the blind side of love | chaennie

eighteen

Decisions sometimes came in bulk, Jennie learned the following morning as she read over Roseanne's last email. She felt a mix of emotions as she read: panic at the thought that Roseanne wanted to know more about her, as well as an odd sense of flattery over the same; anger at Roseanne's boyfriend for cheating; sadness that Roseanne blamed, in some part, herself; and other things that she didn't have a name for.

She sat back on her chair, sipping soda that doubled as her breakfast, and contemplating her options. Not writing back would be insensitive, Jennie recognized, though writing back could only lead to a myriad of complications. Complications which she had foreseen, but chosen to ignore. She should've ended things at the beginning, or better yet, not started things at all.

Now she was stuck. Stuck between wanting to be honest, and not knowing how. She sighed, placing the can on the desk and hitting the reply icon on the screen.

To: Roseanne Park 

From: Ruby Jane

Subject: Re: Your Art

Dear Rosie,

Jennie waited for the right words to come to mind. When they didn't, she removed her fingers from the keyboard and looked around her room. Her gaze landed on the time and she leaned back, letting the chair swing back and forth. She had three hours to write back to Roseanne, shower, get dressed, and get to her scheduled brunch date with Irene Bae.

Why writing back to Roseanne rated first on her list of things to do, she wasn't sure. Something told her that if she didn't write back before she left, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. That fact danced along the edges of her mind, inching toward a mild sort of worry.

The cursor on the screen ticked away the seconds, and Jennie straightened up.

Dear Rosie,

I'm also a novice at this communicating-through-email thing, so I wouldn't worry too much about the protocol. I'm perfectly happy playing it by ear. To be honest, I didn't expect our virtual interaction to last more than an email or two. I'm not known for trying to befriend strangers out of the blue.

I'm sorry about how things turned out with you and your ex-boyfriend. I know you feel somewhat responsible for the outcome, but I still think it was a shitty thing he did. He could've told you if he was unhappy. But it's not really my place to comment one way or the other. Regardless, I hope that you find happiness, or at least the path back to your art. I think perhaps the latter would lead to the former...

Anyway, about me. Let's see. It's an odd thing to summarize oneself. Where do you begin? You asked about my age, so I guess I'll start there: I'm twenty-five. My hobbies ... hm. I read a lot. I like to cook (contemplated culinary school for a while, actually). I swim when I have the time. I don't have any odd hobbies or special skills. I don't collect things or fly model airplanes in my spare time or anything of the sort. I guess that makes me pretty boring (or just normal, depending on your world view – which in mine kind of amounts to the same thing).

I guess that's all pretty common and maybe doesn't paint a very good picture of who I am. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure who I am. I like to think I do, or pretend that I do, but I don't. Not really. Maybe that's why I chose acting as a career.

Jennie frowned thoughtfully, debating whether or not to leave the last paragraph in. She didn't want to lie, but it didn't mean she had to put the whole truth on a silver platter for Roseanne to dissect.

Not yet, anyway.

She highlighted the last paragraph, and clicked a random key. Then she rolled her eyes. "I sound so lame."