Work Text:
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected] , [email protected]
Date: August 4, 3:35 PM CDT
Subject: Fw: fw: fw: fw: fw: THIS REALLY WORKS
(;
-Ted
You have been blessed by…….the cow of good fortune!!!!
\|/ (__)
`\------(oo)
|| (__)
||w--|| \|/
\|/
This friendly cow brings good luck to all who recieve it. When Kelly Larson of Duluth, Minnesota saw this cow, she had just lost her job and was going to be kicked out of her house. She was down to her last dollars in the bank and was not going to be able to pay her morgage that month. But then she saw this cow and she was offered a new job with higher salary and also got a new car!!! Now she is happy and never worried. Her whole life changed and yours can too.
You can receive BLESSINGS and LOVE and LIGHT.
Pass this on to TWENTY PEOPLE and you will get the blessing of the friendly cow. If you BREAK THE CHAIN you will be cursed with 10 years of bad luck. Don’t break the chain!!!!!
From: [email protected]
Date: August 6, 2022 11:00 a.m GMT
Subject: re: Fw: fw: fw: fw: fw: THIS REALLY WORKS
Dear Ted,
No one knows your penchant for whimsy better than me, but chain letters about magic cows are a stretch even for you, I think.
I am, of course, honored that you thought of me in the same breath as the manager of Wichita’s most esteemed donut shop.
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 6, 2022 10:31 a.m. CDT
Subject: re: re: Fw: fw: fw: fw: fw: THIS REALLY WORKS
Trent Crimm, independent!
Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, that’s what I always say. And couldn’t we all use a little good luck?
Ted
P.S. For your information, the manager of the King Street Dunkin’ Donuts is one of my oldest and dearest friends. His name is Jakob Kowalczyk and he HAS to work at Dunkin’ because of a knee injury from when he was 13. Bet you’re feeling foolish now! (:
From: [email protected]
Date: August 6, 2022, 10:58 a.m. CDT
Subject: just kidding
Actually, I don’t know the manager of Dunkin Donuts. But I assume he could use cow blessings as much as the rest of us.
From: [email protected]
Date: August 7, 8:15 a.m GMT
Subject: re: just kidding
Dear Ted,
It’s reassuring to know that even Ted Lasso has to pad out the requirement for 20 unwilling chain email recipients in order to ward off bad luck. I presumed you had a welcome wagon in the thousands when you returned to American soil.
As to whether we could all use good luck… I’m not a superstitious man. In case you’re wondering, I haven’t forwarded your chore of an email.
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 8, 2022, 11:48 p.m. CDT
Subject: re: just kidding
Trent,
Ouch, a chore. Well, no need to forward it if it’s too much trouble; just thought I’d spread a little cheer.
Hah. The welcome wagon was a bit smaller than that. Lots of folks I used to know have moved on. Out of Kansas I mean. Funny how just a few years can change so much. Actually, there used to be this great donut shop we went to when Henry was little–drove there my first week back and couldn’t believe it when I saw the closed sign in the window. That explains the dunkin. Their coffee is terrible. Have you had their coffee? Don’t have their coffee.
Anyhoo, not to get all mopey on ya! Henry and Michelle were all I needed on the welcome wagon anyway.
Hope you’re well.
-Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 9, 2022, 11:17 a.m. GMT
Subject: re: just kidding
Dear Ted,
I experienced something similar when I returned to York, the city where I went to uni, after some years away. There was a chip shop next to the bookstore I worked at for three years, and I probably ate there twice a week or more. Horrible greasy floors, staff two sheets to the wind, stale chips. The place probably ought to have been condemned. When I went back a few years ago and saw it had become a bespoke boba shop, I felt like crying. It’s an outrage that takeaway restaurants can hold onto the past for us, but it does seem to be a consistent theme. In future I’ll try to lodge my more nostalgic feelings somewhere more permanent. Maybe I can associate Bea’s childhood with the Pret around the corner from Nelson Road.
I hope you are not finding Kansas to be a disappointment, after all that. Your absence is certainly noted here. By Jamie, at least. He tried to use “For Pete’s sake” after Bumbercatch made an own goal during training, but let me tell you, a Midlands accent simply does not carry the spirit of the phrase in the same way.
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 9, 2022, 8:02 p.m., CDT
Subject: re: just kidding
Trent, let me be real with you: I do not understand boba. Keeley made me try it once. She said it wouldn’t taste even a little bit like the tea I’d been forced to drink since moving here--said it would be sweet and creamy and even fruity if I wanted it to be. You know what? She was right. The tea was good. But every time I took a nice long sip through that big straw, a couple of those little chewy cannonballs would shoot right into my mouth. Gum up the whole works. They’re tasteless and it’s like eating rubber and I just don’t get the appeal. Completely baffling.
Damn that boba shop to hell, is what I’m saying.
Henry likes em, though. Says they’re “fun.” Maybe it’s cuz he has young teeth. What about Bea? No, I bet she has refined tastes. Can’t imagine plastic-wrapped sandwiches from Pret a Manger are really her thing either.
Oh, I didn’t mean to give that impression! Kansas is fine. Good. Henry is good. That’s what’s important. I’m coaching his football team this season! Soccer, I mean. Ain’t that a hoot?
Not that I don’t miss y’all. If things could have been different…
Well, if wishes were horses, huh?
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 10, 2022, 1:47 p.m. GMT
Subject: re: just kidding
Dear Ted,
Given that Bea cannot be trusted with chewing gum, I shudder to think what she would make of boba. She’d be 80% tapioca in a fortnight. (Yes, you can mock me for using the word ‘fortnight,’ but if you’re allowed all your foibles and catchphrases, I will hold onto mine too. Some habits are hard to break.)
So no, I wouldn’t describe my daughter as refined of taste. Today she returned from her week with Steph proclaiming that the only vegetable she would eat was grapes, and that mummy lets her have them in her pasta. There’s something particularly dispiriting about starting one’s rather short week with one’s child with her in a full-blown tantrum because I claimed pesto and green grapes don’t suit. On the other hand, her birthday will be a breeze.
I’m glad to hear that Kansas is treating you well–or fine , I suppose you said. Henry must be in middle school now, and I can’t imagine the host of frustrations that brings. Any “soccer” team is, as I believe you know, very lucky to have you.
