So Long, Farewell, Goodbye

Dear Eamon,

I’ve been haunting the mailbox every day, waiting for the surprise you promised. Don’t get me wrong, I love your letters, but you’ve been teasing this for so long, I think I’ve become impatient.

Mom looks at me like I’m crazy. I think she’s the one going bonkers from having to see me every day; walk past the living room, open the door with expectation, and listen to the disappointing squeak of the old mailbox as I close it. I’ve even gotten Mike’s (our mailman’s) timing down. It’s ridiculous. But, like I said, I can’t wait for your surprise. Whatever it is, I know it would make my day.

Tomorrow is the last day of senior year! Woo hoo? I guess. How did you feel when you knew it was over? I know it was two years ago but help me out here! Honestly, I’m not sure how to feel about it. I’m happy school is over, but I’m sad that high school becomes a memory. Don’t think this is silly, but I’m going to miss my lunch breaks with the twins at the pavilion. That’s where they get to hear all about our exchanges, and they’re still convinced you’re not real. When I told them, we agreed to spur the mystery between us with no pictures, strictly descriptions. They found it banal. Last month you were an old billionaire desperate for a companion; this week you were a sex predator baiting me as your prey, and I won’t be surprised if next week you’re dubbed the lone wolf from Shattered Island, whose only connections are with strangers on the web.

I think they’re tired of hearing about how wonderful you seem. And they might be jealous that they haven’t landed someone just as kind and interesting in the pen pal programmes. I’ve told them to give it time; the best things never come knocking.

Now, I told you about Ryan being distant lately. He broke up with me two days ago. He said when he looked at his future, I didn’t feature. And he looked, because two months ago he found out he’d be going to Wimbledon on a football scholarship. He said he didn’t want to tell me because he wanted to be sure that when we discussed what it meant for the two of us going forward, it would be a needed conversation. I guess I should respect that? But two months? It’s funny how change helps us put things into perspective. I’m sure I’ll get over it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting around in track pants stuffing my face with cake and ice cream. But I’m not exactly blowing it off like I have no feelings in this at all. I just wonder how long he felt our relationship was just stagnant; no highs, no lows, just there. How long was he unhappy? And why he couldn’t do us all a favour and just leave it sooner. Then our history together would be a lot shorter and I’d have less to remember… Sorry, I’m rambling!

But, right now, I have a lot on my mind to keep me busy. I’m still carrying on with the babysitting over the summer. The twins and I are thinking of starting a neighbourhood day camp for the kids. So far, we have plenty of parents who love the idea and wouldn’t mind signing their own kids up. Obviously, it would mean we’d need extra hands. I’d ask you, but I know you’re already preoccupied with your trip to the Canyons, was it? I can’t wait to hear all about it. I’m envious and delighted that at least someone I like will be having an awesome time this summer.

As for my plans for college—there are no plans. I guess this makes this one of the five things we have in common. (Yes, I’m counting!) Right now, Mom and Dad can’t afford it, or anything at all for that matter. So I’m crossing my fingers that this day camp business will work out and maybe I can save enough to go on that Hellion Writing Cruise I told you about.

Hey! Here’s an idea. I know you’ve said you dabbled in writing, so if you want, how about we both try to get in. No pressure, of course!

I’ll talk to you soon, the twins are here…

Xoxo,
Sophie

I had this foolish grin on my face the whole time. I couldn’t believe her friends still thought I was a creep. Then again, plots like these don’t always have the best outcomes. But I bet that when they saw me, they would change their minds. I would be everything Sophie said, but I hoped she sold me short; lowering expectations never killed anybody. Especially since Sophie only knew what I chose to tell her. I’m not exactly a lady’s man here in Peridot. I’ve been dubbed a ‘narcissist’ by former flames countlessly. But in my defence, those girls only felt that way when I wrote them a poem for their birthday as opposed to offering them a Chanel bracelet. Or when I suggested we should go for a hike for Valentine’s Day instead of dining at Chateau Marmont. In both cases, I was scolded for not being an attentive boyfriend and making the relationship always about ‘me’.

But so long to the Ambers and Tiffanys of the world, hello Sophie! Not to say she wouldn’t mind pampering herself. But when I pictured Sophie, I wouldn’t draw her with sad eyes. Clearly, there was disappointment in her life, but she never got used to it. It almost seemed like she was yet to be ruined by chivalry and valour, but deserving of Dior and Michelin stars. There was something about her that was different; almost dangerously safe. And I was drawn to that. But again, as an honorary narcissist, I could be projecting. How would I know?

“Master Eamon!” Sylvie called. She was one of the many caretakers of the palace.

