You've got m@il (part 2)
Grace Van Pelt-Rigsby was a woman on a mission- but she wasn’t to be hurried. Her plan was perfect; she didn’t even have to think about what she was supposed to do twice. She just needed time to avoid being discovered.
Timing was everything.
First thing first, she set up two non-descriptive e-mail accounts for the site; then, she wrote a profile for Jane, and, following the example of few men on www.perfectpartnerfinder.com, she didn’t put a picture on- and avoided talking about his work in police investigations. She did the same for Lisbon, and, at the bottom of each profile, she wrote a similar explanation, about how they wanted to find a friend first and being accepted for their hearts instead of their look. She kept showing Lisbon the profiles of the guys she found for her friend, even if the number had drastically decreased, and she did the same to Jane.
Couple of weeks after she had put on Jane’s profile, while she was waiting for Lisbon to leave for their weekly lunch, she went to the mentalist claiming she had found the perfect match for him.
“I don’t know, Grace. None of the women you had showed me had… moved me.” He tried to explain, gesticulating a little. Grace looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. She didn’t know how the guy could believe he didn’t have a tell, because that expression? He did it when he was unsure about something, or he didn’t know how to explain himself. Which was rare, but ehy, it still happened every now and then- especially when Lisbon was concerned.
“I think,” she told him, showing him the printed page of the profile she had done for Teresa. “That you’ll agree with me that this time it will be different.” She actually chuckled, and Jane was tempted to run away. He felt like a grinning Grace was never a good sign. She had learnt far too much from him during her years at the CBI.
Jane took, carefully, the sheet of paper between two fingers, and he examined it with great attention; the information was enough, and what hit him was just how “normal” this woman was. This “May Flower 39” wasn’t a woman looking for husband number six, easy sex or whatever. She simply was a grown-up woman, almost in her forties, that, because of the long hours of her job, struggled to find someone to share her life with. It was a strange thing to say, but, even if he didn’t have the minimal idea of how she could look like, he thought she was incredibly attractive just for her “soul” alone.
“Uhm, nice.” Grace said, crossing her arms and looking at him, with a victorious gleam in her eyes. “You know Jane, you can say it. I’m pretty sure that the world will not end just because you’ll admit that I was right.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Grace dear….” Jane sing-sang, his eyes fixed on the words written in black ink right before his eyes. He didn’t care about how this woman could look like. He wanted to know her. Even just being friends could be enough. He just felt like he could do with her in his life- especially now that Lisbon was slowly drifting away from him.
“She just seems to need a friend. Someone to talk to, you know.” Grace shrugged, but Jane wasn’t even listening to her. He kept reading, and reading, and reading, like the words could change, or like he could cold-read May Flower 39 just looking at the page. Grace shivered for a sec, but then she quickly came back to her senses. There was no way that he could understand she had been the one to write it and that the main character of his new, imaginative romance was Lisbon.
“Ok, you know what? I think I’ll leave you to…. This.” She turned on her heels, and went to the elevator, where Teresa was waiting for her.
“Is it all right between you and Jane?” Lisbon asked, a bit worried. Teresa was really a saint. She always worried-too much. It was right about time someone took care of her.
“Yeah.” Grace chuckled, laughing behind her teeth, ready to lie as never before. “Last week he came to dinner and he made a comment I didn’t appreciated too much, so I kind of decided to get a little bit of revenge.” Lisbon looked at her with appreciation. She always liked when people tried to pull one on Jane. The man was too egoistical, egomaniac and vain. “I showed him an article about a mentalist that announced being psychic just to make him mad.”
Lisbon chuckled. It wasn’t the worst thing that she had seen, but when people tried to convince Jane that he had powers, he always got mad in a funny way. Sometimes he was even a bit ridiculous.
“So… speaking of serious business…” Grace carefully took from her purse another piece of paper, folded in four, and she gave it to Lisbon. “I think you’ll come to like Alexanderson 44.” Teresa took the piece of paper, and read it with appreciation. The guy-for once- sounded all right. Or at least, normal-not that any of the guys Grace had introduced her to had seemed so off at first glance. Besides, he was using as a screen name his surname, so he was quite… plain. Who knew. Maybe she could like him, maybe even fall for him at some degree.
“I’ll think about it” Teresa said, trying, and failing , at sounding casual. Grace smirked, and Lisbon wondered if the redhead knew she was already thinking about what she was supposed to e-mail to a guy she had never met before and she would like to befriend; behind Grace’s back, she took her Blackberry, and wrote a message (the first thing that came to mind, and half a minute later, she was already regretting each and every word she had sent) for Alexanderson- and less than a minute later, as she was getting more and more anxious by the minute, he answered her, announcing that yes, he didn’t mind getting to know her a little better.
Smiling, she wondered if she had just found a new friend- or maybe, something more. Who knew. Maybe, like many girls and women, Teresa Lisbon would start checking wedding dresses out, imagining how her happiest day could be. But anyway, it wasn’t like she was already trying out his surname with her name. Definitely not. Even if Teresa Alexanderson sounded just marvelously, according to her.So, May Flower and Alexanderson started writing to each other.
They kept it casual; they didn’t talk (too much) about their lives in particular, about their jobs, or even their real names, nor the history behind their screen-names. Teresa thought it was his surname; Jane believed she was some kind of historical expert, or that maybe she was just fixated with the colonies or the Empire. He didn’t care too much, though. She was all right enough to spend some quality time in the evening writing to.
They knew just a couple of things about each other, that both of them had had a friend choosing a suitor for them, and that they lived both in Sacramento. Jane- Alexanderson, actually- had tried to get more information out of her, but at the end, facing the reality of a huge and strong wall of insecurities, he had decided to let it go. For now.