Lord but this email has gotten very long, and I’m sure we have better things to do. As to what things could have been different, it’s probably best not to think about, don’t you agree? Focus on the future, is what I say.
No time like the present to learn about the offside rule.
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 10, 2022, 10:36 p.m. GMT
Subject: Follow-up to my message
Ted–
I didn’t mean to imply that I was angry, or holding a grudge, about anything at all. I don’t think I said I was, but I know you worry sometimes, and well. You shouldn’t worry about that. It’s all forgotten. I’m only grateful that you didn’t put too fine a point on it.
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 10, 2022, 11:38 PM CDT
Subject: re: Follow-up to my message
I’m glad you’re not angry, although I didn’t think you’d be angry , exactly–I was hoping you hadn’t even noticed, that you just sort of…let what almost happened (or. well. didn’t almost happen) slip away into the somewhat drunken haze of that evening. I really thought, if you did notice, you’d be–well. Embarrassed on my behalf, I suppose. I was a bit tipsy, and sentimental, and I…overstepped. I’m grateful to that young football fanatic with that astonishing hat for interrupting.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you noticed. Not just what happened that night—all of it. Me. Did you see it before I did, even? I bet. You’ve got sharp eyes.
I’m sorry. I should…I should be more careful. I understand, Trent, and goodness knows I don’t hold it against you. “As to what things could have been different, it’s probably best not to think about”--yes, you’re right, for the sake of my pride if nothing else. I do want to say that’s not what I meant, though, I only meant–well. There’s a world in which Henry lived with me in London and I got to stay with all my friends. I do think of you as a friend. I hope that’s all right.
And I don’t have better things to do than this, Trent, and I don’t think talking to you is a waste of time.
__ __
/ \.-"""-./ \
\ - - /
| o o |
\ .-'''-. /
'-\__Y__/-'
`---`Look how impressive this bear is. After that chain email I went looking for more like the cow. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to forward this one.
-Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 13, 2022, 11:45 p.m. GMT
Subject: A very impressive bear indeed
Dear Ted,
I have to admit something–i’ve been quite confused by your message. It’s clear that you’re wringing your hands over our last night together, and it’s quite unnecessary. I wish you’d told me earlier. You didn’t overstep in the least; I hope you know that. At the risk of saying too much, I think you were probably interpreting something in my expressions, something I’d been trying to keep to myself, and in your kindness…
You’re very people-oriented, Ted. You pivot to the spirit of the room, and you give people what they want. I didn’t understand that until I saw that you had your own demons, and that your upbeat coach persona is just that. Not that it’s not sincere, but it’s a sincerity targeted to a certain audience.
That particular evening we’d both had too much to drink, and I was not quite in control of myself, and I think you probably… responded to that, however involuntarily. You had every right to stop when you did, and I do wish you’d stop bothering yourself over it. I hope being at home again has freed you from all sorts of expectations from presumptuous Londoners.
There, that’s all that spewed out onto the page. As to whether we can be friends, I don’t hold self-recriminating email correspondence with people I don’t count as friends. You are not only a friend, you are a very good one, Ted.
I didn’t forward the bear, but I did copy-paste it into a blank document and print it out for Bea, who coloured it in with green and purple crayon, and a bit of the coffee table to boot.
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 14, 2022, 6:43 a.m. CDT
Subject: re: A very impressive bear indeed
Trent,
Well now I’m confused.
I give people what they want, I responded involuntarily to you--Trent, are you saying what I think you’re saying?
Now, I’m the first to admit that I’m not always the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to, what should we call it, interpreting the written word? But it does seem awful like what you’re saying is that that evening when we had a little too much to drink, you hypnotized me, nice accommodating Ted, with your…oh, your wit, and your excellent hair, I suppose…into nearly falling into your face as I tried to kiss you.
Yes, that’s what I did. Since we both seem to be confused, I thought I should put it plainly, as…difficult as that is to do. I tried to kiss you, Trent, and from my perspective you leaned back–like, way back, comically back, in my memory, limbo-champion levels of leaning back, but not like you were angry, just–you looked confused. And then that Richmond fan in the cat in the hat style blue and red striped hat with all that glitter and feathers, he barged in, and saved me from the excruciating embarrassment of having Trent Crimm, independent realize I’d just tried to plant one on him unprompted.
I hoped you’d just passed it off as drunken exuberance, or maybe forgotten it, but then you seemed to be…unhappy, in your emails, with me, and I thought, uh oh, he did figure out what I tried to do that night, only now it seems like you think you’re…some sort of…wily seducer? Mind influencer? An Edward Cullen type–or is it Lestat? Whichever one can do that thing. Glamor people. You’re not secretly a vampire, are you?
I don’t think even a vampire could turn me bisexual, Trent. Which is what I am. I kind of thought you knew. I mean, I’ve only known for about a year, but. You’re so–sharp-eyed. And I thought, some of our conversations…I thought you’d guessed.=
Well, there it is.
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 18, 2022, 9:15 a.m. GMT
Subject: re: A very impressive bear indeed
Dear Ted,
I apologise that this reply is so late. It has taken me some time to process your message, and I’ll admit I’m not always the quickest at sorting through my own feelings. However, it wasn’t kind of me to let you hang for so long.
It appears that we have both behaved like fools. But most especially me. I’m afraid that I simply assumed that you would never have
There, I’m coming back to this message in the morning, and leaving my abortive attempt at explaining in this message in the hopes of being brave.
I could tell you any number of sordid little stories of one-sided attachments, Ted, and maybe one day I will. I have enjoyed our friendship, and, I always thought, a little too much. It was just a little pash, I told myself, and perhaps it made me come to terms with some things about myself that I had been ignoring for a long time. But you were straight–and, just as importantly–completely absorbed with the club. And then eager to go home.
You said that you were determined to speak plainly, and I should give you the same kindness. That last night, i was tipsy and feeling affectionate, and probably embarrassing myself with my mooning, but apparently you didn’t notice. This is among the bigger shocks to me, if I’m honest. When you leaned in, I thought you were simply confused, or picking up on my vibe , and you didn’t know what it would mean to me, to look at me like that. I had to frame it that way or I would. Well. Allow myself to keep hoping.
