’s become my new mantra. It goes something like this.

You.

Are.

Mine.

MINE.

Hope you’re okay with that. I sound awfully possessive, don’t I? Does it help to hear me say in return, that I am one-hundred percent, unequivocally yours, my love?

I hope so.

Yours.

YOURS,

~Daniel

xoxoxo…

P.S. I won’t be writing tomorrow. I know I won’t have time during the day, and I need to focus on your exam tomorrow night without distractions. I’ll be back on Friday, though, at which point we’ll be counting down the minutes. I can’t wait.

Hi, my lovely girl,

I have NEVER been so happy to turn the page of a calendar as I was this morning. May. It’s FINALLY May!

I mustn’t stay up too late writing. We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow, after all, and I’m going to need plenty of energy for the events I have planned. But I have to spill a little ink, first to apologize for the way things played out this evening. I had no idea Sabrina would be dropping off her parents at my dad’s reception, and I’m truly sorry her arrival caught you off guard. More than that, though, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was back in town. If I’d mentioned that, perhaps you would have been less taken aback when you saw her walk through the door tonight, and your evening wouldn’t have been ruined.

I’m not purposely treating you like a fragile vase that might break with the slightest jostle, Aubrey, I hope you know that. You can hold your own with Sabrina, and with anyone for that matter (Jesus, don’t I know it…). No, what I fear is the destruction of the tenuous connection between us and the potentially damaging effects of the stupid things that keep happening to us. After our talk tonight, though, I realize I have to stop trying to build a cocoon around us. We can’t avoid conflict, and my constant desire to circumvent issues only makes things worse in the long run.

We will face challenges and we will have arguments and squabbles. After all we’ve endured, I have to learn to trust in the strength of our love. It’s not a case of thinking you don’t love me. It’s just that there’s something intangible about our love. I think sometimes I need to feel its solidity—its concreteness—in order to truly trust it. I hate admitting that, but I know it’s simply a result of the situation we’ve found ourselves in. With time, I know this feeling will pass. I’m sure living out our relationship in the real world instead of in my imagination or in the pages and pages of these letters will help.

Please forgive me for being an ass. I will make it up to you. This weekend I will focus on setting things right and proving my worthiness in every possible way. In fact, I’m so intent on the deeds that must follow all these many, many words I’ve written leading up to this weekend that I’ve completely run out of things to say.

When I see you tomorrow, Aubrey, this will be my most ardent desire…to give you a thousand kisses everywhere…Until then, I send you a thousand imaginary kisses…everywhere…

Yours, in word, and soon, in deed,

~Daniel

xoxoxo…

My beautiful Aubrey,

Well, here I am. The morning after the most wonderful weekend of my life. It’s six a.m. I know. I’m crazy. I only got about four hours of sleep. That nap we took yesterday afternoon must have messed up my internal clock. Not that I’m complaining. It was the best nap ever. Falling asleep completely naked with you in my arms at two in the afternoon is certainly not something you’ll find me regretting.

In fact, I don’t regret a single second of this weekend. I wouldn’t change a solitary detail. Not one. Even Saturday night—making love to you for the first time in front of the fire—maybe I should kick myself for the way things played out. My anxiousness could have entirely ruined our evening, but how can I entertain a single regretful feeling about the way you comforted me? I’ve never been more grateful for another person’s presence of mind so entirely in my life. What a beautiful, caring soul you are. You are also incredibly sexy. You quickly obliterated any remaining anxiety I might have felt the second you straddled me.

Hello? Anxiety, shmanxiety!

You don’t understand how sexy you are, which I’m sure makes you even sexier. Knowing what I do now, I can’t help thinking back over the semester. It’s a very good thing I’ve been lost entirely in the world of my imagination. If I had the very real (and hot as fucking hell) image of you standing before the fire slowly undressing lodged in my mind’s eye all semester, we wouldn’t have made it through that first tutorial. I would have dismissed everyone but you within five minutes and insisted on tutoring you within an inch of your life.

With my tongue.

And other things.

Other very hard things.

One of these things is actually getting hard right now as I think about how it felt to touch you for the first time. Slipping my fingers between your creamy soft thighs that first time—that moment is emblazoned in my memory, and will be forever, I’m sure. It’s second only to the feeling of looking into your eyes as I finally, FINALLY experienced the unparalleled ecstasy of moving inside you.

“Transcendent” is a word that’s bandied around at times like this, as a lover tries to properly articulate the emotional heft of such a moment. Well, it’s safe to say that even the word “transcendent” is a feeble description of how it felt to connect with you like that, Aubrey. And making love to you in the middle of the night—the quiet passion of that experience—it almost brought tears to my eyes. Maybe a “real” man shouldn’t admit things like that, but I’m inclined to argue that only a real man would allow himself to acknowledge such depth of feeling and have the courage to share it with the woman he loves.

(At least that’s my story, and I’m damn well sticking to it.)

For me the past two days were full of moments like these. I’ve never enjoyed my time at the cottage so much. I’m sure the memories of our weekend will color every experience I have at the cottage from now on. How will I ever play pool there again? I’ll try to line up a shot, and all I’ll see is you lying there naked, rolling that damn eight ball in your hand and gazing up at me with those I-just-came-so-hard eyes. Good God. Balls will fly everywhere.