After starting to get to know each other, they were both a bit better, and yet, they weren’t, and Grace was starting to think that her plan could actually end up in disaster. Teresa, for the first time in months, was slowly coming back to be her old self. She wasn’t the shadow of herself any longer, and she had even stopped thinking about the Damocles’ sword hanging over her head- what she presumed was Jane’s departure. She was calm and collected, sure of herself. Sometimes she was grumpy, and then, she got an e-mail and she became another whole person. Sometimes she already arrived at work extremely happy- and in those occasions, she was also a little late.
They guys (with the exception of Grace) thought she was seeing someone (“getting laid” as Wayne had gentlemanly put it), and Jane, a bit sorry and miserable, had to agree. Yes, Lisbon was having regularly good sex; yes, she was seeing someone regularly; yes, she was in a relationship, and no, it wasn’t him her mystery man. But it wasn’t like he actually needed to say it out loud, as his behavior already showed it. He pretended to don’t care. Then, when the team called him on his bluff, he told them he was happy for her, and that it was about time.
But, as soon as they weren’t looking at him, he used to go the attic and wrote to May Flower about how “There is this guy I work with that thinks I am jealous because my boss is in a relationship.” It was actually the truth, but hey. Even if he had to tell someone, he had to find the right words. He was supposed to pursue May Flower, not scare her away because he was moonlighting after an impossible relationship. But May was just that good, and she just got him. She always knew what she was supposed to say and to do, and slowly, Jane became fascinated by the mysterious woman- a puzzle wrapped up in an enigma, as he said once- and with the passing of weeks, and months, their conversations just turned a little bit different. It wasn’t like they weren’t casual any longer- because they still were- but Jane realized that he was feeling with this woman the same familiarity he had once shared with Lisbon, and, before that, with Angela. A bit like they were an old married couple that found comfort in talking about the weather or things like that….
To: May Flower 39
From: Alexanderson 44
Subject: Autumn
I don’t know. Yeah, I love it here, but still, I prefer the Autumn in New York City. I know, I know, it’s a cliché, and I already said that I hate those. But I lived there for a while when I was a teenager, and I remember that every year, when September arrived and I saw the first leaves turning orange, I felt compelled to buy -never tell anyone this- school supplies. This year I feel the same, strangely. You know what? I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened crayons and pencils if I knew your name and address. But, let’s admit it-this not knowing has its charms.
“You all right, Lisbon?” Jane asked as they were driving to a crime scene. They had been at it the whole morning: he would ask her if she wanted to drive, she would say no, and she would spend the whole drive grinning like a lovesick teenager while reading the emails form her boyfriend. It was starting to unnerve him a little bit. It wasn’t like she had to broadcast the whole thing and show the guy around. They- he- had gotten the message. He also had a lady-friend (of sort, at least) but it wasn’t like he spent his whole time talking about her or reading her messages. Ok, maybe he did, but he just spent his whole time reading and reading them again and again and again, and only when he was alone, not in front of the rest of the world.
He had class, him.
“Uhm? I’m sorry, did you say something, Jane?” Jane grunted and felt the need to roll his eyes. She hadn’t even listened to him. God, he didn’t know if he could take it any longer. He was “a tiny bit in love” with her, and did she really had to slap him in the face and rub it just because she was dating?
He sighed. He was starting to feel like May Flower was right. She had told him that maybe he did have some feelings for his boss, and that maybe they run deeper than what he wanted to admit; apparently she had been right. The woman really knew him. Yes, she was his perfect match, the hell with Lisbon and her boyfriend. He would show her what perfect love felt and looked like. Or, who knew, maybe not. After all, what did he really knew about May, besides the fact that she was from Sacramento as well?
They arrived at the crime scene, they did their thing (aka he sniffed the body and made same allegations about the murderer and the victim’s illicit activities, an affair the most innocent crime he was guilty of) and then, after having hidden behind Lisbon’s metaphorical gown for a while (the killer didn’t like being arrested, apparently) he went back to lean against the hood of his Citroen, and took from his jacket pocket his brand new phone - a Blackberry, similar to Lisbon’s, but fancier, newer and more technologically advanced- and he smiled when he noticed that, finally, May had answered to his last mail. It had taken her long enough- something like five hours. But after all, he had gotten the idea that she worked odd hours.
To: Alexanderson 44
From: May Flower 39
Subject: re
I want to tell you a secret: I like to start my e-mails to you as you we are already in the middle of a conversation; I pretend that we are the oldest and dearest friends, as opposed to what we actually are, people who don’t know each other’s names and met in a dating site where both claimed we’d never been before.
As he read the line, Jane kept smiling, and couldn’t help chuckling. Actually, he had understood this about her, and he had agreed with May on every word. He sometimes did the same with her. And it was this sense of familiarity that was convincing him that they should meet and that there was a good chance they would work out on a romantic level.
Every morning, when I go to check my computer or my phone before going into work, I am thrilled. What will he say today, I wonder. I turn on my computer, I wait impatiently, and when I got on-line my breath catches in my chest until I see three little words: you’ve got mail. I hear nothing, not even a sound form the streets of Sacramento, just the beat of my heart.
I’ve got mail. From you.
Jane felt his heart aching for the woman. He felt the same for her- and, he hated to admit it, to a certain degree he felt the same towards Lisbon too. Was it love? Could he actually be in love with two- three if he wanted to count his late wife- women at the same time? He wasn’t certain. Maybe he had enough love for all of them. Maybe it was a different kind of love for each one of them. Maybe he was just confused, now that he didn’t have to concentrate full-time on Red John any longer.
That was another reason he wanted to meet May. He felt like seeing her could give him the answers he craved so much. But May had resisted until that moment. She kept repeating him the rules, about how they were supposed to talk about meaningless things such as books, music (which he didn’t find harmless, not a tiny bit. After all, what was more intimate that a person’s interests?) and their city. They weren’t supposed to talk about anything too personal, that they (she) didn’t want to know their names, their jobs or where exactly they lived.