I am a bit dismayed to know that you thought I was unhappy with you. Rejecting you even. I hold you in rather high esteem, Ted, probably far higher than you know. I was unhappy with myself.
So no, I didn’t guess. I was a solipsistic idiot, and not for the first time. I ought to congratulate you. Whatever could have happened, or not happened, between us, when we lived in the same place–I am very happy for you, Ted. I hope living authentically is a great source of joy for you.
I’m afraid I don’t know how to finish this email now, or what to say, so I’m just going to press send without rereading for once in my life.
Your vampire,
TC
From: [email protected]
Date: August 18, 2022, 7:34 a.m CDT
Subject: Message received
Trent,
I have to run off to Henry’s school–some sort of PTA thing, planning for the fall, etc.--and just wanted to let you know that I got your email and am planning to respond later and there’s no need to call yourself an idiot, Trent. Please don’t.
Had to look up “pash,” by the way.
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 18, 2022, 2:30 CDT
Subject: Vampires
Okay! Home again. I may have accidentally signed up to run a bake sale. Possibly multiple bake sales. I wonder how many cupcakes that means I have to make. Maybe I’ll make a cake. Something really impressive. Maybe I’m secretly a cake-decorating prodigy. Late-blooming. Who knows?
Listen, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about your email other than grin. I suspect you’re still doing some sort of hair-tearing, shirt-rending act based on the way you were talking about yourself but JUST IN CASE you hadn’t noticed, we both tried to kiss each other. We both wanted to kiss each other!
Did we fail? Sure did! Am I kicking myself over it? A little. But, come on, I mean–yes, we’re a million miles away now, and that’s a bummer, but–I can’t stop smiling.
I’ve been haunted by that night, Trent, because I really did worry I’d messed up our friendship for a minute, but also because I never expected to be a middle-aged divorced dad pining like an awkward teenager again and it really threw me off. And pining for someone like you, so smart and sophisticated and full of irony and Britishness and YES, I know you wrote a very complimentary book about me, but, that was me as a coach, not me the goofy American with panic attacks and a terrible history of viral dance videos, who had never dated a man before or even known he wanted to–and I’m babbling now. Because I’m feeling happy.
Sorry, I think–actually I think I’ve been feeling pretty down since leaving everyone behind, and it’s amazing being here for Henry and I wouldn’t trade it, but I’ve sort of started to think maybe I don’t really fit here anymore other than with him and maybe I’ve been feeling a little sorry for myself and this kinda woke me up to it. It’s not all that easy seeing Michelle all the time. I forgot or maybe stopped believing there was much hope for that part of my life, just–too late, you know, and, maybe I’m just a failure in the romance department–couldn’t fix things for Michelle and god knows how hard I tried, so what does that say about me, and. Babbling. Again. This time about my ex. Smooth move, huh?
Smile a little? For me?
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 18, 2022, 10:31 p.m. GMT
Subject: re: Vampires
Dear Ted,
You point out that I am full of irony and “Britishness,” but I’m quite sure that my ability to be ironic has gone overnight. Grinning, yes–and sometimes staring into space, and then laughing. I’m afraid idiot is exactly the right word. I’m relieved, too, because I thought I was going crazy. I thought I understood the look on your face, the set of your shoulders, but I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Suffice it to say, being two thousand miles apart is indeed a bummer . If you were here, I would—well, I’d like to hear you babble. I’d like to see you blush, too. I’d like to see you, full stop.
Especially because Kansas is not what you were hoping it would be. I thought I saw that coming through in your messages, but I was hoping it would resolve itself for you. I find myself angry on your behalf, because if anyone deserves a warm and rousing homecoming it’s you. I know how much you missed the place, even when you were in Richmond with us. Or maybe it was just Henry that you missed, after all. I do like the idea of you manning a bake sale, though. I can just imagine you holding court, icing on your collar, raising thousands of dollars for a field trip to the zoo.
Where do children go on field trips in Wichita, anyway? I really don’t know anything about Kansas or its local landmarks. In fact, as I’m reflecting on it, I don’t know much about your life in Kansas at all. Where are you living? Do you have friends you can see when Henry is with Michelle? Joint custody is hell. Bea has been with her mother for about 12 hours and I’m already cleaning my baseboards just to pass the time.
You aren’t a failure in any department, Ted. And it’s not too late for you. I hope you know that. I don’t know the details, but the way Michelle pulled away is not a reflection on your worthiness. If you saw the look on my face every time I find you in my inbox, you would know that for sure.
Smiles abound,
T
From: [email protected]
Date: August 18, 2022, 9:30 PM CDT
Subject: re: Vampires
Trent,
Wish I could see that grin.
Since you asked, Kansas is different than I’d hoped, yes. I have a bunch of friends here, but I’ve realized that none of them know me the way people in London did. I put on a good face in Kansas, before…oh, you know, the divorce, the panic attacks, the therapy etc. etc. etc. The Great Bisexual Awakening. They all expect cheerful, easygoing Ted. Of course no one at the club would accuse me of being mopey or high-strung, but. You all saw the other side of me too, and you still stuck around.
I’m living in a condo. Got a bedroom for Henry we painted blue, it’s got a nice yard, convenient location. Plenty to do in Wichita–museums, trails, some decent restaurants. I’ll go to the football games at the university when it starts up again this fall. Oh, I’m sure you can tell I’m in a bit of a funk about things right now. Except, of course, the reason I came back, which is worth any amount of funk. Getting to see Henry every week, getting to coach his soccer team, to be on the PTA–you’re a parent, Trent, I don’t have to tell you what that means.
How’s Bea doing, by the way? Tell her I say hi. If I could, I’d send her some biscuits. I’d send you both some biscuits. I’d bake you a whole bakery’s worth.
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 20, 2022, 12:15 AM GMT
Subject: First day
Dear Ted,
As you probably know, today was the first day of training for the new football season down at Nelson Road. I wasn’t there, because I’m neither a reporter on assignment or a long-form journalist on selfgiven assignment, so that was werid. But of course there was a party afterwards, and Rebecca invited me, which was kind of her. I don’t think she was like that before you give here, but I can’t really remember if i’m honest.
