I leaned back in my chair, my hands clasped behind my head, contemplating the screen of the computer before me.
One hundred and sixty pages total. Third draft. A year and a half to write and it still sounded empty to me. No matter how hard I tried, the words “the end” on the bottom of that page just did not look right to me.
But what could possibly have been missing? I had written everything practically from the old journal and what hadn’t been in there, I wrote from memory. I had included everything I could remember. I don’t know how I couldn’t have. Once I had started writing, it had all just poured out. I hadn’t realized I had needed to say anything until I had started saying it.
True, some parts were harder than others. But I felt I had done a satisfactory job handling them.
And still there was something missing. Something in the story that still needed to be said. But I could not figure out...
I picked up the picture laying on the desk next to me, the very one that had started everything in the first place. I turned it over in my hands, reflecting on the image of Taylor embracing me on our last day together in New York before he returned to Oklahoma. I smiled a little bit at it. That scene had taken me three different tries before I felt I had my emotions and observations right. I had felt a lot that day, saying good-bye to him for the first time since we had met, though not as much as I would feel saying good-bye to him for the last time in the airport in Oklahoma. It wasn’t forever then. I would see him again in a few weeks in his home state, where my life would truly change. Where I would find out just how much his life had changed as well.
Oh. Duh. That was what was missing.
I opened the drawer to my desk and began to rummage through it for the most recent Christmas card he had sent me, a few months before. The note on the inside of the card gave his current address and phone number. Still in Tulsa, though I knew he spent a lot of time in Los Angeles as well.
But the note said he wouldn’t be there again until the middle of summer.
So I began my letter to the Tulsa address:
Dear Taylor,
So I was writing this book (stop laughing). My daughter gave me the idea when we were putting away the Christmas decorations last year and she found the journal I had kept when I was staying in Tulsa as well as the old picture of us at Darien Lake. She asked me who you were and I told her everything. Then I went to the computer and told it everything, too.
In short, it’s been a year and a half long journey through three rather pain-stakingly different versions of the story. It’s not quite the tell-all I kept threatening you with--the names are changed and everything (how do you feel about the name Herbert? Just kidding)--but it does go fairly in-depth and stuff. Even so, there was just something missing.
I was wondering if you’d be willing to make this a joint effort? Or even a group effort if you wanted to get Isaac and Zac involved.
What do you think? You’re not going to, like, sue me now that you know I wrote a book about you, are you? Probably not. You’re not like that. I hope anyway. *gulp* Anyway, I could send you what I have before you decide. Thought I’d try.
THE END
October 14, 2000
"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." --The Beatles, "The End"
A Few Last Words
Index