He was getting kind of sick of this, though. After all, didn’t they meet on a dating site? People who dated used to do that in the flesh. How could they knew if they were going to work, otherwise? But May was stubborn- as only Lisbon had ever been with him- and didn’t want to hear a thing. So, they kept mailing to each other, saying the most ridiculous things, and yet sweet, and sometimes just… unnerving? Could he say that a conversation was unnerving when it just didn’t have any meaning? But, as angry as he was every time she skipped around the bush… he was quite fond of this woman. Maybe he even loved her. And he kept doing this, because, after all, wasn’t it better than nothing?
From: Alexanderson 44
My father? Oh, please. He didn’t set any example. I think he had been married twice by the time I was twelve. And none of them was my mother. And before you could ask me-he divorced all of them. I think he should be in wife number five by now… let’s put it this way, I am from an American Family.
From: May Flower 39
Fun fact: this morning, as I was doing my daily job, a butterfly decided that my hair was the nicest place she could rest on. I think last time it happened it was… when I was around ten?
From: Alexanderson 44
Every night, a truck pulls up to Marie’s and pumps about a ton of flour into the ground silos? The air gets absolutely amazing, the smell of vanilla and your grandmother, and the way the dust of flour dances into the air…
As she read the words, Lisbon smiled, and looked around herself, blushing a bit, biting her lips. Here she was as well- at Marie’s- and wondered if it was fate, or an accident he was talking about the very place she was in. She kept scanning the room, trying to see if there was any man around that was writing on his phone or on a computer.
“Look, look, look…. Agent Lisbon seems rather guilty. Are you cheating on your boyfriend, my dear?” Jane asked, as he sat again at the table after he had gone looking for their missing orders. She just blushed furthermore, and looked everywhere but at him.
“Oh, hush you. You are insufferable.”
From: May Flower 39
I have read Sense and Sensibility… 300 times. No kidding, I just did the math. 12 times a year for the last 15 years. And every time I wonder if Eleanor and Edward will get together. AND it’s not even my favorite book. Whenever I think about books, I think about my childhood readings. Sometimes, even if I don’t have children, even if it’s been so long since I’ve been a child myself… I just grab one of them, and I read, and read and read until I fall asleep. I remember my mother, and my happy place. I could have never left them behind. It’s the only thing I took with me when I left, and turned my back on my old life. It’s just that, I lead such a small life. Ok, maybe not really small, but… circumscribed? I’m not even sure such is the case- I do travel a lot, but… you get it, right? And yet, I wonder, do I have it because I want to, or because I haven’t been brave enough? So much of what I see remembers me of something I read in a book or a movie I have seen, and shouldn’t it be the other way around?
Jane took a big breath when he received the message. He pondered carefully the meaning behind her words. Maybe she had just left her guard down a little, maybe it hadn’t been intentional - she sounded a bit frustrated- but she had never told him so much about herself. Now he knew that she traveled a lot for her job, that she wasn’t born in Sacramento and that she had lost her mother. Her father had probably fallen victim to depression, guilt, alcohol or drug after her death, and she had stayed until the day he had died. He sighed, and put the phone back in his jacket. May was right. He was a bit in love with Lisbon, and as she and this woman were so similar, it was probably why he was attracted to her too. Or at least, he thought so. Knowing without actually knowing had, indeed, its charms. And yet, it was very frustrating.
The icon blinked again after few instants, and without checking, Jane knew already it was her.
I don’t want an answer. I just needed to send this cosmic question out into the void. So… well, goodnight.
Jane reflected. She had written the words in the heat of the moment- his favorite kind of letters- and had regretted it as soon as she had re-read them after she had sent the e-mail. Yeah, May had really had to be pissed off. Maybe it was that subordinate of hers again. He chuckled a little, and his eyes went to Lisbon, again busy checking her e-mail account on her Blackberry- poor woman was obsessed with her job- with line of worries on her forehead. She was probably checking out if the last witnesses had issued a complaint against him. He had to get the two women to meet. They would get along just great, he just knew it. He smiled a little smile, and then, Lisbon’s phone rang. It was the tone she reserved for the big boss in charge. And a call from the big boss in charge was never a good sign.
…And in fact, it wasn’t. Two hours later, as soon as she drove in the CBI Parking lot, Teresa’s phone rang yet again, and she was asked to get back to her office ASAP- and alone. She was tense and worried on their way upstairs, and Jane kept it silent, knowing all too well that even just one world would have been his ruin in such a situation. Like a lost puppy, he looked at her entering in her office- the blinds were closed, another bad sign - and he understood that things were bad when she left just a couple of minutes later. He had just had enough time to go to his couch that she stormed out of her room and threw her badge at him- he suspected she resisted firing her gun at him just because she didn’t want to end up in jail.
“Ehy! Lisbon!” He asked, quite stunned, trying to regain his balance, as she kept hitting him with her badge, kicking at the same time his beloved couch. He opened his eyes and really looked at her. Lisbon wasn’t just mad, she was desperate. She was even crying. And a crying Lisbon was never, ever a good sign.
“One month unpaid suspension, Jane, and I’ll be reinserted on a pending review. Do you know what it means? Uh? It means that you, Golden Boy, get to keep your job, and me….” She closed her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a big breath. “Thanks, Jane. It’s good to know that you still can pull a stunt caring about the results and not the people you leave behind.” And saying so, with such a glacial and calm tone that it almost killed him, she turned on her heels, and left, hands in her pockets, resigned.
