One Hundred Letters for James

042

042:

Jeopardy

(I sat and thought about how much I missed you today. The conclusion I came to was 'a whole goddamn lot'.)

A common interest that we had was a love of the American television show Jeopardy, which was a pretty stupid interest to have, since the show aired on Fridays and kept us from doing other things. I didn't mind really, because I was with you and that was all I cared about.

I'm such an idiot. The only thing I cared about in my formative years, the years that count and make you who you are, was you. You're still the only thing I care about, honestly.

I thought it was a bit ironic actually, since you were always putting me on the spot with your prodding questions, just like they did on the show.

"What is impulsive control disorder!" You shouted at the TV, and I laughed. "Come on come on come on!" You pleaded with the contestants, and you grabbed my hand in anticipation. Sure, we held hands sometimes, platonically (I hate that word. Because that's exactly what we were to you), but I felt like this was different because it was instinct and your hands were so warm.

I squeezed your hand a bit, because I wanted this to last forever.

I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't let go until you said, "Ow, Kath, that hurts." I'd been squeezing pretty hard, mostly because I didn't know when the next time this would happen would be, and you were eyeing me pretty weirdly.

"Oops, sorry, haha," I tried to laugh it off, rubbing the back of my neck.

I don't even like you. I hate you. Could you stop doing that thing where you make me love you?