Interpret as you will.

And how can I possibly see that bed (where I shortened your life measurably—sorry about that) as a mere place to sleep, or look at that shower stall the same way again?

Actually, I’m quite happy to never look at that shower—or any shower for that matter—the same way again. Showering alone was becoming a decidedly unfortunate activity. Henceforth, I must never shower alone. This will take some rejigging of schedules etc., but I must always have you with me when I shower from this point forward.

Deal? Deal.

I could blither on ad nauseam about how hot you are, and about how great it is having frequent and mind-blowing sex with you, and how happy I am knowing I won’t have to eat another tomato ever again. I could rave on and on about your amazing lips and talented tongue, your soft breasts and exquisite ass, but that’s not all this weekend meant to me.

(Cue: your stunned face—I know it’s positively shocking…)

The past two days were an absolute affirmation of what I’ve been telling you for weeks, or at least what I’ve been thinking…I’m starting to lose track of what I’ve pondered here, and what I’ve actually told you. This is not good. Anyway, what I mean to say is you’ve brought such light and laughter into my life. For so long I’ve wished I could spend my days reveling in the fun of your company. As I told you yesterday, I think of the day I heard you and Matt laughing behind your apartment door at Jackman, and how desperately I wished that were me instead of him. And now it is.

I’m no longer on the other side of that door. In fact, all of the doors are open between us. These last couple of days were exactly what I’d been wishing for. Going for walks, playing in the games room, cooking and eating together, watching movies, boating…even being forced to chase you around the cottage nude because you stole my clothes—every moment was pure, unadulterated fun.

I’m not naïve enough to believe that we won’t continue to have trials and tribulations—every couple does—but you deal with everything so pragmatically. (At least it seems so to me. Perhaps you’d disagree.) I know there will be bumps in the road, but I’m sure we can face anything together.

I’ve searched in vain through the letters in this book of my grandfather’s, desperate for some passage that will help me to articulate how amazed I am that we stand here with a future before us. It’s been a frustrating journey to get to the point we’ve reached. It’s a journey that’s tested us, taking what started as attraction and a mutual interest and allowing it to become what I want to call complete communion. I can no longer imagine my life without you in it. That’s why I gave you the key to the condo, Aubrey, and why I hope you’ll use it.

What I’d dearly love is for you to move in lock, stock, and barrel, but I won’t pressure you. Doing that would get me nowhere fast, and in fact would most likely be counterproductive; but it’s difficult for me to keep my peace when I see no good reason for us to remain apart. It’s entirely safe for me to purge my deepest wish on this page, though. My deepest wish is this: I want you here. Every day. Always. Full-time.

I know I’ll talk to you soon and hopefully see you, as well. If all goes well, I’ll be able to convince you to come back here today so we can start christening the condo. Plus, I really need to shower, and how can I do that if you’re not here? A deal is a deal.

All my love,

~Daniel

xoxoxo…

Update: Monday, May 4, 11:30 p.m.

My lovely girl,

I must be crazy because I’ve left you alone in bed to sneak off to the office and write. You’re asleep, though, so it’s not like I’ve actually abandoned you. You’re dead to the world—even snoring a little. It’s very cute. I don’t blame you for conking out. I think it might have been the four glasses of wine and the…“after dinner activities.”

You’re absolutely exhausted.

Anyway, the reason I’ve come in here to write is that I was lying in bed thinking about this afternoon. Telling you a little more about my anxiety issues today—explaining all of my foibles and the events in my past which precipitated me developing these various eccentricities—was so incredibly liberating. It was also very eye-opening. You said you can see why I would have kept all of this to myself, but that it’s important for you to understand these things about me.
Of course
it’s important.

You bought yourself a notebook today so you can begin to write for enjoyment. You said it was only fair—I write about you, so shouldn’t you be able to write about me? I made you promise to continue telling me everything as well, and not just turning to the pages of your notebook when you felt the need to vent. What a hypocrite I am.

As much as I hate to admit it, I suppose writing all of my feelings here might be impeding me from sharing things with you as fully as I should. And so, although it pains me, I’ve decided it’s time to give my keyboard a rest. As my grandfather used to tell me when I was a kid, no one can read my mind. I have a tongue in my head and it’s my responsibility to use it.

Instead of pouring my heart out here, I’ll pour it out to you, my poppet, just as I did today. I think this will be good for my mental health. Beyond that, I believe it’ll be beneficial for our relationship. With that decision made, all that’s left is to share these letters with you, and I will—but not yet. Sharing them will be a gift, but more than that, it will be a daring leap of faith. I will know when the time is right. I look forward to that day, whenever it may be.

It’s difficult to know how to close three months’ worth of thoughts and feelings. Maybe simplicity is best. Please know that I cherish you with my whole heart. I don’t know how long these letters will remain under wraps, but until the day I share them with you, I will make sure you know—both with my words and my actions—that I love you.

Happily, I can now close my laptop, safe in the knowledge that in less than two minutes, I’ll crawl back into bed and pull you into my arms. You’ll then proceed to drool contentedly on my chest for the next seven hours.

And all will be right with the world.

Yours, in every conceivable way,

~Daniel

xoxoxo…