He felt bad, for some strange reason- well, worse than usual, at least. He had always pulled stunts like the last one, and he had always avoided informing Lisbon. And Lisbon had always paid for his mistakes. He didn’t like it, of course, but it had never been like that. He wondered if it was because Red John’s death had opened some kind of Pandora’s box. Now he wasn’t with the team any longer just because he “had” to, but because he wanted to. Because… because he cared.
Because he was a tiny bit in love with her, damn it.
He grunted, and opened the e-mail program on his phone. Lately, whenever he felt bad, there was only one thing that could help him out- and it was “talking” with May.
To: May Flower 39
Do you ever feel like you’ve become the worst version of yourself? Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them. Hello, I’m Mr. nasty! But I’m sure you have no idea what I am talking about.
May didn’t answer for over half a day, and Jane was starting to get anxious. Like a little kid, he couldn’t stand still, and checked every minute his phone. It was stupid- and it made the guys question his sanity- because it wasn’t the first time that it happened. After all, May had a life, she wasn’t all the time on her computer- or whatever- checking if he had logged on- as far as he knew, she was an old lady with thousands cats and an army of grandchildren. But this time it was different. He needed… he didn’t know what, if it was advice or just someone to talk to. Lisbon wasn’t there, and she was mad with him, and he didn’t know what to do.
And then, at the end of the day, he finally saw it, the little blinking icon… you’ve got mail.
To: Alexanderson 44
I know what you mean, and I am completely jealous- of you, and of a guy I know who behaves like that. What happens to me when I am provoked is that I get tongue-tied, my mind goes blank and then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to think of what I should have said…
Jane grinned, and, sitting, he started to write his answer. He did it quickly- in the last few months, he had become quite the expert. He was even started to think he was developing “Blackberry thumbs”…
To: May Flower 39
Wouldn’t it be great if I could pass all my zingers to you and I would never behave badly all the time and we both- and our friends and our coworkers- would be happy the whole time? On the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, sometimes remorse- and troubles- follows. Just today, for example. I said what I wanted to say when I wanted to, but I got a friend in troubles because I’ve been too forward with a big head… and yeah, I feel a tiny bit guilty about the whole thing.
Jane waited for a while, not long enough to get an actual answer, but long enough to decide that she was right. Sometimes, you just have to do something when you want to do it. After all, she had sent earlier a mail about herself, without thinking about the consequences. Maybe it was time to follow his instinct again, the hell with his devilish plans. Maybe… maybe he could get it to work. Or simply clear his mind, because he was falling for May, and he was seriously starting to question his sanity, since he wasn’t so sure any longer that loving more than one woman at the same time could be possible.
To: May Flower 39
Do you think we should meet?
She didn’t answered. And right before her screen, Teresa wondered if Alexanderson knew that she had no idea what to do. She didn’t know how to answer. Part of her wanted to meet this man, she wanted to see with her own eyes if he was as good in reality as he was in his mails. He sounded… he wasn’t perfect, just perfect for her. Was it because sometimes he remembered her so much of Jane? She guessed this was part of his charm, AND what scared her. Was she falling- if she hadn’t fallen already- for him because she wanted someone like Jane at her side, and she feared Jane was going to leave sooner or later?
Oh, dear Lord. She didn’t know what to do. And lately, whenever she didn’t know what to do… there was only one thing she could think of- writing to Alexanderson.
To: Alexanderson 44
I always miss a bit my mum, but right now… I really would like to still have her. I’d like to be able to ask her for advice.
To: May Flower 39
I am glad you are on-line. I missed you the past couple of days. Just for the record, I can give you advice. I am great at advice.
To: Alexanderson 44
I don’t think you can help. It’s about … everything. I am a tad confused right now. I am having troubles because of a friend, and my job and… and a lot of other things running through my mind.
To: May Flower 39
I normally would ask you to talk to me in specifics, but I know that you would just point out that we already discussed such a point and agreed to keep our conversations as neutral as possible. Thus, as I can’t give you a specific advice, I will tell you just this: Go to the mattresses.
I think you’ll be looking at the screen right now, wondering what the hell I just said- don’t deny it, I know you are doing just that- so allow me to explain myself. It’s from The Godfather. It means, go to war. And yes. I like the godfather. What’s not to like? It’s the sum of all wisdom. The answer to any question. And the answer to your question is, go to the mattresses. Why? Because you are at war. And you have to remember it. Recite it every time you feel like you are losing your nerves. I know you worry about being brave, so this is your chance to stand up for yourself. Fight. Fight to the death, and clear things with that friend of yours.
Days passed, and May didn’t answer. Jane felt like he had said something that either had had her felt insulted, or she was just too worried about that friend of hers. Maybe he wasn’t just a friend. She had said few words about him, and Jane had gotten the idea she had a crush on the guy. He could almost envision him. He probably was an intern, much younger than her. Not that she was a man eater, but, he didn’t know why, he just had that idea in his mind.
Meanwhile, Lisbon had -finally- returned. She was working under scrutiny, both from an advisor of some sort send by the big bad boss in charge, and both by La Roche’s. The bald man wasn’t worrying Jane too much, though; he had a liking, a sweet, brotherly affection for Teresa, after all. And the fact that he knew she was well aware of his darkest secret helped as well.
But… Lisbon wasn’t Lisbon. She was sweet and controlled, too much. Instead of trying to man up, she was more remissive than ever. And it killed him how she behaved with him. She smiled at him sometimes, but with something he couldn’t identify. Was it longing or regret? Did she wanted for things to change? She seemed unsure and tense. It was worse than when he had first arrived, worse than when he had returned from Vegas, claiming he didn’t remember confessing his love. He was confused. He needed her, her help, her advice, but she avoided him. He needed May, but she wasn’t answering to his messages any longer either.
Until, one day, she did… and she agreed to meet him in person. Finally, he was going to see the light, understand what was going on in his life.
