One More Chance Sugarcube

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Find: \ <<timed .5s>>R\ <<next>>a\ <<next>>y\ <<next>>m\ <<next>>o\ <<next>>n\ <<next>>d\ <<next>>[[Search]]\ <</timed>> <<set $rcounter to 0>>\

<table class="email"> |Raymond Williams|[[If you need me]]|12/17/18| </table>

<table class="email"> |Raymond Williams|[[A parting kiss]]|12/17/18| </table>

<<set $rcounter to $rcounter + 1>>\ Search: Raymond Results: (5) <table class="email"> |Me|[[You Can Find Me In Georgia]]|9/17/18| |Me|[[A Final Chance]]|4/15/2017| |Me|[[Another Chance]]|10/4/2009| |Me|[[Taking a Chance]]|4/1/1999| |Me|[[A Wild Chance]]|6/29/1996| </table> <<if $georgia is 1 and $final is 1 and $another is 1 and $taking is 1 and $wild is 1>> Would you like to [[delete]] or [[archive]] these messages? <</if>> <<if $rcounter is 1>> <marquee>My sweet</marquee> <<timed 5s>><marquee>My love</marquee> <<next>><marquee>My everything</marquee> <<next>><marquee>All the names</marquee> <<next>><marquee>Are yours</marquee> <</timed>> <<elseif $rcounter is 2>> <marquee>Remember my hand</marquee> <<timed 5s>><marquee>holding your head</marquee> <<next>><marquee>your eyes lost</marquee> <<next>><marquee>in sweet puddles of abandon</marquee> <<next>><marquee>as we became one</marquee> <</timed>> <<elseif $rcounter is 3>> <marquee>A voice becomes home</marquee> <<timed 5s>><marquee>Touch as intimate as self</marquee> <<next>><marquee>needs no symbolic distraction</marquee> <<next>><marquee>Yet you deserved</marquee> <<next>><marquee>more than I gave</marquee> <</timed>> <<elseif $rcounter is 4>> <marquee>Blue eyes, silent stones</marquee> <<timed 5s>><marquee>I'm not worth</marquee> <<next>><marquee>replacing possibilities</marquee> <<next>><marquee>with the cold disatisfaction</marquee> <<next>><marquee>of reality</marquee> <</timed>> <<elseif $rcounter is 5>> <marquee>Each strand of hair</marquee> <<timed 5s>><marquee>light as spun sugar</marquee> <<next>><marquee>smooth as spider silk</marquee> <<next>><marquee>sticky webs that held me</marquee> <<next>><marquee>snug but struggling</marquee> <</timed>> <<elseif $rcounter is 6>> <marquee>Seeds of desire</marquee> <<timed 5s>><marquee>under the pressure</marquee> <<next>><marquee>of slash & burn relations</marquee> <<next>><marquee>take the form</marquee> <<next>><marquee>of diamonds</marquee> <</timed>> <<else>> <</if>>

<<set $georgia = 1>> From: Me To: Raymond Williams Subject: You Can Find Me In Georgia \ Dear Ray, I tell myself every morning that my life is real. That you’re not going to come back. I won’t be melodramatic and say this will be the last email I send you. I may write again. I may beg more. You know me: Sweet, sweet Cassie who has no shame. Why should I have shame? Shouldn’t I continue to love my husband of nearly twenty years, even if he’s no longer living in my home, sharing my bed? I couldn’t stop myself from loving you the first night I met you, and by God, I’m not even going to try to stop loving you now. There. Shameless. You happy now? I’m not. But I’m in a better place than I was last year. Emersyn is at college, settled in nicely. She got a full scholarship and started classes two weeks ago. She’ll do well. But that leaves me alone at home. The adobe cottage we found so charming at the turn of the century feels empty and cold now. Cold! How can I be cold in Tucson? I’m certain it’s the drafts, even on the days barely a breeze comes through. Emersyn says it’s all in my head. She’s right. But I can’t stand to be in this house on my own. It feels pointless. I’m doing the logical thing. I’m getting out of the house. You’d be—Happy? Surprised? Maybe amused?—at what I did. I joined the Peace Corps. Finally. I’m leaving for Georgia—the country, not the state—next month. I didn’t think they would accept me. I thought the Peace Corps was for dreamers in their twenties, fresh out of college. I thought my time had passed. I gave up this dream when I pursued other ones. Ones called Ray and Emersyn. But apparently the people at the Peace Corps don’t care if you’re in your mid-forties and just need a change. They’re willing to give anyone a shot at a dream. Or at least me. So, I wanted to say you won’t find me at our house in the foothills. You won’t find me hiking our favorite trails at sunset. Don’t bother looking for me where you left me. I’ll be in the mountains of Georgia. Maybe there, I’ll find myself. Love, Cassie @@.right; [[Back->Search]] @@