A palace that my dad feels I’m a little ungrateful for. ‘Everyone wants to be you, Eamon…’ he would say. “But very few get a chance to! So stop walking around like it’s a shit spot.” Those were the brazen words of Sir Elliot Godfrey the Eighth. The fairy godfather we should be thankful for. By ‘we’, I meant Edgar, Edward, Edsel, and Eda. I happened to be the youngest of the Godfrey bunch. It had its perks, the most important one being zero expectation from Dad. He told me that I had the catchphrase “Godfrey burdened,” stamped on my forehead, which would scare investors away. “And if you keep that up, you’ll never run this place,” he’d say nonchalantly. It really didn’t matter to him. The elder boys were already primed to inherit the crown when he turned to dust anyway. Although, I felt like I could also have a go at it if need be. The empire was structured in a way one didn’t necessarily need years of experience and preparation to take over; the best and the most difficult bits had already been taken care of by our founding fathers. And so, every Godfrey who came after, including Dad, wasn’t doing any heavy lifting, comparatively. They were merely pushing buttons. As for how I knew this? During my business analyst days, as short-lived as it was, I killed a lot of hours studying the Godfrey books. And from what I got, money had been working for this family for decades now, not the other way around. If anybody asked me, I’d say we had enough to retire the next ten generations of Godfreys if we wanted. And that every venture we had running now was just us being greedy. But what would I know? I wasn’t cut out for the ledgers, which was why it was short-lived.

And Eda, who was a year older than I was, shared the same fate; nobody cared if we were caterpillars or butterflies. Except she had a more difficult time accepting it, which is why she thought advertising the Godfrey wealth—by attending high-end social events (which she dragged me to), parading in designer outfits, or dining in expensive taste—made her valuable to the empire. Dad didn’t care! Money had spenders; everybody already knew that. But Eda countered, her presence simply reminded people that the Godfreys weren’t dead, that we were a force to be reckoned with. I love you, Eda, but a five-nine, hundred-and-twenty-pound, auburn-haired twenty-one-year-old, draped in Swarovski crystals, didn’t remind the locals or the competition that the Godfreys bankrolled Peridot. All anybody had to do was look up and they’d know.

“Master Eamon!” Sylvie called again.

I pulled on a robe and walked to the door. She always greeted me with a smile, like she never had anything to complain about. And that she was just happy to be here. I never believed it; there must have been some Godfrey crap she could do without. I could think of many. “Daniel wants you to know the car is ready for you, and that if you’re not down in the next hour, you will miss your flight,” she uttered before curtseying. I hated when she did that. And I’ve told her to stop, and to give me a high five instead. But she wouldn’t listen.

Daniel was another one of the many employees. He had been the family’s driver for the last thirty years, which meant he’d been with us since Edgar was born. I wondered which one of us Godfrey kids made him think twice about quitting. My money would be on the scrupulous Edward or the beloved prima donna Eda. I considered myself a piece of cake compared to the rest.

“Tell Daniel, I’m as eager to leave as he was thirty years ago,” I chanted as Sylvie made her way downstairs. She naturally smiled politely and had never entertained my jokes. However, a laugh once in a while wouldn’t necessarily reduce her to unemployment. Eda, on the other hand, was exiting her room with a parcel in her hand and scowled at my commentary. And I didn’t think it was my words that put her in a foul mood.

“What’s this about a trip?” she said as she shoved the parcel into my chest. The parcel wasn’t hers to begin with, but private property couldn’t keep Eda from serving her own curiosity. I noticed she had already helped herself and opened it. Peering at the contents, my heart was overwhelmed with a wealth of hope. Mickey from Godfrey Publishers came through for me with two copies of my book, “From Eamon to Sophie.” The book was a compilation of all the emails Sophie and I had exchanged over the time we’d been pen pals. I figured I would have a copy for myself and gift the other one to Sophie.

“It says exclusive,” I pointed to the top corner of the cover page, which Eda clearly missed. “You can never mind your own business, can you?”

I didn’t expect an “I am sorry” or anything from Eda. I was used to her unapologetic ways.

“I know that smile, Eamon,” was all she said as I placed the books in my rucksack. It was typical of her to change the subject. And there was no smile. She made that up. I was casually filling up my rucksack with my toiletries; who smiled doing that?

“This Sophie girl sounds very special,” she continued. I was still waiting for her to get her point across. “By the way, where the hell is Westin or is it Weston?”

“It’s none of your business, Eda,” I sighed. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t embarrassed about Sophie; she was just someone I didn’t want to share, especially with the family. And on that note, I let Eda have her words without protest, and later ended up kissing her on the cheek before pushing her out the door.

When I met Daniel waiting for me in the driveway, I began to have second thoughts. Maybe it had everything to do with what Eda said, or maybe I was getting in my own way. I mean, what if Sophie wouldn’t appreciate the gesture? And what if she did, but didn’t live up to the response in my head? And what if I wasn’t all I was cracked up to be?

“All set, Master Eamon?” Daniel said, interrupting my thoughts. I was all set.