Or maybe… not. Because Jane didn’t know how much May was going to rock his world.
Timing was everything.
First thing first, she set up two non-descriptive e-mail accounts for the site; then, she wrote a profile for Jane, and, following the example of few men on www.perfectpartnerfinder.com, she didn’t put a picture on- and avoided talking about his work in police investigations. She did the same for Lisbon, and, at the bottom of each profile, she wrote a similar explanation, about how they wanted to find a friend first and being accepted for their hearts instead of their look. She kept showing Lisbon the profiles of the guys she found for her friend, even if the number had drastically decreased, and she did the same to Jane.
Couple of weeks after she had put on Jane’s profile, while she was waiting for Lisbon to leave for their weekly lunch, she went to the mentalist claiming she had found the perfect match for him.
“I don’t know, Grace. None of the women you had showed me had… moved me.” He tried to explain, gesticulating a little. Grace looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. She didn’t know how the guy could believe he didn’t have a tell, because that expression? He did it when he was unsure about something, or he didn’t know how to explain himself. Which was rare, but ehy, it still happened every now and then- especially when Lisbon was concerned.
“I think,” she told him, showing him the printed page of the profile she had done for Teresa. “That you’ll agree with me that this time it will be different.” She actually chuckled, and Jane was tempted to run away. He felt like a grinning Grace was never a good sign. She had learnt far too much from him during her years at the CBI.
Jane took, carefully, the sheet of paper between two fingers, and he examined it with great attention; the information was enough, and what hit him was just how “normal” this woman was. This “May Flower 39” wasn’t a woman looking for husband number six, easy sex or whatever. She simply was a grown-up woman, almost in her forties, that, because of the long hours of her job, struggled to find someone to share her life with. It was a strange thing to say, but, even if he didn’t have the minimal idea of how she could look like, he thought she was incredibly attractive just for her “soul” alone.
“Uhm, nice.” Grace said, crossing her arms and looking at him, with a victorious gleam in her eyes. “You know Jane, you can say it. I’m pretty sure that the world will not end just because you’ll admit that I was right.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Grace dear….” Jane sing-sang, his eyes fixed on the words written in black ink right before his eyes. He didn’t care about how this woman could look like. He wanted to know her. Even just being friends could be enough. He just felt like he could do with her in his life- especially now that Lisbon was slowly drifting away from him.
“She just seems to need a friend. Someone to talk to, you know.” Grace shrugged, but Jane wasn’t even listening to her. He kept reading, and reading, and reading, like the words could change, or like he could cold-read May Flower 39 just looking at the page. Grace shivered for a sec, but then she quickly came back to her senses. There was no way that he could understand she had been the one to write it and that the main character of his new, imaginative romance was Lisbon.
“Ok, you know what? I think I’ll leave you to…. This.” She turned on her heels, and went to the elevator, where Teresa was waiting for her.
“Is it all right between you and Jane?” Lisbon asked, a bit worried. Teresa was really a saint. She always worried-too much. It was right about time someone took care of her.
“Yeah.” Grace chuckled, laughing behind her teeth, ready to lie as never before. “Last week he came to dinner and he made a comment I didn’t appreciated too much, so I kind of decided to get a little bit of revenge.” Lisbon looked at her with appreciation. She always liked when people tried to pull one on Jane. The man was too egoistical, egomaniac and vain. “I showed him an article about a mentalist that announced being psychic just to make him mad.”
Lisbon chuckled. It wasn’t the worst thing that she had seen, but when people tried to convince Jane that he had powers, he always got mad in a funny way. Sometimes he was even a bit ridiculous.
“So… speaking of serious business…” Grace carefully took from her purse another piece of paper, folded in four, and she gave it to Lisbon. “I think you’ll come to like Alexanderson 44.” Teresa took the piece of paper, and read it with appreciation. The guy-for once- sounded all right. Or at least, normal-not that any of the guys Grace had introduced her to had seemed so off at first glance. Besides, he was using as a screen name his surname, so he was quite… plain. Who knew. Maybe she could like him, maybe even fall for him at some degree.
“I’ll think about it” Teresa said, trying, and failing , at sounding casual. Grace smirked, and Lisbon wondered if the redhead knew she was already thinking about what she was supposed to e-mail to a guy she had never met before and she would like to befriend; behind Grace’s back, she took her Blackberry, and wrote a message (the first thing that came to mind, and half a minute later, she was already regretting each and every word she had sent) for Alexanderson- and less than a minute later, as she was getting more and more anxious by the minute, he answered her, announcing that yes, he didn’t mind getting to know her a little better.
Smiling, she wondered if she had just found a new friend- or maybe, something more. Who knew. Maybe, like many girls and women, Teresa Lisbon would start checking wedding dresses out, imagining how her happiest day could be. But anyway, it wasn’t like she was already trying out his surname with her name. Definitely not. Even if Teresa Alexanderson sounded just marvelously, according to her.So, May Flower and Alexanderson started writing to each other.
They kept it casual; they didn’t talk (too much) about their lives in particular, about their jobs, or even their real names, nor the history behind their screen-names. Teresa thought it was his surname; Jane believed she was some kind of historical expert, or that maybe she was just fixated with the colonies or the Empire. He didn’t care too much, though. She was all right enough to spend some quality time in the evening writing to.
They knew just a couple of things about each other, that both of them had had a friend choosing a suitor for them, and that they lived both in Sacramento. Jane- Alexanderson, actually- had tried to get more information out of her, but at the end, facing the reality of a huge and strong wall of insecurities, he had decided to let it go. For now.