<<set $final = 1>>\ \ From: Me To: Raymond Williams Subject: A Final Chance \ Dear Ray, It’s pointless for me to write this email. You’re gone. I know that. I might be losing my grip on reality, but I understand what happened. Once every five years the temperature can drop below freezing, and you had to go out that night. A patch of ice can apparently take down the strongest man I’ve ever known. I replay the scene—one I didn’t actually see—over and over. Your car slipped out of control. You tried to correct. Over-corrected. You always were committed to your actions. I never imagined that would be the death of you. Your mom came. Your sister. In those dark weeks, when I felt like my soul had left my body, they took over for me, let me crumble. There were days, when I was gone. It was as if I was out searching for you. Hoping against hope to find you and bring you back where you belong. Because wherever you are now, let’s be clear, it’s not where you belong. You belong here. With me. With your daughter. Why did you leave us? Forgive the pointless questions. They swim in my mind, overtake the little logic I cling to. I know it wasn’t your choice. I know these questions have no answer. I’m writing this in the dark of our room, in a bed that is too big for me. It’s two in the morning, and if you were home you would bring me a hot tea, wrap an arm around my shoulders, and ask what’s keeping me up. But you’re not here. Your mother’s in the spare bedroom. Your sister still sleeps on the couch. They wouldn’t judge me for writing this. Your mother would murmur something about saying goodbye. Their grief echoes mine, so they think they understand. I’m not saying goodbye, though. I’m writing this email because you always came. Every single time I wrote you an email, you came. You never bothered replying. You just showed up. Please, Ray. Don’t reply. I’m giving you a final chance to show up. I’m calling at you across the void, begging you. Come back. Love, Cassie @@.right; [[Back->Search]] @@

<<set $another = 1>>\ From: Me To: Raymond Williams Subject: Another Chance \ Dear Ray, I’ve been thinking of how to write this email for days now. Hell, weeks. I even asked Suzanne what she would say. She told me I shouldn’t tell you I forgive you. Forgiveness is something you have to ask for, and you haven’t. But I don’t care what Suzanne says. You’ve always thought she was too formal and stiff, anyway, and this isn’t about her. It’s about you. Me and you. Devil be damned, I forgive you. Whether or not you want it. I forgive you. Whether or not you come back. I forgive you. I know how stubborn you are. When you first read those words, you’ll think, “Who does she think she is to forgive me?” You’ll get mad. Defensive. That’s okay. Maybe this email will push you further away. Maybe it will solidify your love for whatever-her-name-is. (Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. Really.) But maybe, just maybe, it will have the opposite effect. Maybe you'll take your time to simmer and seethe, and this email will remind you I’m out here, waiting for you. Maybe it will remind you that you love me. That you love our daughter. Maybe it will give you the opening you need to leave whatever-her-name-is and come back to us. You know I hate email. It’s too impersonal. I’d rather call you. Even better, talk face to face. But you took away that option. I have to email you, because I don’t know where you are, and because you changed your number. I could call your mother. She knows where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing. I could call your sister. She’s probably just as pissed off as I was when I found out. But this has nothing to do with them. So I’m resorting to email. I’m hoping you won’t delete this without opening it. I’m hoping you will read it and remember that we’re a family. Here’s your chance, Ray. Please, take it. Come back to us. Love, Cassie @@.right; [[Back->Search]] @@

