Read Online Let Me Call You Sweetheart: Come Rain or Come Shine by Gwen Hayes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gwen Hayes
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I’ve learned a lot about you—but I’ve also learned a lot about myself. And one of the things I learned was that I still want to be an actor—I just don’t want to live the part 24/7.
I’m not going back to my old life. My life is here now. With you—eventually. I’ve even talked to the school board about doing a play with the kids this fall. I’m not going to turn into the guy I was before because I’ve evolved. I thought that we had evolved, but now I see it’s just me.
Wait, no. I didn’t mean that.
I guess what needs to happen is you need to trust me. If you can’t, well, I guess you can’t.
Not that I’m giving up.
Love,
Jeeves
P.S. I’ve left you a box of addressed stamped envelopes. Please use them. I’ll miss you. I already do.
February 16
Jeeves,
I’m sorry I’m such a bitch.
I’m sorry I let you leave without saying goodbye.
I can’t believe I let my insecurity get the best of me. You deserve better than that. I’m really, really sorry. You know I don’t apologize well, so I hope you understand that I really mean it.
It’s important to have a fulfilling career. I’d be really pissed off if someone tried to make me feel bad for wanting to do what I was born to do.
I hope you forgive me.
Yours,
Cleaver
February 18
Dear Charlie,
There is nothing to forgive. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Love means never having to say you’re sorry but occasionally overnighting muffins from your best friend’s bakery. I’m in a sugar coma and still in love.
Love,
Jeeves
February 22
Dear Cleaver,
Thanks for sending the autographed book. I wish you could have seen Jenny’s face when I gave it to her. So now, I’m in good with the director for making his daughter happy, and with Jenny, probably the future President of the United States.
Shooting is going well. My part is small enough that I’ve had more free time than I’d like, so I’ve spent a lot more time watching production. There’s a choreography behind the camera that I never paid attention to before. It’s amazing, actually.
I’ve been spending more time alone, too. It’s not like alone in Port Grable. I’ve never been lonely before in my life—but when I go back to my trailer, I feel so empty. It’s strange for me. I feel more isolated here than I ever did in our little town in the middle of nowhere. I fill my time reading and writing to you—but I don’t like this void. Which means it’s probably good for me.
These are the things I know now, that I didn’t before:
Cheetos give Medusa and me terrible gas. We vow never to do that again.
I hate smiling when I don’t mean it.
It turns out I can’t write scripts, nor do I really want to.
I think I might be a good director.
Everything I see that I find interesting, my first thought is that I want to tell you about it.
Maybe those aren’t the things you were talking about when you said I needed to work on the inside stuff. I haven’t worked very hard at fitting in since I’ve been here, though. I keep to myself a lot. Maybe I am growing up.
Love,
Jeeves
February 28
Dear Jeeves,
This would be our last day of pen pal communications if you were still here. Are you sure you don’t want to add the phone? We made it a month, why are you trying to torture us some more?
I was going to tell you when you got back—but since that is still two weeks away, I’ll tell you now. I’ve been seeing a counselor. It was supposed to be once a week, but she doesn’t have a huge client list in Port Grable, so I’m going twice a week now. I just thought you should know. I don’t see myself ever going to L.A. or any other big city—but I am really trying to work through my fear.
You showed me that it’s possible to be the person you want to be—so I’m a work in progress, but getting there. The person I want to be isn’t afraid all the time.
Also, the person I want to be is naked. Come
I’m not going back to my old life. My life is here now. With you—eventually. I’ve even talked to the school board about doing a play with the kids this fall. I’m not going to turn into the guy I was before because I’ve evolved. I thought that we had evolved, but now I see it’s just me.
Wait, no. I didn’t mean that.
I guess what needs to happen is you need to trust me. If you can’t, well, I guess you can’t.
Not that I’m giving up.
Love,
Jeeves
P.S. I’ve left you a box of addressed stamped envelopes. Please use them. I’ll miss you. I already do.
February 16
Jeeves,
I’m sorry I’m such a bitch.
I’m sorry I let you leave without saying goodbye.
I can’t believe I let my insecurity get the best of me. You deserve better than that. I’m really, really sorry. You know I don’t apologize well, so I hope you understand that I really mean it.
It’s important to have a fulfilling career. I’d be really pissed off if someone tried to make me feel bad for wanting to do what I was born to do.
I hope you forgive me.
Yours,
Cleaver
February 18
Dear Charlie,
There is nothing to forgive. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Love means never having to say you’re sorry but occasionally overnighting muffins from your best friend’s bakery. I’m in a sugar coma and still in love.
Love,
Jeeves
February 22
Dear Cleaver,
Thanks for sending the autographed book. I wish you could have seen Jenny’s face when I gave it to her. So now, I’m in good with the director for making his daughter happy, and with Jenny, probably the future President of the United States.
Shooting is going well. My part is small enough that I’ve had more free time than I’d like, so I’ve spent a lot more time watching production. There’s a choreography behind the camera that I never paid attention to before. It’s amazing, actually.
I’ve been spending more time alone, too. It’s not like alone in Port Grable. I’ve never been lonely before in my life—but when I go back to my trailer, I feel so empty. It’s strange for me. I feel more isolated here than I ever did in our little town in the middle of nowhere. I fill my time reading and writing to you—but I don’t like this void. Which means it’s probably good for me.
These are the things I know now, that I didn’t before:
Cheetos give Medusa and me terrible gas. We vow never to do that again.
I hate smiling when I don’t mean it.
It turns out I can’t write scripts, nor do I really want to.
I think I might be a good director.
Everything I see that I find interesting, my first thought is that I want to tell you about it.
Maybe those aren’t the things you were talking about when you said I needed to work on the inside stuff. I haven’t worked very hard at fitting in since I’ve been here, though. I keep to myself a lot. Maybe I am growing up.
Love,
Jeeves
February 28
Dear Jeeves,
This would be our last day of pen pal communications if you were still here. Are you sure you don’t want to add the phone? We made it a month, why are you trying to torture us some more?
I was going to tell you when you got back—but since that is still two weeks away, I’ll tell you now. I’ve been seeing a counselor. It was supposed to be once a week, but she doesn’t have a huge client list in Port Grable, so I’m going twice a week now. I just thought you should know. I don’t see myself ever going to L.A. or any other big city—but I am really trying to work through my fear.
You showed me that it’s possible to be the person you want to be—so I’m a work in progress, but getting there. The person I want to be isn’t afraid all the time.
Also, the person I want to be is naked. Come
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