After starting to get to know each other, they were both a bit better, and yet, they weren’t, and Grace was starting to think that her plan could actually end up in disaster. Teresa, for the first time in months, was slowly coming back to be her old self. She wasn’t the shadow of herself any longer, and she had even stopped thinking about the Damocles’ sword hanging over her head- what she presumed was Jane’s departure. She was calm and collected, sure of herself. Sometimes she was grumpy, and then, she got an e-mail and she became another whole person. Sometimes she already arrived at work extremely happy- and in those occasions, she was also a little late.
They guys (with the exception of Grace) thought she was seeing someone (“getting laid” as Wayne had gentlemanly put it), and Jane, a bit sorry and miserable, had to agree. Yes, Lisbon was having regularly good sex; yes, she was seeing someone regularly; yes, she was in a relationship, and no, it wasn’t him her mystery man. But it wasn’t like he actually needed to say it out loud, as his behavior already showed it. He pretended to don’t care. Then, when the team called him on his bluff, he told them he was happy for her, and that it was about time.
But, as soon as they weren’t looking at him, he used to go the attic and wrote to May Flower about how “There is this guy I work with that thinks I am jealous because my boss is in a relationship.” It was actually the truth, but hey. Even if he had to tell someone, he had to find the right words. He was supposed to pursue May Flower, not scare her away because he was moonlighting after an impossible relationship. But May was just that good, and she just got him. She always knew what she was supposed to say and to do, and slowly, Jane became fascinated by the mysterious woman- a puzzle wrapped up in an enigma, as he said once- and with the passing of weeks, and months, their conversations just turned a little bit different. It wasn’t like they weren’t casual any longer- because they still were- but Jane realized that he was feeling with this woman the same familiarity he had once shared with Lisbon, and, before that, with Angela. A bit like they were an old married couple that found comfort in talking about the weather or things like that….
To: May Flower 39
From: Alexanderson 44
Subject: Autumn
I don’t know. Yeah, I love it here, but still, I prefer the Autumn in New York City. I know, I know, it’s a cliché, and I already said that I hate those. But I lived there for a while when I was a teenager, and I remember that every year, when September arrived and I saw the first leaves turning orange, I felt compelled to buy -never tell anyone this- school supplies. This year I feel the same, strangely. You know what? I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened crayons and pencils if I knew your name and address. But, let’s admit it-this not knowing has its charms.
“You all right, Lisbon?” Jane asked as they were driving to a crime scene. They had been at it the whole morning: he would ask her if she wanted to drive, she would say no, and she would spend the whole drive grinning like a lovesick teenager while reading the emails form her boyfriend. It was starting to unnerve him a little bit. It wasn’t like she had to broadcast the whole thing and show the guy around. They- he- had gotten the message. He also had a lady-friend (of sort, at least) but it wasn’t like he spent his whole time talking about her or reading her messages. Ok, maybe he did, but he just spent his whole time reading and reading them again and again and again, and only when he was alone, not in front of the rest of the world.
He had class, him.
“Uhm? I’m sorry, did you say something, Jane?” Jane grunted and felt the need to roll his eyes. She hadn’t even listened to him. God, he didn’t know if he could take it any longer. He was “a tiny bit in love” with her, and did she really had to slap him in the face and rub it just because she was dating?
He sighed. He was starting to feel like May Flower was right. She had told him that maybe he did have some feelings for his boss, and that maybe they run deeper than what he wanted to admit; apparently she had been right. The woman really knew him. Yes, she was his perfect match, the hell with Lisbon and her boyfriend. He would show her what perfect love felt and looked like. Or, who knew, maybe not. After all, what did he really knew about May, besides the fact that she was from Sacramento as well?
They arrived at the crime scene, they did their thing (aka he sniffed the body and made same allegations about the murderer and the victim’s illicit activities, an affair the most innocent crime he was guilty of) and then, after having hidden behind Lisbon’s metaphorical gown for a while (the killer didn’t like being arrested, apparently) he went back to lean against the hood of his Citroen, and took from his jacket pocket his brand new phone - a Blackberry, similar to Lisbon’s, but fancier, newer and more technologically advanced- and he smiled when he noticed that, finally, May had answered to his last mail. It had taken her long enough- something like five hours. But after all, he had gotten the idea that she worked odd hours.
To: Alexanderson 44
From: May Flower 39
Subject: re
I want to tell you a secret: I like to start my e-mails to you as you we are already in the middle of a conversation; I pretend that we are the oldest and dearest friends, as opposed to what we actually are, people who don’t know each other’s names and met in a dating site where both claimed we’d never been before.
As he read the line, Jane kept smiling, and couldn’t help chuckling. Actually, he had understood this about her, and he had agreed with May on every word. He sometimes did the same with her. And it was this sense of familiarity that was convincing him that they should meet and that there was a good chance they would work out on a romantic level.
Every morning, when I go to check my computer or my phone before going into work, I am thrilled. What will he say today, I wonder. I turn on my computer, I wait impatiently, and when I got on-line my breath catches in my chest until I see three little words: you’ve got mail. I hear nothing, not even a sound form the streets of Sacramento, just the beat of my heart.
I’ve got mail. From you.
Jane felt his heart aching for the woman. He felt the same for her- and, he hated to admit it, to a certain degree he felt the same towards Lisbon too. Was it love? Could he actually be in love with two- three if he wanted to count his late wife- women at the same time? He wasn’t certain. Maybe he had enough love for all of them. Maybe it was a different kind of love for each one of them. Maybe he was just confused, now that he didn’t have to concentrate full-time on Red John any longer.
That was another reason he wanted to meet May. He felt like seeing her could give him the answers he craved so much. But May had resisted until that moment. She kept repeating him the rules, about how they were supposed to talk about meaningless things such as books, music (which he didn’t find harmless, not a tiny bit. After all, what was more intimate that a person’s interests?) and their city. They weren’t supposed to talk about anything too personal, that they (she) didn’t want to know their names, their jobs or where exactly they lived.
