I am so sorry but I am not gonna be able to go to that show with you next week. It’s just, well, I miss Joe.

If I had a folding TV dinner tray I would hurl it at the window and pound my chest like a barbarian, like a thick-dicked alpha gorilla. Yes! You miss me! It’s true! You do! The countdown to the apocalypse is canceled and you miss me and I blow on my finger and I love life and C+C Music Factory and maybe Ethan really will learn Spanish and I read on:

I don’t know if it’s him per se or what we had. But I keep thinking about him and I keep almost calling and I am going to call if I don’t get out of here. So I am gonna go to Peach’s place in Little Compton and just kind of decompress.

And now I’m pacing because you love me so much you have to leave New York. It’s official. You are obsessed and you go on:

So, again, SO sorry to bail. But Peach says you are welcome to join if you want!

Chana’s response is epic and I love her and I love the world. She is succinct:

? Um, ok, Beck. You miss Joe so you’re running off to a deserted beach house in the dead of winter with Peach?

You: I need space.

Chana: Well, no offense but I don’t think of a Peach pit as “space.” See you when you’re back.

You miss me and you miss me and there’s an e-mail from Peach:

Beckalicious, you rule. I know you were on the verge of calling Joseph last night and I am SO PROUD OF YOU for not caving. You are so talented and you’re in school. Of course that has to come first. And Joseph above anyone would want you to do what’s best for you. Don’t be so hard on yourself, B. Anywho . . . we’re going to have a blast in LC. Oh. Before I forget, it turns out that most of the bedrooms are mid-renovation. I hate to do this but can you actually not invite C&L? Thanks!

Bedrooms are under construction but there is always room for one more. It’s vacation time! And before you can vacate you need to prepare! Everyone knows that! I bolt up the stairs and tell Ethan I’m going to the Gap.

“Don’t even look at anything in the front!” he advises. “Plow right on through to the back!”

“You’re a good man, Ethan,” I say and I mean it. “You’ll be speaking Spanish in no time!”

“Thanks, Joe! Or should I say . . . Gracias! And remember, it’s Tuesday!”

“I know,” I say. “All clearance items are forty percent off.”

“You know it, Joe!”

And I do. I can’t wait to get new things. I like old things but you like new things and maybe there’s something to be said for new things. You miss me and that’s new, and that’s good.

30

I’M back at the shop surrounded by newness, and maybe I’m more like you than I know because the new things are exciting, Beck. New bandages—clean!—new hat—wool!—new haircut—short!—and a new attitude—psyched! I let Ethan go home early and he said he was happy to see me in such high spirits. It’s only a matter of time before you reach out to me—you miss me—and I check your e-mail again because the news has been so good. Chana’s laying into you about your “LC” tweet:

Chana: “LC”? Beck, the only way you could sound like more of an asshole is if by “LC” you mean Lauren Conrad. You can’t call it “LC” if you’ve never been there. Which you haven’t, right?

You: Okay, you’re right. LC was a lame tweet. I just feel kind of off since Joe.

Chana: If you feel off, then you should be a grown-up and call him up and see him again. Running away with Princess Peach is literally the worst thing to do.

You: I know. It’s like in Sex and the City when Carrie is in Paris with the Russian and she says she can’t help but wonder what it would be like if she were there with Mr. Big.

Chana: Except that’s a bullshit TV show where they have to drag things out. This is real life. Stop being a drama queen and call him up. Who knows? Maybe he’ll even go to Rhode Island for a night.

Oh Beck, I’m going to be there every night. This is it. Our new beginning. You write back:

You: Hmm. That actually sounds kind of nice.

Chana: Then do it. Invite him. Fuck Peach. You can pretend he hunted you down all romantic and shit.

You: Maybe. Imagine if I just text him the address and say come lol.

And I check my phone for a text from you. Nothing. But it’s official, you want me and it’s official, I want you. I can’t sit around here and wait. I have to man up and I do. First things first, I find Peach’s family’s address online through a combination of an old article in Architectual Digest and Google Maps. Now I call Mr. Mooney and ask if it’s okay to go on a road trip and close up for a few days.

“Joe, you’re the boss over there now. And you know how I feel about January. It’s a waste. Take a vacation. You’ve earned it.”

And I have.

All the while, you’ve been e-mailing with Chana and Lynn, who is also on Team Joe, naturally:

Lynn: So why don’t you run away with him instead of Peach?

You: Please don’t hate on Peach. She’s going through a rough time.

Chana: Her whole life is a rough time. Ugh. Next!

Lynn: You know everything in that part of Rhode Island is closed, Beck.

You: Guys, please. It’s just a weekend. It’s not a big deal.

Chana: Tell her thanks for inviting me and Lynn. Whatever.

You: Chana, she did invite you. She asked me to invite you.

Lynn: That’s not the same thing as a personal invitation . . .

You: Guys, she’s depressed. You know she has a stalker, right?

Lynn: LOLOLOLOLOL

Chana: How much is she paying him?

Lynn: LOLOLOLOLOL

You: Guys . . . she means well

Chana: Of course $he doe$.

Lynn: #welldonechana

You:

I love your friends for being on my side. It means a lot to me and one day at our wedding I’ll thank them for it. I would like to say the same for Peach, but she’s not on Team Joe. She’s on Team Beck and she doesn’t understand that Team Beck and Team Joe are the same team. You’ve also been yapping with her:

Peach: Almost forgot, you will DIE over our library. Tons of first editions, Beck. Spalding was a friend of the family, we have tons signed, so much amazing stuff, real rare editions that you can’t get anywhere. I mean I have a signed To the Lighthouse. Virginia Woolf, well, it’s a long story better saved for this weekend over a bottle of Pinot.

You: You know who would love that? Ugh, of course you know who would love that.

Peach: I know, sweetie. I also promise that getting out of the city will be the best distraction.

You:

I toss your phone into the plastic Gap shopping bag. It’s time to stop reading your e-mail and start getting ready to see you. I can’t wait until you break down and write to me. And I know you will. You’ll be all alone in your bedroom in the beach house thinking about how much better it would be with me. You’ll text me and I’ll get there and you’ll let me in and we’ll sneak upstairs and have beach house sex. I am calm now that I know our fate. All I have to do is get to Little Compton and await your call.

I lock the basement doors and turn off the lights and try to remember where I parked Mr. Mooney’s car and wonder if I should take 95 the whole way. Murphy’s Law exists for a reason, so the front door opens and a few latecomers shuffle inside.