<<set $taking = 1>>\ From: Me To: Raymond Williams Subject: Taking A Chance \ Dear Ray, I should wait until tomorrow to send this to you. You’ll think it’s just an April Fool’s joke if I send it today. It isn’t. You should know me better than that. I wouldn’t joke about something like this. I’m not sure how to write this to you, so I’ll just say it. I’m pregnant. I went to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy last week, and she said I was five weeks pregnant. It’s a Valentine’s Day baby. Our baby. I know we’re over. It wasn’t working. I had too much resentment over the life I gave up to be with you, and you had too much anger over my resentment. Besides, neither of us were looking for anything serious, and hell, we tried for a good two years. What more could I ask? Yes, we had some amazing times, but I don’t pretend that Valentine’s Day was anything other than revisiting the past. I didn’t think we were getting back together, and I expected nothing more from you than what it was supposed to be: a fun night. My stance hasn’t changed. I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not writing this to make you feel guilty or with any hope we’ll get back together. I’m writing it simply to inform you of the reality: I’m pregnant, and I intend to keep the baby. That being said, if you want to be a part of this baby’s life, you are welcome. But you should understand this baby is part of me, so when you’re part of their life, you will also be part of my life. As high as our peaks were, our valleys were just as low. We fought. There was jealousy. Don’t let this one piece of news erase those memories. If you want to chance moving past them, let me know. I don’t expect to hear from you. I expect nothing. But I’m willing to take a chance. Sincerely, Cassie @@.right; [[Back->Search]] @@

<<set $wild = 1>> From: Me To: Raymond Williams Subject: A Final Chance \ Hey Ray! I found your email in the participant list from last week’s conference. This may seem weird, but I wanted to write you and say thank you for a wonderful night. The night I spent with you was unexpected, but fun and freeing. Thank you for sharing that experience with me. I hope you aren’t offended I’m writing to you. I know it’s a little weird to look up your email when you didn’t give it to me. I’m hoping you find it cute/sweet and not creepy/stalkerish. Honestly, I can’t stop thinking about that night. I got back from the conference, and I should be writing up reports for work, but instead I’m thinking about you. You probably won’t believe me, but I don’t usually do things like that. No regrets, though. But now I’m left wondering… maybe it doesn’t have to be a one-night kinda thing? I can’t help but think you’re worth getting to know. I’m curious if you felt it, too, or if it’s all in my head. (Or in my body, maybe?) Like I said last week, I leave for the Peace Corps in three months, so it’s not like I’m looking for something long-term. My contract at work finishes in two weeks, so I’ll be super wild and free in my last days here. I think I’d like to spend some of that time with you, if you’re interested. OMG! You probably think I’m totally weird now. But you liked how forward I was in the hotel, so I’m going to try honesty once again. If you want to take a chance on what could be a few fun, mind-blowing months, let me know. Cassie @@.right; [[Back->Search]] @@

From: Raymond Williams To: Me Subject: A parting kiss \ Dear Cassie, I never wrote you, but I always answered your emails. I showed up on your doorstep, collapsed into your arms. This time, this is the closest I can come--a ghost in your computer to give you a parting kiss. Short of dementia, it will be impossible to forget me, but try not to dwell. Go on with your life. Take all the chances you held open for me. Explore. Be free. Know that however you grow and change, I will love you. Love, Raymond <marquee class="thoughts">End</marquee>

From: Raymond Williams To: Me Subject: If you need me \ Dear Cassie, I never wrote you, but I always answered your emails. I showed up on your doorstep, collapsed into your arms. This time, this is the closest I can come--a ghost in your computer to give you a parting kiss. As your pain lightens, I fade. That's okay. Ghosts aren't meant to stick around year after year, keeping living bodies chilled with our embrace. But tuck me deep down in your memory. Keep me safe in a place where, someday, I can comfort you if you feel alone. If you need me. Love, Raymond <marquee class="thoughts end">End</marquee>