He was getting kind of sick of this, though. After all, didn’t they meet on a dating site? People who dated used to do that in the flesh. How could they knew if they were going to work, otherwise? But May was stubborn- as only Lisbon had ever been with him- and didn’t want to hear a thing. So, they kept mailing to each other, saying the most ridiculous things, and yet sweet, and sometimes just… unnerving? Could he say that a conversation was unnerving when it just didn’t have any meaning? But, as angry as he was every time she skipped around the bush… he was quite fond of this woman. Maybe he even loved her. And he kept doing this, because, after all, wasn’t it better than nothing?
From: Alexanderson 44
My father? Oh, please. He didn’t set any example. I think he had been married twice by the time I was twelve. And none of them was my mother. And before you could ask me-he divorced all of them. I think he should be in wife number five by now… let’s put it this way, I am from an American Family.
From: May Flower 39
Fun fact: this morning, as I was doing my daily job, a butterfly decided that my hair was the nicest place she could rest on. I think last time it happened it was… when I was around ten?
From: Alexanderson 44
Every night, a truck pulls up to Marie’s and pumps about a ton of flour into the ground silos? The air gets absolutely amazing, the smell of vanilla and your grandmother, and the way the dust of flour dances into the air…
As she read the words, Lisbon smiled, and looked around herself, blushing a bit, biting her lips. Here she was as well- at Marie’s- and wondered if it was fate, or an accident he was talking about the very place she was in. She kept scanning the room, trying to see if there was any man around that was writing on his phone or on a computer.
“Look, look, look…. Agent Lisbon seems rather guilty. Are you cheating on your boyfriend, my dear?” Jane asked, as he sat again at the table after he had gone looking for their missing orders. She just blushed furthermore, and looked everywhere but at him.
“Oh, hush you. You are insufferable.”
From: May Flower 39
I have read Sense and Sensibility… 300 times. No kidding, I just did the math. 12 times a year for the last 15 years. And every time I wonder if Eleanor and Edward will get together. AND it’s not even my favorite book. Whenever I think about books, I think about my childhood readings. Sometimes, even if I don’t have children, even if it’s been so long since I’ve been a child myself… I just grab one of them, and I read, and read and read until I fall asleep. I remember my mother, and my happy place. I could have never left them behind. It’s the only thing I took with me when I left, and turned my back on my old life. It’s just that, I lead such a small life. Ok, maybe not really small, but… circumscribed? I’m not even sure such is the case- I do travel a lot, but… you get it, right? And yet, I wonder, do I have it because I want to, or because I haven’t been brave enough? So much of what I see remembers me of something I read in a book or a movie I have seen, and shouldn’t it be the other way around?
Jane took a big breath when he received the message. He pondered carefully the meaning behind her words. Maybe she had just left her guard down a little, maybe it hadn’t been intentional - she sounded a bit frustrated- but she had never told him so much about herself. Now he knew that she traveled a lot for her job, that she wasn’t born in Sacramento and that she had lost her mother. Her father had probably fallen victim to depression, guilt, alcohol or drug after her death, and she had stayed until the day he had died. He sighed, and put the phone back in his jacket. May was right. He was a bit in love with Lisbon, and as she and this woman were so similar, it was probably why he was attracted to her too. Or at least, he thought so. Knowing without actually knowing had, indeed, its charms. And yet, it was very frustrating.
The icon blinked again after few instants, and without checking, Jane knew already it was her.
I don’t want an answer. I just needed to send this cosmic question out into the void. So… well, goodnight.
Jane reflected. She had written the words in the heat of the moment- his favorite kind of letters- and had regretted it as soon as she had re-read them after she had sent the e-mail. Yeah, May had really had to be pissed off. Maybe it was that subordinate of hers again. He chuckled a little, and his eyes went to Lisbon, again busy checking her e-mail account on her Blackberry- poor woman was obsessed with her job- with line of worries on her forehead. She was probably checking out if the last witnesses had issued a complaint against him. He had to get the two women to meet. They would get along just great, he just knew it. He smiled a little smile, and then, Lisbon’s phone rang. It was the tone she reserved for the big boss in charge. And a call from the big boss in charge was never a good sign.
…And in fact, it wasn’t. Two hours later, as soon as she drove in the CBI Parking lot, Teresa’s phone rang yet again, and she was asked to get back to her office ASAP- and alone. She was tense and worried on their way upstairs, and Jane kept it silent, knowing all too well that even just one world would have been his ruin in such a situation. Like a lost puppy, he looked at her entering in her office- the blinds were closed, another bad sign - and he understood that things were bad when she left just a couple of minutes later. He had just had enough time to go to his couch that she stormed out of her room and threw her badge at him- he suspected she resisted firing her gun at him just because she didn’t want to end up in jail.
“Ehy! Lisbon!” He asked, quite stunned, trying to regain his balance, as she kept hitting him with her badge, kicking at the same time his beloved couch. He opened his eyes and really looked at her. Lisbon wasn’t just mad, she was desperate. She was even crying. And a crying Lisbon was never, ever a good sign.
“One month unpaid suspension, Jane, and I’ll be reinserted on a pending review. Do you know what it means? Uh? It means that you, Golden Boy, get to keep your job, and me….” She closed her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a big breath. “Thanks, Jane. It’s good to know that you still can pull a stunt caring about the results and not the people you leave behind.” And saying so, with such a glacial and calm tone that it almost killed him, she turned on her heels, and left, hands in her pockets, resigned.
He felt bad, for some strange reason- well, worse than usual, at least. He had always pulled stunts like the last one, and he had always avoided informing Lisbon. And Lisbon had always paid for his mistakes. He didn’t like it, of course, but it had never been like that. He wondered if it was because Red John’s death had opened some kind of Pandora’s box. Now he wasn’t with the team any longer just because he “had” to, but because he wanted to. Because… because he cared.