Anyway, I’m just getting home and I rmembered I didn’t answer your email. I should have, because it made me happy and sad. Every emai lI get from you makes me happy, if I’m honest, although I shouldn’t say that. But it’s clear to me that Kansas is lonely for you, and that feels stupid because of how many people here love you. I shouldn’t say that either for a couple of reasons
You were talked about, of course, and glowingly. The believe sign is still taped up and taped together over the door to the office. Jamie gave a rather moving, if scatterbrained, speech to the team, and Roy’s exact words were, “Last year will be statistically difficult to match.” Very rousing, that one. Beard will do a lovely job, they all will, but your absence was felt. Rebecca asked me if I’d spoken to you recently and I didn’t know what to say, because i’ve been pouring my heart out to him in saccharine emails that started with that asinine chain email didn’t seem quite right. I wanted to say it, and I don’t. I ought to ask you about this when I’m sober, and well now it seems increasingly obvious that this is a first draft that I’ll look at in the morning before I send it. Get it out on the front page. What was it that Hemingway said? Write drunk, send email sober, I believe that’s the ticket.
Hmm what else.
I miss you. I think often about kissing you (alright more than that), and how I never got to. I am terribly worried that you’re depressed, perhaps severely, and that if I raise it to you, you’ll deny it. maybe hate me for it. God, Trent. Don’t contemplate that now. I’ve done enough to make you hate me before, and I need to make this chance count for all the reasons rtc &tc. I think sometimes if I could touch you that every small problem that plagues me–and you–would evaporate, and that kind of thinking is very dangerous to me. Not to mention idiotic.
TK Got to get up the courage to talk about it. Can allude to this in a more subtle feeler way when I come back to it. Mention curiosity about condos. Reassure about his less cheerful side, how much it pleases me. Forgot to mention Bea at all, add B paragraph. Find a way to flirt politely. Dry out first.
From: [email protected]
Date: August 20, 2022, 9:29 AM GMT
Subject: Read This First
Ted,
I can only hope that you did not read my email before you went to bed last night, and that it remains unread now when you wake up. I am–mortified is not strong enough a word. I cannot apologize enough. It probably doesn’t need to be said, but pressing send was an accident of the highest order. Please forget everything I said.
Trent
From: [email protected]
Date: August 20, 2022, 12:05 PM CDT
Subject: re: Read This First
Trent,
As it so happens I was out late last night, getting drinks with an old college friend a couple towns over, so I didn’t get your email, either of your emails, till this morning. I Read This First, as instructed.
Hell, Trent, I am trying really hard to respect your wishes here. I didn’t read the earlier email. But now I’ve been biting my nails down to the quick for the last couple hours, working myself up about what you could have written that was so bad I’m not allowed to read it.
Did you tell me my insistence upon being a downer despite getting what I want is too much? That I made my choice, and I ought to stop whining about it? If I didn’t think you too kind to say such a thing straight out, that’s what I’d think—and you’d be well within your rights to say it.
Trent, I shouldn’t have told you about my feelings for you. I’m here, and you’re there, and that’s because of my decision to move back to Kansas. It’s not fair to play with your emotions like that. What did I think was going to happen? Now I’ve upset you, and whatever it is you wrote to me, I’m sure I deserved it. If your email was a not-so-gentle letdown, well, fair enough. If it was a confession that you met someone, that it was your first night together—I don’t know, Trent, my head is spinning all sorts of things—if it was, I hope you’re happy. I really want you to be happy. That seems easier without me sticking my nose into your life.
I’m sorry. Hope we can chat again someday.
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 21, 2022, 7:01 AM GMT
Subject: re: Read This First
Ted,
I feel quite the urge to insist that you call me immediately, but with both of us sheer emotional disasters (it’s an endearment, my dear), I fear that you would hear something ominous in it. Not to mention that I’ve grown very fond of emailing with you. It feels natural now, and I can’t abandon it yet.
It made me… terribly sad to read your email, Ted, and I can feel your sadness in it. I am now going to have to do something a bit terrifying myself. Go read the other email, the one I sent by mistake. Then come back to this one.
There–are you back? You can see now, why I didn’t want you to read it. I was drunk, and maudlin, and incoherent, and it became more a writer’s note to self than anything by the end, but I hope my feelings for you are clearer now. To answer your question, you are not being a downer, and you are not too much. I am grateful every day that you told me what you told me, and god damn you, man, for making me write about my feelings in plain English, but good lord, Ted, no I am not letting you down easy. I want you more than I can express, in good moods and bad. Please do not doubt that fact. Please try to stop thinking. I don’t know what we’ll do about our feelings for each other in two different places, but I am not going to be easily put off by a drunken gaffe (mine) or a bout of anxiety (yours, and probably also mine).
Lastly, please call me. I need to hear your voice. I need to be indiscreet with you in a way that leads no paper trail.
04376 877 546
T
From: [email protected]
Date: August 21, 2022, 8:47 PM
Subject: you’re asleep
Dear Trent,
I’m sure we talked enough on the phone, I’m sure it has to have been enough–three hours and four minutes, by any standard, must be enough–but now you’re asleep and I still want to be talking to you.
When I was fourteen, I had a crush on Cindy Richardson. She was the new girl. She was in my math class and my World History class. Every day, I looked forward to seeing her. She talked a lot in class–not in a troublesome way, a smart way, and I was intimidated. But I wasn’t one to let that stop me. I passed her notes. I left a bouquet of flowers in her locker. She thought I was cute, thankfully, not a creepy stalker. When we paired up on a project (about Genghis Khan, I believe) we exchanged phone numbers.
I used to talk to her on the phone till my mom yelled at me to get off–only one phone line in the house, of course, and I was tying it up. The phone was in the kitchen and to get a little privacy I’d pull the cord into the pantry with me and close the door. Sit on the floor surrounded by potatoes and onions and boxes of crackers and we’d just talk and talk. And that feeling, in my chest, this–warmth, this–oh, you’re the wordsmith, not me. But there was something–big happening. Something…new? It felt like there were new things in the world. And I could have them. If I was good enough, daring enough, I could maybe have them.
I was fourteen again today, Trent. I swear. Everyone I dated as an adult, we went out to dinner and we kissed on the second date. (Yup. Someone told me that was the rule and I stuck to it.) But with Cindy, we talked on the phone for weeks, maybe months? before we kissed. I wanted to kiss her! I just got nervous and it was easier to say things when I was alone in the pantry.
