This is my entry into the Jello Forever April Challenge, "Wishes".
A text.
It was all it took. A simple text message and it was all so real. It was short and still it meant so much. It was simple, yet so unusual. Almost surreal. Which was ironic since it was supposed to make things more...official. It was supposed to make sense now.
As he hit the "send" button, he was surprised by the feeling of panic that ran through him, his pulse accelerating instantly. He couldn't take it back now. He almost wished it had been a letter. He would have sent it anyway but he would have had the slight comfort of knowing he could ask someone from the post office to get it back if he changed his mind.
But he knew letters would have beeen a little too much. You don't send letters for that kind of occasions. Besides, even if he had wanted to proceed with letters he wouldn't have gotten the green light from the higher authorities. Oh no, he would have been in serious trouble.
Sending his second text he tried to ignore his heart still racing and realized how ridiculous he was. It had been his idea in the first place. He had thought it was a good one.
But still, he couldn't help but notice how hot he felt at the moment. As if his heart was pumping all the blood directly into his ears. He could almost hear his heart pounding.
Which was quite unusual for him. He wasn't the type to get emotional. He was always the one in control, calm, confident. He had been for as long as he could remember.
His father had taught him to not let his emotions get the better of him. He associated it with weakness.
Yet, sometimes he just couldn't. The first time he held his daughter in his arms he had been terrified. Just before his first appearance on TV he had been stressed and agitated. The night he lost everything... No words could really express what he felt but emotions sure got the better of him that night.
But after that, what had been occasional became a rare event. Even when the subject of Red John was brought up, he was just cold. He had distanced himself from any kind of feelings. And now, here he was, hesitating. Almost trembling. Apprehensive.
He started to type the next text and started to think about how he got here, sending texts, probably making more than one person unhappy. Well, unhappy isn't exactly the word they would use. Furious. Yes, furious would be more like it. But it was what he always did anyway wasn't it? When he thought about it, it was funny how he had always been able to evoke such paradoxical feelings. He knows how to charm people but he sure knows how to infuriate them too. Lisbon being on the top of the list.
Lisbon. She didn't like his idea. Not one bit. Well, of course she wouldn't have, she was Lisbon after all. Now that he thought about it, he realized it probably was one of the main reasons he had thought it was a good idea. He had decided he would wait for her to get her morning coffee before submitting his idea. He had known it was his best shot since she barely listened to him when she was having her first caffeine fix of the day.
It must be why he hadn't expected her to react so violently at his words. At one point during her furious rant, he had almost been sure he would end up with his tea in the face but as he had been anticipating the burn, he had seen her own coffee hit the floor after she accidently hit her mug with her hand. Deciding the distraction was good enough for him to eclipse and taking her lack of direct answer for a yes, he had decided to seek comfort in the couch and had started to put his idea to execution.
He always found it interesting how she could yell at him for 10 minutes, stating how furious and irritated she was but without ever saying no.
The fourth and last text wasn't hard to send at all. He even realized he was smiling when he put his cellphone on the couch beside him.
He was now studying the coffee stain he hadn't noticed earlier on his pijama bottoms. He only hoped the mug hadn't damaged Lisbon's kitchen floor. He would really be in trouble in that case. But he knew she would have come out of the kitchen screaming way sooner if it had. He eventually saw her get out of her kitchen. She clearly was unhappy but no sign of pure rage. He was good. For now.
"Idiot"
With that simple statement, she let herself fall on the other side of the couch and let her legs rest on his lap.
Who would have thought sending a simple "We wish you a happy Easter, Patrick and Teresa" would be so complicated?
When I started to write this it was from Lisbon's point of vue but as fun as it was to write from her irritated, grumpy and a little less serious point of vue, I realized I had more things to say from Jane's so I started over. Maybe I'll write the Lisbon version anyway another time!
Hope you liked this one?