Because he was a tiny bit in love with her, damn it.
He grunted, and opened the e-mail program on his phone. Lately, whenever he felt bad, there was only one thing that could help him out- and it was “talking” with May.
To: May Flower 39
Do you ever feel like you’ve become the worst version of yourself? Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them. Hello, I’m Mr. nasty! But I’m sure you have no idea what I am talking about.
May didn’t answer for over half a day, and Jane was starting to get anxious. Like a little kid, he couldn’t stand still, and checked every minute his phone. It was stupid- and it made the guys question his sanity- because it wasn’t the first time that it happened. After all, May had a life, she wasn’t all the time on her computer- or whatever- checking if he had logged on- as far as he knew, she was an old lady with thousands cats and an army of grandchildren. But this time it was different. He needed… he didn’t know what, if it was advice or just someone to talk to. Lisbon wasn’t there, and she was mad with him, and he didn’t know what to do.
And then, at the end of the day, he finally saw it, the little blinking icon… you’ve got mail.
To: Alexanderson 44
I know what you mean, and I am completely jealous- of you, and of a guy I know who behaves like that. What happens to me when I am provoked is that I get tongue-tied, my mind goes blank and then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to think of what I should have said…
Jane grinned, and, sitting, he started to write his answer. He did it quickly- in the last few months, he had become quite the expert. He was even started to think he was developing “Blackberry thumbs”…
To: May Flower 39
Wouldn’t it be great if I could pass all my zingers to you and I would never behave badly all the time and we both- and our friends and our coworkers- would be happy the whole time? On the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, sometimes remorse- and troubles- follows. Just today, for example. I said what I wanted to say when I wanted to, but I got a friend in troubles because I’ve been too forward with a big head… and yeah, I feel a tiny bit guilty about the whole thing.
Jane waited for a while, not long enough to get an actual answer, but long enough to decide that she was right. Sometimes, you just have to do something when you want to do it. After all, she had sent earlier a mail about herself, without thinking about the consequences. Maybe it was time to follow his instinct again, the hell with his devilish plans. Maybe… maybe he could get it to work. Or simply clear his mind, because he was falling for May, and he was seriously starting to question his sanity, since he wasn’t so sure any longer that loving more than one woman at the same time could be possible.
To: May Flower 39
Do you think we should meet?
She didn’t answered. And right before her screen, Teresa wondered if Alexanderson knew that she had no idea what to do. She didn’t know how to answer. Part of her wanted to meet this man, she wanted to see with her own eyes if he was as good in reality as he was in his mails. He sounded… he wasn’t perfect, just perfect for her. Was it because sometimes he remembered her so much of Jane? She guessed this was part of his charm, AND what scared her. Was she falling- if she hadn’t fallen already- for him because she wanted someone like Jane at her side, and she feared Jane was going to leave sooner or later?
Oh, dear Lord. She didn’t know what to do. And lately, whenever she didn’t know what to do… there was only one thing she could think of- writing to Alexanderson.
To: Alexanderson 44
I always miss a bit my mum, but right now… I really would like to still have her. I’d like to be able to ask her for advice.
To: May Flower 39
I am glad you are on-line. I missed you the past couple of days. Just for the record, I can give you advice. I am great at advice.
To: Alexanderson 44
I don’t think you can help. It’s about … everything. I am a tad confused right now. I am having troubles because of a friend, and my job and… and a lot of other things running through my mind.
To: May Flower 39
I normally would ask you to talk to me in specifics, but I know that you would just point out that we already discussed such a point and agreed to keep our conversations as neutral as possible. Thus, as I can’t give you a specific advice, I will tell you just this: Go to the mattresses.
I think you’ll be looking at the screen right now, wondering what the hell I just said- don’t deny it, I know you are doing just that- so allow me to explain myself. It’s from The Godfather. It means, go to war. And yes. I like the godfather. What’s not to like? It’s the sum of all wisdom. The answer to any question. And the answer to your question is, go to the mattresses. Why? Because you are at war. And you have to remember it. Recite it every time you feel like you are losing your nerves. I know you worry about being brave, so this is your chance to stand up for yourself. Fight. Fight to the death, and clear things with that friend of yours.
Days passed, and May didn’t answer. Jane felt like he had said something that either had had her felt insulted, or she was just too worried about that friend of hers. Maybe he wasn’t just a friend. She had said few words about him, and Jane had gotten the idea she had a crush on the guy. He could almost envision him. He probably was an intern, much younger than her. Not that she was a man eater, but, he didn’t know why, he just had that idea in his mind.
Meanwhile, Lisbon had -finally- returned. She was working under scrutiny, both from an advisor of some sort send by the big bad boss in charge, and both by La Roche’s. The bald man wasn’t worrying Jane too much, though; he had a liking, a sweet, brotherly affection for Teresa, after all. And the fact that he knew she was well aware of his darkest secret helped as well.
But… Lisbon wasn’t Lisbon. She was sweet and controlled, too much. Instead of trying to man up, she was more remissive than ever. And it killed him how she behaved with him. She smiled at him sometimes, but with something he couldn’t identify. Was it longing or regret? Did she wanted for things to change? She seemed unsure and tense. It was worse than when he had first arrived, worse than when he had returned from Vegas, claiming he didn’t remember confessing his love. He was confused. He needed her, her help, her advice, but she avoided him. He needed May, but she wasn’t answering to his messages any longer either.
Until, one day, she did… and she agreed to meet him in person. Finally, he was going to see the light, understand what was going on in his life.
Or maybe… not. Because Jane didn’t know how much May was going to rock his world.