There’s something shy about me now, Trent, I guess since we’re so far away from each other, or because this is all so new for me, or because you’re just about as intimidatingly smart as Cindy Richardson. I’m older though. All I said on the phone was that i wanted to kiss you and that was hard enough to say aloud but…I do ALSO want to tell you, in great detail, all the things I would like to try with you if you were here. That I hope to try with you (if I may say so!)
I feel like I’m 14 in some ways but been around the block a lot more in others and that’s kinda nice, you know? Excited and nervous but no zits and I know how to french kiss. Maybe more people should try getting divorced from their college sweethearts with whom they’ve had a child and then discover they’re bisexual and fall for someone after they’ve moved an ocean apart.
If only I could sit with you in the cafeteria! I’d give you some of my diet pepsi and doritos. (; tell me what you have for breakfast. tell me where you go. what you do. tell me what you’re wearing. then I can pretend I’m there with you.
allllllll right enough from me. hope you’re sleeping well.
⚽️ 📰 Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 23, 2022, 7:01 AM GMT
Subject: re: Read This First
Dear Ted,
I forgot to answer your text, first of all, so, as is probably clear right now, I can’t usually talk on Friday evenings because it’s my first night back with Bea after a week apart, and she’s very clingy. This ruins my primary intention of clinging to you over an international phone call, har har. I know we’ve been playing phone tag, as my mother calls it, for a few days, and I hope you don’t think there is any reluctance on my part to speak on the phone again. It’s simply that by the time you’re off work, I am often asleep, or last-minute editing–well, I said all this in my text. I’m sure you understand.
I miss your voice, but this email is a nice substitute. I still get a foolishly intense spike of joy when I see a message from you in my inbox. At the beginning–Christ, I shouldn’t confess this, even now, but you told me about Cindy Richardson–at the beginning, which was only weeks ago, somehow, I used to refresh my email app 20 times a day, hoping to see your name.
The thought of your wooing Cindy as a teenager is unbearably sweet. Even sweeter, the thought of you being shy with me. I would have said only recently that you weren’t capable of it, but now I know better. You don’t need to be, obviously. I would like to think that i know you well already, through good and hard times, quiet and loud. But, well. Yes, there are things we haven’t talked about, things we would like to do. Lord, Ted, don’t tempt me. I could tell you now all the things I think about doing–sometimes in the shower–the ways I want to touch you. They might make you blush, or blanch. The former is nice, but the latter I’d like to avoid. I’ll stick with this: I want your hands in my hair, and mine in yours.
Here I am, having written this long torrid message and I haven’t answered any of your questions. Let’s fix that now.
- This morning for breakfast Bea and I had weetabix with banana and yoghurt. She had watered down apple juice, I had coffee. My Nespresso machine is on its last legs, now that I think of it.
- I took Bea to her creche and then went to my new office, at the sport web magazine I told you about on the phone. Everyone is a bit laddish, but kind. I’m not sure yet what I think. After work, I went to Waitrose and picked up some salmon (me) and fish fingers (B), and then to my mum’s to pick up the girl. Are you riveted by this accounting, yet? Unputdownable, they’re calling my email.
- At the moment I’m wearing mostly what I wore to work: cotton trousers and button-down shirt, ugly house slides on my feet. There, are you titillated? I can’t imagine what I would be wearing that you want to dream about. My cardigans and rainbow bracelet? Lingerie? Do tell me more. (And, if I may be indiscreet, describe your own coach polos in detail, please.)
Perhaps we might talk on the phone tomorrow, anytime but 1-3 my time, when I’ll be with B at gymnastics, and between 6 and 8, which is dinner-bath-bedtime. When we speak, maybe you can tell me why you were drinking diet pepsi as a 14 year old boy, and what you’re wearing, and where you’ve gone and what you’ve done, and what you’re thinking, and and and
I’m hoping you’re sleeping well too, right now as I type.
T
From: [email protected]
Date: August 25, 2022, 8:47 PM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Trent,
pash
[ pash ]
noun, Slang.
an infatuation for another person; crush .
blanch
[ blanch, blahnch ]
verb (used with object)
- to make pale, as with sickness or fear
crèche
[ kresh, kreysh; French kresh ]
noun, Plural crèch·es [kresh, -iz, krey, -shiz, k, r, esh].
- British. a day-care center; day nursery.
I’m learning so much from you already.
The only reason I’d blanch (verb) is if I discovered you were using an alternate definition for creche (noun) in that sentence, i.e. taking Bea to a “home for foundlings.” I have quite a pash (noun) on you too, so anything you’d like to share about your shower daydreams would turn me pink instead of pale.
I know we text and talk now, but I’m loath (adjective: unwilling; reluctant; disinclined; averse) to stop emailing. (I learned that one from Rebecca, early on, in a much less pleasant context than this one.) You’re so charming over email, Trent, and I do enjoy poking fun at you.
I would love to eat some salmon with you while you sit there in your cardigan and rainbow bracelet. I like your cardigans. Naturally I would wear my navy blue polo, the top button unbuttoned(!!), and my best khaki slacks. If I’m feeling spicy…maybe even a track jacket I could remove seductively halfway through the meal. I know, I know, we’re two middle-aged dads who practically wear cartoon character uniforms, but still, it’s nice to think of you. Also: your hair. I’ve been wanting to get my hands in your hair for ages. You can’t pretend your hair is boring and normal, Trent, I won’t stand for that level of false modesty. It stretches credulity to imagine you don’t know how that silver streak makes you look.
Gosh. Do you remember when you met my mom? She loved your hair. I can’t believe you’ve already met my mom.
Oh, I meant to say–don’t worry about your busy schedule; obviously I want to talk to you all the time, but I understand. Henry starts school on the 29th, so I may be a bit busier with bake sales and pickups and dropoffs and the like. Not to mention the soccer tournament weekends and the homework help and the birthday parties.
I can’t wait.
I’m feeling optimistic about your sports magazine. I don’t see how they wouldn’t see how valuable you are, and as someone who’s spent quite a lot of time around lads, you know I know the unexplored depths of many a rugged athletic type. You just gotta do some excavation.
Okay, gonna catch up on The Voice and then hit the hay. Hope you have a wonderful day.
-Ted
P.S. Diet Pepsi was my mom’s drink of choice, so it was all we had in the house. Lowfat trends of the 80s, huh? Also, Diet Pepsi has this mysterious sort of tang to it…a strange aftertaste…like maybe you’re drinking something that’s not quite meant to be drunk. Very addictive.
From: [email protected]
Date: August 26, 2022, 8:14 PM GMT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Dear Ted,
Zit
Noun. A pimple, a spot.
Downer
Noun, informal. an event or experience that makes you unhappy
Hit the hay
Idiom , informal. to go to bed in order to sleep
Clearly you have taught me a lot too over the last few weeks (how is it only weeks?) Of course if I were to make a full catalogue of your new-to-me phrases, I could fill a dictionary. Sometimes I’m convinced that people in Kansas don’t really speak this way as a rule, and it’s your particular charm (and our British gullibility) that brings it to the surface. In any case, I like it. I always have.
It’s that last phrase I find particularly evocative at the moment. Hit the hay. I think I’ve determined that one and a half glasses of white wine from the corner store is the right amount to write you back with if I want to be a bit cheeky. Should I define that too? Since my vocabulary is so amusing and peculiar to you, I ought to speak in plainer terms. I want to be a bit flirty, a bit dirty, a bit adult . I want to imagine the things we’d do together if you were here. Tell me if I’m getting to be too much. And please tell me you don’t read these emails in public.
I do think about showering together. Maybe it’s just because the shower is the main place I get a bit of privacy. If you were here, I’d turn off the overhead light and use the little lamp I keep by the sink. We’d strip down, step in together. I’d lather suds over your shoulders, and I’d have to look up a bit to do it since you’re taller than me. I’d watch your throat work, because you’d like the feeling so much. I’d wash you all over, swipe my flannel over your chest and your arms and your stomach, and tease you for getting hard. You’d be flustered, but you’d get grabby quickly. Squeeze my hip, my arse. You’d brace your hand against the shower wall beside my head and I’d—god, maybe a glass and a half of wine is not enough. I’d touch your cock, I’d suck you if you wanted, I’d let you put your hands in my hair while I did it. Christ, Ted. I wish you were here. The fact that I’ve never seen you naked–never really kissed you–feels like a crime.
I know you’re quite busy with Henry right now, and you said something on the phone about looking for coaching jobs, so I feel selfish even broaching it, but would you be interested in considering a visit sometime soon? There’s a slight chance I could come to you, if Bea is with her mum, although I’d have to clear that with my new job and I’m not quite sure how that works yet. Maybe you’re feeling busy engrossing yourself in your new life and don’t want to be pulled back into your old one. I would understand. But the thought of seeing you is too good—I couldn’t not ask.
Have a full sugar Pepsi for me,
T
From: [email protected]
Date: August 28, 2022, 9:33 PM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Trent,
Wow! No, I definitely don’t read these emails in public. Won’t. Anymore, I mean. Gosh. That was..effective. You’re good at this.
I know I said I wanted to tell you things too, I just–maybe you’re right, wine its the way. It’s hard! NOT A PUN. Sorry. It–I was, I mean…when I read…
Do I have any wine in the house?
No. I do not.
Yes, the shower thing sounds good. I would like to do that with you. I would…reciprocate, you know. Ugh, I’m not actually fourteen. I’d suck you too. Is what I mean. I think I’d like it. I have thought about it. Quite a bit.
Sorry, I’m just not…I’ll get there eventually! Finding myself flustered. I wish I were more–confident, for you. Experienced. I think I’m–it’s not that I’m unsure, don’t think that, please, I know I want it, it’s just–quite a lot, when I think about it being real. Do you…no, this is old hat for you of course. Of course it is.
I would like to suck your cock. There.
Hopefully you are also not reading these in public. Presumably you wait till Bea’s in bed, or with her mom. Though that can always be tricky anyway! I remember one night, Henry was six or seven and he’d had a bad dream, and Michelle and I were, well…you know, quite naked, and he just walked right in. He knew he was supposed to knock, but, get this, in his dream knocking summoned a horrible ghost or demon or something and so he was too scared to knock. He just stood outside the door (I think for a few minutes, poor guy) and then burst right in. Luckily there were blankets handy but…anyway, you never know with kids in the house, do you!
Henry starts school tomorrow! He’s with his mom tonight, but I’m going to go over there in the morning, snap a few photos. Missed the last few, so it feels good I can be there. Hope all is well withyou and Bea.
-Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: August 29, 2022, 6:04 PM GMT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Ted,
I don’t know whether to be pleased or consternated that my message seems to have flustered you so much. On one hand, I do like the image of you blushing–maybe squirming–reading the email and trying to think of a way to reply. On the other, I have a nagging voice in my head that says I’m pushing you too far, too fast. I never want to make you feel uncomfortable or disrespected, and I know all of this is new for you–I can’t always read your replies accurately, I think. I can’t read your real tone. I don’t know if that’s a problem distinct to email, but somehow I suspect it isn’t.
All this to say, we can stop the sex talk if you prefer. I’m sorry I rushed you. Maybe if we see each other in person sometime, we could… explore more, without having the difficult task of writing it down in words. I was trying to make it easier on you, but I can see I didn’t quite manage it. I don’t know if you just can’t fathom the idea of coming back right now, or if there’s something else going on.
How was Henry’s first day of school? You’re going to have to help me understand the American middle school system–he’s in something like 9th grade, is that what it’s called? I’m happy you can be there with him.
Bea is very well. As I speak, she’s sitting at the coffee table, writing down the numbers from 1-10 in purple crayon. At least half the numbers are making it onto the paper. A brilliant girl, my Bea.
With affection,
T
From: [email protected]
Date: August 30, 2022, 10:34 AM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Sorry I missed your call yesterday evening–ended up staying and having first-day-of-school dinner with Henry at Michelle’s, with Jake there as well. Wish I felt less awkward about it but it’s a bit of an odd position to be in even if she insists it isn’t.
Henry’s starting seventh grade, which is right in the middle of middle school. Going to ninth grade is going to high school, which is a big milestone I’m glad we’re not at yet. Already experiencing growing pains, though. I think he was happy to have me there yesterday morning but embarrassed too–he ran off to see his friends as fast as he could. Not unfair of him! I might have gotten a little verklempt and said some sentimental things you’d have lambasted me for in your early articles about my coaching style and no preteen wants to experience that from their parent on the steps of their middle school.
Bea likes to accidentally color on the coffee table, huh? Might want to tape some craft paper down, at least till she’s older. By the way, I know perfectly well she’s reading two years above her grade level and is in fact a very bright girl; she once told me she thinks Minions are “a bit childish” so she’s got your sharp eye for critique, too.
Look, I don’t know, Trent, half of me wants all the filthy shower fantasies you can throw at me, and half of me spends the next hour or so after talking to you or texting or emailing all jittery and wound up. And then I’m dropping Henry off at school and the thought pops into my head, what if Trent could be here too , and that’s just–wow, every part of me wants to delete that immediately, except I guess the one part that wants to be honest with you and show you why it’s so…so much. I thought I’d gotten on such an even keel, leaving London, coming home, so sure of myself and all–well, all patched up, you know? A better man. More sure of myself, my real self. And I could be just–how I always wanted to be, present, really present, like Michelle used to say I wasn’t. And now I’m jumbled up inside and jumping every time my inbox pings. And I want–I just thought it would be different. I’m still trying to settle here. I’m trying to make this work. If I leave now…I don’t know, Trent.
I’m getting maudlin and self-absorbed. A real Debbie Downer, as my Aunt Ida would say. Sorry. If you’re trying to read my tone, it’s that of a man who wishes he’d managed a few more therapy sessions before returning to the U.S. and having to have dinner with his ex-marriage counselor, who is dating his ex-wife, while trying not to wonder if she has ever suspected he’s bisexual. And then going to bed after one too many glasses of whiskey and having absolutely torrid dreams involving a shower with a certain ex-reporter. (The shower was very luxurious but weirdly on an airplane?) A mess, Trent, that’s what I mean, that’s my tone and my vibe and me, generally, and why try to hide it from you? I remember how you became an ex-reporter and I’m sure you do too.
Don’t show that to Bea.
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: September 1, 2022, 7:21 PM GMT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Dear Ted,
Apologies for my late reply. Things have been hectic here.
And I haven’t quite known how to parse your message. I understand that you’re conflicted, and overwhelmed, and I shouldn’t mind. God, i wish I could be the sort of person who doesn’t mind. Instead I find myself embarrassed and not a little upset that you won’t consider the idea of seeing each other in person. Already we can hardly find the time to talk on the phone, and perhaps you’re content with that, but I am a demanding, needy queen, apparently, and it just doesn’t seem like a strong start.
Why did you encourage me to talk dirty if the idea upsets you so much? I didn’t have to do that.
T
From: [email protected]
Date: September 2, 2022, 6:15 PM GMT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
Ted,
I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair. I’m just horribly afraid this is all going to dissolve in the air. I don’t know what to do.
T
From: [email protected]
Date: September 2, 2022, 9:04 PM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
You’re not demanding. It’s reasonable for you to want more.
From: [email protected]
Date: September 2, 2022, 9:30 PM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
You know, though, that wasn’t a very kind email. I’ve never called you demanding and I don’t really see how you can get that I’m content from my emails. If you think i’m fine with how everything is shaking out you really are bad at ““parsing”” what I say.
From: [email protected]
Date: September 2, 2022, 9:42 PM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
And another thing–all I am doing is trying to be honest with you about how I feel. about how much I want you, and how terrified I am of it, and how I am afraid that if I go to London and see you now I will never want to come back to Kansas again. My son lives here and I can’t put what I want above what he wants. That’s what my dad did and I assumed you would understand why I can’t do the same.
From: [email protected]
Date: September 3, 2022, 1:06 AM CDT
Subject: re: you’re asleep
and I’m not upset by you talking dirty, I’ve just never sexted. okay? I’ve never sexted, trent, is that what you want to hear? I am a dad from the midwest who has never written so much as a dirty letter to someone and I got embarrassed.
From: [email protected]
Date: September 3, 2022, 12:24 PM GMT
Subject: I’m sorry
Dear Ted,
We really are a pair of fools, you know that? We should have learned by now that email is a terrible mode of communication for us–that we’ll assume the worst of ourselves and each other. And yet I keep writing to you, letting all the fear and resentment show and none of the understanding.
God, I’ve been so stupid. And I’m sorry.
I’ll explain why, I’ll make the apology better in a moment, but first I have to explain a little bit.
I first told Steph that I might like men (I might like men too , I said at that time) about ten years ago, and I don’t think she ever looked at me the same way again. I don’t think she was bigoted, or even biphobic in general, but she’d never thought that her husband, etc etc etc. I was something less than a man in her eyes from then on. And then, the more I realized that I had been lying to myself, that I could probably only be fully satisfied with a man, it seemed that I was only confirming this sense of betrayal that she’d felt from the beginning. In the end, she seemed more disappointed than heartbroken, and in some stupid, selfish way, that hurt too. I certainly felt heartbroken by the whole mess, by breaking up Bea’s family, leaving our lovely little house, all of it.
I was in my first relationship with a man the first year you were in Richmond. Bea used to spend her whole week at my flat crying for her mum, and I just felt like shit all the time. That man was patient, or so I thought, and after six months he told me that I wasn’t ready for an “adult gay relationship, and maybe not for any relationship,” and then he blocked my phone number.
Maybe that helps explain a few things–first, my rude behavior to you when we first met. A few messages up, you said that I “lambasted” you in my early articles, and that’s entirely fair. I was vicious and backstabbing, and I think I revelled in it. I’ll become the kind of slimy, drama-prone queer they’re expecting, I thought, and of course it was largely from you that I learned another way to be.
And yet, all this time later, I’ve found myself assuming the worst of you, and suspiciously rereading your messages, looking for clues that you aren’t really in this. I’m ashamed of it, but you have to understand, Ted, that really I’ve more often been left than I’ve been the leaver. So when you left Richmond, and every time you dodge a question in an email, I’ve been afraid–. Well. You know. When you said you wanted to delete the thought that I could be there with you, that hurt me. I jumped to conclusions. I FELT demanding, even though you never said so.
Now, though. After your more recent messages, I understand what you were saying in a different light. I don’t know the whole story of what your father did, or exactly what Kansas means to you, but now I do know that it was how much you want me, and not how little –you have to believe me, Ted, I truly thought it was the opposite. And now I’ve hurt you too, and pressured you to change your life radically when you’re already in a season of great upheaval, and I know how that feels, and I’m so sorry.
The horrible truth is that I love you, and I’ll do anything to see you happy. Even if you never come to London. We’ll figure something out, we have to, because Christ, I’m terrified too by how much I want you. But more than that, I want you–and Henry too–to get everything you want.
With hopeless affection (and contrition),
Trent
From: [email protected]
Date: September 3, 2022, 8:00 AM CDT
Subject: new email thread because all the past ones are cursed
Oh, Trent. Yep, you said it, we are a pair of fools. I didn’t know all of your history, of course, but I’m sorry. And naturally I thought I was being clear and open and (therapy speak ahead) vulnerable when I wasn’t any such thing. So.
I’m going to call you in a minute, because you might be right, email might be, uh, not our best way of communication, but I did want to write it all down first. So you can read it again, if you’re ever in doubt.
I love you, too, Trent. That’s the problem–or I thought it was. Now that I know you’re in the same boat, and that you’re not actually one thousand times more experienced than I am, and that in fact you only came out fairly recently, and I will FIGHT your ex, by the way, what an idiotic thing to say, not even Roy at his grumpiest would be so downright cruel, and nor would you for that matter, and even when you were not at your kindest I know now you were doing it from (more therapy speak!!) a place of hurt, which makes me wonder if he was too, your ex, so probably what he said was more about him than you when it comes down to it, WOW I’m good at this therapy thing–
but maybe bad at staying on topic. Which is that I want you too. In all the ways. and if it weren’t for Henry, I’d be on a plane right now.
We should see each other. You’re right–it was cowardly of me to avoid it.
What else?
Oh yeah. Just to be clear, I wanted to delete the thought of wanting you there because it was too much (I thought). I thought that was too much for you and it felt too scary for me. Henry’s my kid, and talking about you being there for my kid’s milestones, that’s–that’s clearly clingy behavior. Getting wayyyy too ahead of myself. Or so I thought. And like I said, I’m a coward about you.
Rereading. What did I miss.
Oh. I’m going to tell you about my dad over the phone. It’s a tough story. I actually thought you must already know, but–but I guess why would you know about something that happened when I was a teenager? I guess, Trent, I’ve sort of got this image of you as all-seeing, all-knowing, so I just…didn’t think you wouldn’t immediately understand everything about me and my feelings for you.
Can we do this, do you think? Wait, don’t answer. Let’s talk it over on the phone so we don’t accidentally say anything incredibly stupid again.
Love,
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: September 7, 2022, 7:15 PM GMT
Subject: sunglasses et al
Ted,
I did after all find those sunglasses I was trying to describe. I know the aviators are your signature, and they’re very fetching, don’t get me wrong, but I think you could sport these ones quite nicely.
And I forgot to answer your text—yes, 9 pm tomorrow is fine for me, as long as you can get free to talk then. No, it’s not too late. I’m already planning the Magnum bar and glass of wine I’m going to savor along with you, my dear.
Attached is the scanned version of a drawing Bea insisted upon sending to you. The middle bit is a giraffe heading a football, I believe? You of course are sitting in a palm tree. Don’t ask me why—you now have all the information that I do.
Hope the field trip is smashing. xo
Love,
T
From: [email protected]
Date: September 20, 2022, 9:46 PM CDT
Subject: psssst
You’re asleep right now…and I know Bea is with her mom so your ringer is on…so I can’t text you because I’d wake you up and you’d be cranky with me…but I wanted to tell you I had a very nice time 👀👀 on our video chat today…and I’m still thinking about it…and how you looked when you. you know. and what I would say if I could talk to you now
and the things I’d tell you I’ve done since then because I can’t get you out of my head.
xoxoxo (and more)
Ted
From: [email protected]
Date: September 28, 2022, 1:19 PM GMT
Subject: link as promised
As promised, here’s the link to my first full-length feature at the magazine. They ended up leaving in more of the bits about Reed’s identity and childhood than I expected, which was a nice surprise. I am, of course, a nervous wreck, so don’t tell me if it’s saccharine and over-personal. Or at least don’t tell me until tomorrow, when I can hear your voice and see your face. Friday was… memorable. I can’t stop thinking about your voice . You underestimate your powers, I think.
I have Bea an extra night, but I hope you’ll give me another demonstration tomorrow.
xo
From: [email protected]
Date: October 1, 2022, 7:00 AM CDT
Subject: happy halloween!!!
___
___)__|_
.-*' '*-,
/ /| |\ \
; /_| |_\ ;
; |\ /| ;
; | ''--...--'' | ;
\ ''---.....--'' /
''*-.,_______,.-*'
From: [email protected]
Date: October 2, 2022, 7:48 PM GMT
Subject: re: happy halloween!!!
Should I take it as a significant step in our relationship that these ridiculous emoji… emoticon… whatever figurines are now coming to me alone?
B has already been talking about Halloween costumes, by the way. I blame you for putting the idea in her head. And where will you be when I’m shampooing the glitter spray out of her hair?
xo
From: [email protected]
Date: October 20, 2022, 8:22 PM CDT
Subject: fwd: Expedia flight purchase confirmation - London, U.K. (LHR Heathrow) - Oct 29
Wichita to London
Saturday, October 29
2:31pm - 7:20am (10h 49m, 1 stop)
Departing at 2:31pm, Arriving at 7:20am. Total duration 10h 49m, 1 stop
American Airlines
London to Wichita
Thursday, November 10
12:15pm - 6:47pm (12h 32m, 1 stop)
Departing at 12:15pm, Arriving at 6:47pm. Total duration 12h 32m, 1 stop
American Airlines
Traveler Details
Theodore Lasso
Price details
1 Adult $961.51
Flight $280.00
Taxes, fees, and charges $681.51
Trip total
Rates are quoted in US dollars $961.51
xo see you soon